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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-14 13:33:10 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-14 13:33:10 -0800 |
| commit | ff3873c3a339b2f5ddd182d6d34ed1bbb5fd0533 (patch) | |
| tree | 29f1efe61498fc6099fd9221a880ff583c72224e | |
| parent | ebdccc2e75bacd6a9de7a311ffeee1d811dc2527 (diff) | |
As captured January 14, 2025
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| -rw-r--r-- | 74238-h/74238-h.htm | 20616 |
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diff --git a/74238-0.txt b/74238-0.txt index fe34bbf..313bdc2 100644 --- a/74238-0.txt +++ b/74238-0.txt @@ -1,7190 +1,7190 @@ -
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***
-
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
- Transcriber’s Note:
-
-This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
-Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. On each title
-page, the phrase “A Tale” was printed in a blackletter font, which is
-rendered here delimited by ‘=’.
-
-The volume is a collection of three already published texts, each with
-its own title page and pagination.
-
-Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
-see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding
-the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.
-
- ILLUSTRATIONS
- OF
- POLITICAL ECONOMY.
-
-
- BY
- HARRIET MARTINEAU.
-
-
- ——o——
-
-
- BRIERY CREEK.
- THE THREE AGES.
-
-
- ——o——
-
-
- _IN NINE VOLUMES._
-
-
-
-
- VOL. VIII.
-
-
-
-
- LONDON:
- CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
- MDCCCXXXIV.
-
-
-
-
- LONDON:
-
- Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES,
-
- Duke-street, Lambeth.
-
-
-
-
- CONTENTS.
-
- ---
-
- BRIERY CREEK.
- CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE
- 1. The Philosopher at Home 1│5. Introductions 94
- 2. The Gentleman at Home 22│6. A Father’s Hope 122
- 3. Saturday Morning 46│7. The End of the Matter 142
- 4. Sunday Evening 65│
- │
- THE THREE AGES..
- │
- 1. First Age 1│3. Third Age 93
- 2. Second Age 35│
-
-
-
-
- BRIERY CREEK.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER I.
-
- THE PHILOSOPHER AT HOME.
-
-
-The sun,—the bright sun of May in the western world,—was going down on
-the village of Briery Creek, and there was scarcely a soul left within
-its bounds to observe how the shadows lengthened on the prairie, except
-Dr. Sneyd; and Dr. Sneyd was too busy to do justice to the spectacle. It
-was very long since letters and newspapers had been received from
-England; the rains had interfered with the post; and nothing had been
-heard at the settlement for a month of what the minister was planning in
-London, and what the populace was doing in Paris. Dr. Sneyd had learned,
-in this time, much that was taking place among the worlds overhead; and
-he now began to be very impatient for tidings respecting the Old World,
-on which he had been compelled to turn his back, at the moment when its
-political circumstances began to be the most interesting to him. There
-had been glimpses of starlight in the intervals of the shifting spring
-storms, and he had betaken himself, not in vain, to his observatory; but
-no messenger, with precious leathern bag, had appeared on the partial
-cessation of the rains to open, beyond the clouds of the political
-hemisphere, views of the silent rise or sure progress of bright moral
-truths behind the veil of prejudice and passion which was for a season
-obscuring their lustre. Day after day had anxious eyes been fixed on the
-ford of the creek; night after night had the doctor risen, and looked
-abroad in starlight and in gloom, when the dogs were restless in the
-court, or a fancied horse-tread was heard in the grassy road before the
-house.
-
-This evening Dr. Sneyd was taking resolution to file the last newspapers
-he had received, and to endorse and put away the letters which, having
-been read till not an atom more of meaning could be extracted from them,
-might now be kept in some place where they would be safer from friction
-than in a philosopher’s pocket. The filing the newspapers was done with
-his usual method and alacrity, but his hand shook while endorsing the
-last of his letters; and he slowly opened the sheet, to look once more
-at the signature,—not from sentiment, and because it was the signature
-(for Dr. Sneyd was not a man of sentiment),—but in order to observe once
-again whether there had been any such tremulousness in the hand that
-wrote it as might affect the chance of the two old friends meeting again
-in this world: the chance which he was unwilling to believe so slight as
-it appeared to Mrs. Sneyd, and his son Arthur, and every body else.
-Nothing more was discoverable from the writing, and the key was
-resolutely turned upon the letter. The next glance fell upon the
-materials of a valuable telescope, which lay along one side of the room,
-useless till some glasses should arrive to replace those which had been
-broken during the rough journey to this remote settlement. Piece by
-piece was handled, fitted, and laid down again. Then a smile passed over
-the philosopher’s countenance as his eye settled on the filmy orb of the
-moon, already showing itself, though the sun had not yet touched the
-western verge of the prairie. It was something to have the same moon to
-look at through the same telescopes as when he was not alone in science,
-in the depths of a strange continent. The face of the land had changed;
-he had become but too well acquainted with the sea; a part of the
-heavens themselves had passed away, and new worlds of light come before
-him in their stead; but the same sun shone in at the south window of his
-study; the same moon waxed and waned above his observatory; and he was
-eager to be once more recognising her volcanoes and plains through the
-instrument which he had succeeded in perfecting for use. This reminded
-him to note down in their proper places the results of his last
-observations; and in a single minute, no symptom remained of Dr. Sneyd
-having old friends whom he longed to see on the other side of the world;
-or of his having suffered from the deferred hope of tidings; or of his
-feeling impatient about his large telescope; or of any thing but his
-being engrossed in his occupation.
-
-Yet he heard the first gentle tap at the south window, and, looking over
-his spectacles at the little boy who stood outside, found time to bid
-him come in and wait for liberty to talk. The doctor went on writing,
-the smile still on his face, and Temmy,—in other words, Temple Temple,
-heir of Temple Lodge,—crept in at the window, and stole quietly about
-the room to amuse himself, till his grandfather should be at liberty to
-attend to him. While the pen scratched the paper, and ceased, and
-scratched again, Temmy walked along the bookshelves, and peeped into the
-cylinder of the great telescope, and cast a frightened look behind him
-on having the misfortune to jingle some glasses, and then slid into the
-low arm-chair to study for the hundredth time the prints that hung
-opposite,—the venerable portraits of his grandfather’s two most intimate
-friends. Temmy had learned to look on these wise men of another
-hemisphere with much of the same respect as on the philosophers of a
-former age. His grandfather appeared to him incalculably old, and
-unfathomably wise; and it was his grandfather’s own assurance that these
-two philosophers were older and wiser still. When to this was added the
-breadth of land and sea across which they dwelt, it was no wonder that,
-in the eyes of the boy, they had the sanctity of the long-buried dead.
-
-“Where is your grandmamma, Temmy?” asked Dr. Sneyd, at length, putting
-away his papers. “Do you know whether she is coming to take a walk with
-me?”
-
-“I cannot find her,” said the boy. “I went all round the garden, and
-through the orchard——”
-
-“And into the poultry yard?”
-
-“Yes; and every where else. All the doors are open, and the place quite
-empty. There is nobody at home here, nor in all the village, except at
-our house.”
-
-“All gone to the squirrel-hunt; or rather to meet the hunters, for the
-sport must be over by this time; but your grandmamma does not hunt
-squirrels. We must turn out and find her. I dare say she is gone to the
-Creek to look for the postman.”
-
-Temmy hoped that all the squirrels were not to be shot. Though there had
-been far too many lately, he should be sorry if they were all to
-disappear.
-
-“You will have your own two, in their pretty cage, at any rate, Temmy.”
-
-Temmy’s tearful eyes, twisted fingers, and scarlet colour, said the “no”
-he could not speak at the moment. Grandpapa liked to get at the bottom
-of every thing; and he soon discovered that the boy’s father had, for
-some reason unknown, ordered that no more squirrels should be seen in
-his house, and that the necks of Temmy’s favourites should be wrung.
-Temmy had no other favourites instead. He did not like to begin with any
-new ones without knowing whether he might keep them; and he had not yet
-asked his papa what he might be permitted to have.
-
-“We must all have patience, Temmy, about our favourites. I have had a
-great disappointment about one of mine.”
-
-Temmy brushed away his tears to hear what favourites grandpapa could
-have. Neither cat, nor squirrel, nor bird had ever met his eye in this
-house; and the dogs in the court were for use, not play.
-
-Dr. Sneyd pointed to his large telescope, and said that the cylinder,
-without the lenses, was to him no more than a cage without squirrels
-would be to Temmy.
-
-“But you will have the glasses by and by, grandpapa, and I——”
-
-“Yes; I hope to have them many months hence, when the snow is thick on
-the ground, and the sleigh can bring me my packages of glass without
-breaking them, as the last were broken that came over the log road. But
-all this time the stars are moving over our heads; and in these fine
-spring evenings I should like very much to be finding out many things
-that I must remain ignorant of till next year; and I cannot spare a
-whole year now so well as when I was younger.”
-
-“Cannot you do something while you are waiting?” was Temmy’s question.
-His uncle Arthur would have been as much diverted at it as Dr. Sneyd
-himself was; for the fact was, Dr. Sneyd had always twice as much
-planned to be done as any body thought he could get through. Temmy did
-not know what a large book he was writing; nor how much might be learned
-by means of the inferior instruments; nor what a number of books the
-philosopher was to read through, nor how large a correspondence was to
-be carried on, before the snow could be on the ground again.
-
-“Now let us walk to the creek” was a joyful sound to the boy, who made
-haste to find the doctor’s large straw hat. When the philosopher had put
-it on, over his thin grey hair, he turned towards one of his many
-curious mirrors, and laughed at his own image.
-
-“Temmy,” said he, “do you remember me before I wore this large hat? Do
-you remember my great wig?”
-
-“O yes, and the black, three-cornered hat. I could not think who you
-were the first day I met you without that wig. But I think I never saw
-any body else with such a wig.”
-
-“And in England they would not know what to make of me without it. I was
-just thinking how Dr. Rogers would look at me, if he could see me now;
-he would call me quite an American,—very like a republican.”
-
-“Are you an American? Are you a republican?”
-
-“I was a republican in England, and in France, and wherever I have been,
-as much as I am now. As to being an American, I suppose I must call
-myself one; but I love England very dearly, Temmy. I had rather live
-there than any where, if it were but safe for me; but we can make
-ourselves happy here. Whatever happens, we always find afterwards, or
-shall find when we are wiser, is for our good. Some people at home have
-made a great mistake about me; but all mistakes will be cleared up some
-time or other, my dear; and in the mean while, we must not be angry with
-one another, though we cannot help being sorry for what has happened.”
-
-“I think uncle Arthur is very angry indeed. He said one day that he
-would never live among those people in England again.”
-
-“I dare say there will be no reason for his living there; but he has
-promised me to forgive them for misunderstanding and disliking me. And
-you must promise me the same thing when you grow old enough to see what
-such a promise means.—Come here, my dear. Stand just where I do, and
-look up under the eaves. Do you see anything?”
-
-“O, I see a little bird moving!”
-
-Temmy could not tell what bird it was. He was a rather dull
-child—usually called uncommonly stupid—as indeed he too often appeared.
-Whither his wits strayed from the midst of the active little world in
-which he lived, where the wits of everybody else were lively enough, no
-one could tell—if, indeed, he had any wits. His father thought it
-impossible that Temple Temple, heir of Temple Lodge and its fifty
-thousand acres, should not grow up a very important personage. Mrs.
-Temple had an inward persuasion, that no one understood the boy but
-herself. Dr. Sneyd did not profess so to understand children as to be
-able to compare Temmy with others, but thought him a good little fellow,
-and had no doubt he would do very well. Mrs. Sneyd’s hopes and fears on
-the boy’s account varied, while her tender pity was unremitting: and
-uncle Arthur was full of indignation at Temple for cowing the child’s
-spirit, and thus blunting his intellect. To all other observers it was
-but too evident that Temmy did not know a martin from a crow, or a
-sycamore from a thorn.
-
-“That bird is a martin, come to build under our eaves, my dear. If we
-were to put up a box, I dare say the bird would begin to build in it
-directly.”
-
-Temmy was for putting up a box, and his grandpapa for furnishing him
-with favourites which should be out of sight and reach of Mr. Temple. In
-two minutes, therefore, the philosopher was mounted on a high stool,
-whence he could reach the low eaves; and Temmy was vibrating on tiptoe,
-holding up at arms’ length that which, being emptied of certain
-mysterious curiosities, (which might belong either to grandpapa’s
-apparatus of science, or grandmamma’s of housewifery,) was now destined
-to hold the winged curiosities which were flitting round during the
-operation undertaken on their behalf.
-
-Before descending, the doctor looked about him, on the strange sight of
-a thriving uninhabited village. Everybody seemed to be out after the
-squirrel hunters. When, indeed, the higher ground near the Creek was
-attained, Dr. Sneyd perceived that Mr. Temple’s family was at home. On
-the terrace was the gentleman himself, walking backwards and forwards in
-his usual after-dinner state. His lady (Dr. Sneyd’s only daughter) was
-stooping among her flowers, while Ephraim, the black boy, was attending
-at her heels, and the figures of other servants popped into sight and
-away again, as they were summoned and dismissed by their master. The
-tavern, kept by the surgeon of the place, stood empty, if it might be
-judged by its open doors, where no one went in and out. Dods was not to
-be seen in the brick-ground; which was a wonder, as Dods was a hard-
-working man, and his task of making bricks for Mr. Temple’s grand
-alterations had been so much retarded by the late rains that it was
-expected of Dods that he would lose not a day nor an hour while the
-weather continued fair. Mrs. Dods was not at work under her porch, as
-usual, at this hour; nor was the young lawyer, Mr. Johnson, flitting
-from fence to fence of the cottages on the prairie, to gather up and
-convey the news of what had befallen since morning. About the rude
-dwelling within the verge of the forest, there was the usual fluttering
-of fowls and yelping of dogs; but neither was the half-savage woodsman
-(only known by the name of Brawn) to be seen loitering about with his
-axe, nor were his equally uncivilized daughters (the Brawnees) at their
-sugar troughs under the long row of maples. The Indian corn seemed to
-have chosen its own place for springing, and to be growing untended; so
-rude were the fences which surrounded it, and so rank was the prairie
-grass which struggled with it for possession of the furrows. The expanse
-of the prairie was undiversified with a single living thing. A solitary
-tree, or a cluster of bushes here and there, was all that broke the
-uniformity of the grassy surface, as far as the horizon, where the black
-forest rose in an even line, and seemed to seclude the region within its
-embrace. There was not such an absence of sound as of motion. The waters
-of the Creek, to which Dr. Sneyd and Temmy were proceeding, dashed
-along, swollen by the late rains, and the flutter and splash of wild
-fowl were heard from their place of assemblage,—the riffle of the Creek,
-or the shallows formed by the unevenness of its rocky bottom. There were
-few bird-notes heard in the forest; but the horses of the settlement
-were wandering there, with bells about their necks. The breezes could
-find no entrance into the deep recesses of the woods; but they whispered
-in their play among the wild vines that hung from a height of fifty
-feet. There was a stir also among the rhododendrons, thickets of which
-were left to flourish on the borders of the wood; and with their rustle
-in the evening wind were mingled the chirping, humming, and buzzing of
-an indistinguishable variety of insects on the wing and among the grass.
-
-“I see grandmamma coming out of Dods’s porch,” cried Temmy. “What has
-she been there for, all alone?”
-
-“I believe she has been the round of the cottages, feeding the pigs and
-fowls, because the neighbours are away. This is like your grandmamma,
-and it explains her being absent so long. You see what haste she is
-making towards us. Now tell me whether you hear anything on the other
-side of the Creek.”
-
-Temmy heard something, but he could not say what,—whether winds, or
-waters, or horses, or insects, or all these. Dr. Sneyd thought he heard
-cart wheels approaching along the smooth natural road which led out of
-the forest upon the prairie. The light, firm soil of this kind of road
-was so favourable for carriages, that they did not give the rumbling and
-creaking notice of their approach which is common on the log road which
-intersects a marsh. The post messenger was the uppermost person in Dr.
-Sneyd’s thoughts just now, whether waggon wheels or horse tread greeted
-his ear. He was partly right and partly wrong in his present
-conjectures. A waggon appeared from among the trees, but it contained
-nobody whom he could expect to be the bearer of letters;—nobody but
-Arthur’s assistant Isaac, accompanied by Mr. Temple’s black man Julian,
-bringing home a stock of groceries and other comforts from a distant
-store, to which they had been sent to make purchases.
-
-The vehicle came to a halt on the opposite ridge; and no wonder, for it
-was not easy to see how it was to make further progress. The Creek was
-very fine to look at in its present state; but it was anything but
-tempting to travellers. The water, which usually ran clear and shallow,
-when there was more than enough to fill the deep holes in its bed, now
-brought mud from its source, and bore on its troubled surface large
-branches, and even trunks of trees. It was so much swollen from the late
-rains that its depth was not easily ascertainable; but many a brier
-which had lately overhung its course from the bank was now swaying in
-its current, and looking lost in a new element. Isaac and Julian by
-turns descended the bank to the edge of the water, but could not learn
-thereby whether or not it was fordable. Their next proceeding was to
-empty the cart, and drive into the flood by way of experiment.—The water
-only half filled the vehicle, and the horse kept his footing admirably,
-so that it was only to drive back again, and to bring the goods,—some on
-the dry seat of the waggon, and some on the backs of Isaac and Julian,
-as the one drove, and the other took care of the packages within. Two
-trips, it was thought, would suffice to bring over the whole, high and
-dry.
-
-“What are you all about here?” asked Mrs. Sneyd, who had come up
-unobserved while her husband and grandchild were absorbed in watching
-the passage of the Creek. “The goods arriving! Bless me! I hope they
-will get over safely. It would be too provoking if poor Arthur should
-lose his first batch of luxuries. He has lived so long on Indian corn
-bread, and hominy, and wild turkeys, and milk, that it is time he should
-be enjoying his meal of wheaten bread and tea.”
-
-“And the cloth for his new coat is there, grandmamma.”
-
-“Yes; and plenty of spice and other good things for your papa. I do not
-know what he will say if they are washed away; but I care much more for
-your coffee, my dear,” continued she, turning to the doctor. “I am
-afraid your observations and authorship will suffer for want of your
-coffee. Do try and make Isaac hear that he is to take particular care of
-the coffee.”
-
-“Not I, my dear,” replied Dr. Sneyd, laughing. “I would advocate
-Arthur’s affairs, if any. But the men seem to be taking all possible
-care. I should advise their leaving the goods and cart together on the
-other side, but that I rather think, there will be more rain before
-morning, so as to make matters worse to-morrow, besides the risk of a
-soaking during the night. Here they come! Now for it! How they dash down
-the bank! There! They will upset the cart if they do not take care.”
-
-“That great floating tree will upset them. What a pity they did not see
-it in time! There! I thought so.”
-
-The mischief was done. The trunk, with a new rush of water, was too much
-for the light waggon. It turned over on its side, precipitating driver,
-Julian, and all the packages into the muddy stream. The horse scrambled
-and struggled till Isaac could regain his footing, and set the animal
-free, while Julian was dashing the water from his face, and snatching at
-one package after another as they eddied round him, preparatory to being
-carried down the Creek.
-
-Dr. Sneyd caught the frightened horse, as he scampered up the briery
-bank. Mrs. Sneyd shouted a variety of directions which would have been
-excellent, if they could have been heard; while Temmy stood looking
-stupid.
-
-“Call help, my dear boy,” said Dr. Sneyd.
-
-“Where? I do not know where to go.”
-
-“Do you hear the popping of guns in the wood? Some of the hunters are
-coming back. Go and call them.”
-
-“Where? I do not know which way.”
-
-“In the direction of the guns, my dear. In that quarter, near the large
-hickory. I think you will find them there.”
-
-Temmy did not know a hickory by sight; but he could see which way Dr.
-Sneyd’s finger pointed; and he soon succeeded in finding the party, and
-bringing them to the spot.
-
-“Arthur, I am very sorry,” said the doctor, on seeing his son come
-running to view the disaster. “Mortal accidents, my dear son! We must
-make up our minds to them.”
-
-“Yes, father, when they are purely accidents: but this is
-carelessness,—most provoking carelessness.”
-
-“Indeed, the men did make trial of what they were about,” said the
-doctor.
-
-“The great tree came down so very fast!” added Temmy.
-
-“Yes, yes. I am not blaming Isaac. It was my carelessness in not
-throwing a bridge over the Creek long ago. Never mind that now! Let us
-save what we can.”
-
-It was a sorry rescue. The cart was broken, but it could be easily
-mended. The much-longed-for wheaten flour appeared in the shape of a
-sack of soiled pulp, which no one would think of swallowing. The coffee
-might be dried. The tea was not altogether past hope. Sugar, salt, and
-starch, were melted into one mass. Mr. Temple’s spices were supposed to
-be by this time perfuming the stream two miles below; his wax candles
-were battered, so that they could, at best, be used only as short ends;
-and the oil for his hall lamps was diffusing a calm over the surface of
-the stream. Mrs. Sneyd asked her husband whether some analogous
-appliance could not be found for the proprietor’s ruffled temper, when
-he should hear of the disaster.
-
-The news could not be long in reaching him, for the other party of
-squirrel-hunters, bringing with them all the remaining women and
-children of the village, appeared from the forest, and the tidings
-spread from mouth to mouth. As soon as Temmy saw that Uncle Arthur was
-standing still, and looking round him for a moment, he put one of his
-mistimed questions, at the end of divers remarks.
-
-“How many squirrels have you killed, uncle? I do not think you can have
-killed any at all; we saw so many as we came up here! Some were running
-along your snake fence, uncle; and grandpapa says they were not of the
-same kind as those that run up the trees. But we saw a great many run up
-the trees, too. I dare say, half a dozen or a dozen. How many have you
-killed, uncle?”
-
-“Forty-one. The children there will tell you all about it.”
-
-“Forty-one! And how many did David kill? And your whole party, uncle?”
-
-Arthur gave the boy a gentle push towards the sacks of dead squirrels,
-and Temmy, having no notion why or how he had been troublesome, amused
-himself with pitying the slaughtered animals, and stroking his cheeks
-with the brushes of more than a hundred of them. He might have gone on
-to the whole number bagged,—two hundred and ninety-three,—if his
-attention had not been called off by the sudden silence which preceded a
-speech from uncle Arthur.
-
-“Neighbours,” said Arthur, “I take the blame of this mischance upon
-myself. I will not say that some of you might not have reminded me to
-bridge the Creek, before I spent my time and money on luxuries that we
-could have waited for a while longer; but the chief carelessness was
-mine, I freely own. It seems a strange time to choose for asking a
-favour of you——”
-
-He was interrupted by many a protestation that his neighbours were ready
-to help to bridge the Creek; that it was the interest of all that the
-work should be done, and not a favour to himself alone. He went on:—
-
-“I was going to say that when it happens to you, as now to me, that you
-wish to exchange the corn that you grow for something that our prairies
-do not produce, you will feel the want of such a bridge as much as I do
-now; though I hope through a less disagreeable experience. In self-
-defence, I must tell you, however, how little able I have been till
-lately to provide any but the barest necessaries for myself and my men.
-This will show you that I cannot now pay you for the work you propose to
-do.”
-
-He was interrupted by assurances that nobody wanted to be paid; that
-they would have a bridging frolic, as they had before had a raising
-frolic to build the surgeon’s tavern, and a rolling frolic to clear
-Brawn’s patch of ground, and as they meant to have a reaping frolic when
-the corn should be ripe. It should be a pic-nic. Nobody supposed that
-Arthur had yet meat, bread, and whisky to spare.
-
-“I own that I have not,” said he. “You know that when I began to till my
-ground, I had no more capital than was barely sufficient to fence and
-break up my fields, and feed me and my two labourers while my first crop
-was growing. Just before it ripened, I had nothing left; but what I had
-spent was well spent. It proved a productive consumption indeed; for my
-harvest brought back all I had spent, with increase. This increase was
-not idly consumed by me. I began to pay attention to my cattle, improved
-my farm buildings, set up a kiln, and employed a labourer in making
-bricks. The fruits of my harvest were thus all consumed; but they were
-again restored with increase. Then I thought I might begin to indulge
-myself with the enjoyment for which I had toiled so long and so hard. I
-did not labour merely to have so much corn in my barns, but to enjoy the
-corn, and whatever else it would bring me,—as we all do,—producing,
-distributing, and exchanging, that we may afterwards enjoy.”
-
-“Not quite all, Mr. Arthur,” said Johnson, the lawyer. “There is your
-brother-in-law, Mr. Temple, who seems disposed to enjoy everything,
-without so much as soiling his fingers with gathering a peach. And there
-is a certain friend of ours, settled farther east, who toils like a
-horse, and lives like a beggar, that he may hoard a roomful of dollars.”
-
-“Temple produces by means of the hoarded industry of his fathers,—by
-means of his capital,” replied Arthur. “And the miser you speak of
-enjoys his dollars, I suppose, or he would change them away for
-something else. Well, friends, there is little temptation for us to
-hoard up our wealth. We have corn instead of dollars, and corn will not
-keep like dollars.”
-
-“Why should it?” asked Dods the brickmaker. “Who would take the trouble
-to raise more corn than he wants to eat, if he did not hope to exchange
-it for something desirable?”
-
-“Very true. Then comes the question, what a man shall choose in
-exchange. I began pretty well. I laid out some of my surplus in
-providing for a still greater next year; which, in my circumstances, was
-my first duty. Then I began to look to the end for which I was working;
-and I reached forward to it a little too soon. I should have roasted my
-corn ears and drank milk a little longer, and expended my surplus on a
-bridge, before I thought of wheaten flour and tea and coffee.”
-
-“Three months hence,” said somebody, “you will be no worse off (except
-for the corn ears and milk you must consume instead of flour and tea)
-than if you had had your wish. Your flour and tea would have been clean
-gone by that time, without any return.”
-
-“You grant that I must go without the pleasure,” said Arthur, smiling.
-“Never mind that. But you will not persuade me that it is not a clear
-loss to have flour spoiled, and sugar and salt melted together in the
-creek; unless, indeed, they go to fatten the fish in the holes. Besides,
-there is the mortification of feeling that your toil in making this
-bridge might have been paid with that which is lost in the purchase of
-luxuries which none will enjoy.”
-
-Being vehemently exhorted to let this consideration give him no concern,
-he concluded,
-
-“I will take your advice, thank you. I will not trouble myself or you
-more about this loss; and I enlarge upon it now only because it may be
-useful to us as a lesson how to use the fruits of our labour. I have
-been one of the foremost to laugh at our neighbours in the next
-settlement for having,—not their useful frolics, like ours of to-
-morrow,—but their shooting-matches and games in the wood, when the water
-was so bad that it was a grievance to have to drink it. I was as ready
-as any one to see that the labour spent on these pastimes could not be
-properly afforded, if there were really no hands to spare to dig wells.
-And now, instead of asking them when they mean to have their welling
-frolic, our wisest way will be to get our bridge up before there is time
-for our neighbours to make a laughing-stock of us. When that is done, I
-shall be far from satisfied. I shall still feel that it is owing to me
-that my father goes without his coffee, while he is watching through the
-night when we common men are asleep.
-
-”That is as much Temple’s concern as the young man’s," observed the
-neighbours one to another. “Freely as he flings his money about, one
-would think Temple might see that the doctor was at least as well
-supplied with luxuries as himself.” “Why the young man should be left to
-toil and make capital so painfully and slowly, when Temple squanders so
-much, is a mystery to every body.” "A quarter of what Temple has spent
-in making and unmaking his garden would have enabled Arthur Sneyd’s new
-field to produce double, or have improved his team; and Temple himself
-would have been all the better for the interest it would have yielded,
-instead of his money bringing no return. But Temple is not the man to
-lend a helping hand to a young farmer,—be he his brother-in-law or a
-mere stranger."
-
-Such were the remarks which Arthur was not supposed to hear, and to
-which he did not therefore consider himself called upon to reply.
-Seeing his father and mother in eager consultation with the still
-dripping Isaac, he speedily completed the arrangements for the next
-day’s meeting, toils, and pleasures, and joined the group. Isaac had
-but just recollected that in his pocket he brought a packet of
-letters and several newspapers, which had found their way, in some
-circuitous manner, to the store where he had been trafficking. The
-whole were deplorably soaked with mud. It seemed doubtful whether a
-line of the writing could ever be made out. But Mrs. Sneyd’s
-cleverness had been proved equal to emergencies nearly as great as
-this. She had once got rid of the stains of a stand full of ink
-which had been overset on a parchment which bore a ten-guinea stamp.
-She had recovered the whole to perfect smoothness, and fitness to be
-written upon. Many a time had she contrived to restore the writing
-which had been discharged from her father’s manuscript chemical
-lectures, when spillings from his experiments had occurred scarcely
-half an hour before the lecture-room began to fill. No wonder her
-husband was now willing to confide in her skill—no wonder he was
-anxious to see Temmy home as speedily as possible, that he might
-watch the processes of dipping and drying and unfolding, on which
-depended almost the dearest of his enjoyments,—intercourse with
-faithful friends far away.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER II.
-
- THE GENTLEMAN AT HOME.
-
-
-Master Temple Temple was up early, and watching the weather, the next
-morning, with far more eagerness than his father would have approved,
-unless some of his own gentlemanlike pleasures had been in question. If
-Mr. Temple had known that his son and heir cared for the convenience of
-his industrious uncle Arthur, and of a parcel of labourers, the boy
-would hardly have escaped a long lecture on the depravity of his tastes,
-and the vulgarity of his sympathies. But Mr. Temple knew nothing that
-passed prior to his own majestic descent to the breakfast-room, where
-the silver coffee-pot was steaming fragrantly, and the windows were
-carefully opened or scrupulously shut, so as to temper the visitations
-of the outward air, while his lady sat awaiting his mood, and trembling
-lest he should find nothing that he could eat among the variety of forms
-of diet into which the few elements at the command of her cook had been
-combined. Mrs. Temple had never been very happy while within reach of
-markets and shops; but she was now often tempted to believe that almost
-all her troubles would be at an end if she had but the means of
-indulging her husband’s fastidious appetite. It was a real misery to be
-for ever inventing, and for ever in vain, new cookeries of Indian corn,
-beef, lean pork, geese and turkeys, honey and milk. Beyond these
-materials, she had nothing to depend upon but chance arrivals of flour,
-pickles, and groceries; and awfully passed the day when there was any
-disappointment at breakfast. She would willingly have surrendered her
-conservatory, her splendid ornaments, the pictures, plate, and even the
-library of her house, and the many thousand acres belonging to it, to
-give to her husband such an unscrupulous appetite as Arthur’s, or such a
-cheerful temper as Dr. Sneyd’s. It was hard that her husband’s ill-
-humour about his privations should fall upon her; for she was not the
-one who did the deed, whatever it might be, which drove the gentleman
-from English society. The sacrifice was quite as great to her as it
-could possibly be to him; and there was inexpressible meanness in
-Temple’s aggravating, by complaints of his own share, the suffering
-which he had himself brought upon her. Temple seemed always to think
-himself a great man, however; and always greatest when causing the
-utmost sensation in those about him.
-
-This morning, he stalked into the breakfast room in remarkable state. He
-looked almost as tall as his wife when about to speak to her, and was as
-valiant in his threats against the people who disturbed him by passing
-before his window, as his son in planning his next encounter with
-Brawn’s great turkey.
-
-“Come away from the window, this moment, Temple. I desire you will never
-stand there when the people are flocking past in this manner. Nothing
-gratifies them more. They blow those infernal horns for no other purpose
-than to draw our attention. Ring the bell, Temple.”
-
-When Marius appeared, in answer to the bell, he was ordered to pull down
-that blind; and if the people did not go away directly, to bid them
-begone, and blow their horns somewhere out of his hearing.
-
-"They will be gone soon enough, sir. It is a busy day with them. They
-are making a frolic to bridge the Creek, because of what happened—"
-
-A terrified glance of Mrs. Temple’s stopped the man in his reference to
-what had taken place the evening before. It was hoped that the stock of
-coffee might be husbanded till more could arrive, that the idea of
-chocolate might be insinuated into the gentleman’s mind, and that the
-shortness of the wax candles, and the deficiency of light in the hall at
-night, might possibly escape observation.
-
-“The bridge over the Creek being much wanted by every body, sir,”
-continued Marius, "every body is joining the frolic to work at it; that
-is, if——"
-
-“Not I, nor any of my people. Let me hear no more about it, if you
-please. I have given no orders to have a bridge built.”
-
-Marius withdrew. The cow-horns were presently no longer heard—not that
-Marius had done any thing to silence them. He knew that the blowers were
-not thinking of either him or his master; but merely passing to their
-place of rendezvous, calling all frolickers together by the way.
-
-“Temple, you find you can live without your squirrels, I hope,” said the
-tender father. “Now, no crying! I will not have you cry.”
-
-“Bring me your papa’s cup, my dear,” interposed his mother; “and
-persuade him to try these early strawberries. The gardener surprised us
-this morning with a little plate of strawberries. Tell your papa about
-the strawberries in the orchard, my dear.”
-
-In the intervals of sobs, and with streaming eyes, Temmy told the happy
-news that strawberries had spread under all the trees in the orchard,
-and were so full of blossom, that the gardener thought the orchard would
-soon look like a field of white clover.
-
-“Wild strawberries, I suppose. Tasteless trash!” was the remark upon
-this intelligence.
-
-Before a more promising subject was started, the door opened, and Dr.
-Sneyd appeared. Mr. Temple hastened to rise, put away, with a prodigious
-crackling and shuffling, the papers he held, quickened Temmy’s motions
-in setting a chair, and pressed coffee and strawberries on “the old
-gentleman,” as he was wont to call Dr. Sneyd. It was impossible that
-there could be much sympathy between two men so unlike; but it
-singularly happened that Dr. Sneyd had a slighter knowledge than any
-body in the village of the peculiarities of his son-in-law. He was
-amused at some of his foibles, vexed at others, and he sighed, at times,
-when he saw changes of looks and temper creeping over his daughter, and
-thought what she might have been with a more suitable companion; but
-Temple stood in so much awe of the philosopher as to appear a somewhat
-different person before him and in any other presence. Temmy now knew
-that he was safe from misfortune for half an hour; and being unwilling
-that grandpapa should see traces of tears, he slipped behind the window
-blind, to make his observations on the troop which was gathering in the
-distance on the way to the creek. He stood murmuring to himself,—"There
-goes Big Brawn and the Brawnees! I never saw any women like those
-Brawnees. I think they could pull up a tall tree by the roots, if they
-tried. I wonder when they will give me some more honey to taste. There
-goes Dods! He must be tired before the frolic begins; for he has been
-making bricks ever since it was light. I suppose he is afraid papa will
-be angry if he does not make bricks as fast as he can. Papa was so angry
-with the rain for spoiling his bricks before! There goes David——" And so
-on, through the entire population, out of the bounds of Temple Lodge.
-
-“I came to ask,” said the doctor, “how many of your men you can spare to
-this frolic to-day. Arthur will be glad of all the assistance that can
-be had, that the work may be done completely at once.”
-
-The reply was, that Arthur seemed an enterprising young man.
-
-"He is: just made for his lot. But I ought not to call this Arthur’s
-enterprise altogether. The Creek is no more his than it is yours or
-mine. The erection is for the common good, as the disaster last
-night"—(a glance from Mrs. Temple to her husband’s face, and a peep from
-Temmy, from behind the blind)—“was, in fact, a common misfortune.”
-
-Mr. Temple took snuff, and asked no questions at present.
-
-“I have been telling my wife,” observed the doctor, “that I am
-prodigiously tempted to try the strength of my arm myself, to-day.”
-
-"I hope not, my dear sir. Your years——The advancement of science, you
-know——Just imagine its being told in Paris, among your friends of the
-Institute, that you had been helping to build a bridge! Temple, ring the
-bell."
-
-Marius was desired to send Ephraim to receive his master’s commands. In
-a few minutes, the door slowly opened, a strange metallic sound was
-heard, and a little negro boy, stunted in form and mean in countenance,
-stood bowing in the presence.
-
-"Ephraim, go into the park field, and tell Martin to send as many
-labourers as he can spare to help to bridge the creek. And as you come
-back——"
-
-During this time, Dr. Sneyd had turned on his chair to observe the boy.
-He now rose rapidly, and went to convince himself that his eyes did not
-deceive him. It was really true that the right ankle and left wrist of
-the little lad were connected by a light fetter.
-
-“Who has the key of this chain?” asked Dr. Sneyd of his daughter, who,
-blushing scarlet, looked towards her husband.
-
-“Give it me,” said the doctor, holding out his hand.
-
-“Excuse me, my dear sir. You do not know the boy.”
-
-“Very true: but that does not alter the case. The key, if you please.”
-
-After a moment’s hesitation, it was produced from the waistcoat pocket.
-Dr. Sneyd set the boy free, bade him make haste to do his master’s
-bidding, and quietly doubling the chain, laid it down on a distant
-table.
-
-“He never made haste in his life, sir,” protested Mr. Temple. “You do
-not know the lad, sir, believe me.”
-
-“I do not: and I am sorry to hear such an account of him. This is a
-place where no one can be allowed to loiter and be idle.”
-
-Ephraim showed that he could make haste; for he lost no time in getting
-out of the room, when he had received his final orders. At the moment,
-and for a few moments more, Dr. Sneyd was relating to his daughter the
-contents of the letters received from England the night before. Mr.
-Temple meanwhile was stirring the fire, flourishing his handkerchief,
-and summoning courage to be angry with Dr. Sneyd.
-
-“Do you know, sir,” said he, at length, "that boy is my servant? Let me
-tell you, that for one gentleman to interfere with another gentleman’s
-servants is——"
-
-Dr. Sneyd was listening so calmly, with his hands resting on the head of
-his cane, that Temple’s words, somehow or other, failed him.
-
-"Such interference is——is——This boy, sir, is my servant."
-
-“Your servant, but not your slave. Do you know, Temple, it is I who
-might call you to account, rather than you me. As one of the same race
-with this boy, I have a right to call you to account for making property
-of that which is no property. There is no occasion, I trust, for you and
-me to refer this matter to a magistrate: but, till compelled to do so, I
-have a full right to strike off chains wherever I meet with them.”
-
-"You may meet with them in the woods, or as far over the prairie as you
-are likely to walk, my dear sir, for this lad is a notorious runaway: he
-has escaped three times. Nothing short of such an offence could have
-made me do any thing which might appear harsh. If he runs away again, I
-assure you I shall be compelled to employ the restraint in question: I
-give you warning that I must. So, if you should meet him, thus
-restrained, you know——"
-
-"O, yes; I shall know what to do. I shall take off the chain that he may
-hie the faster.——I see your conservatory is in great beauty. I imagine
-you must have adopted Arthur’s notion about warming it."
-
-“Not Mr. Sneyd’s. O, no; it was Mrs. Temple’s idea.”
-
-“Not originally; it was Arthur who advised me,” declared Mrs. Temple. “I
-hope you will soon have some of the benefit of his devices about the
-kitchen-garden, father. The gardener has orders to send you some of the
-first vegetables and fruit that are ready for gathering; and I am going
-to carry my mother some flowers to-day.”
-
-“I was about to ask when you will dine with us,” said Dr. Sneyd. “I
-think it had better be when some of the good things you speak of are
-ready; for we have few luxuries to offer you. But when will you come?”
-
-Mr. Temple was sorry that his time was now so occupied with
-business,—his affairs at the land-office, in addition to all his own
-concerns,—that he could form no engagements. Mrs. Temple would answer
-for herself and her son.
-
-Dr. Sneyd was not aware of this new occupation of Mr. Temple’s. He was
-particularly glad to hear of it, and told it to his wife as a piece of
-very good news, as soon as he got home. They both hoped that their
-daughter would be all the happier for her husband having something to do
-and to think about, beyond his own affairs.
-
-“What is all this?” cried Mr. Temple, returning from bowing out Dr.
-Sneyd with much civility. “What accident happened last night, pray?”
-
-On being told of the upsetting of the waggon, he was not the less angry
-for his internal consciousness that he caused himself to be treated like
-a child, by being unable to bear cross accidents. His horse was ordered
-instantly, his morning gown exchanged for his pretty riding equipments,
-and his wife and son left to gaze from one window and another to learn,
-if possible, what was to happen next, and to reason with one another
-about their lesser troubles, after the manner of tender mothers and
-confiding children. Temmy saw very clearly that it could do no good to
-cry whenever squirrels were mentioned, and that it must be much
-pleasanter to papa to see his boy smile, and to hear him answer
-cheerfully, than——The child’s memory could supply the contrast. This
-same papa was all the time in great trouble without reasoning. He
-pursued his way to the Creek as if he had been in mortal terror of the
-groom who followed at his heels.
-
-“Aside the devil turned for envy,” says Milton. Such a pang has since
-been the lot of many a splenetic descendant of the arch-fiend, on
-witnessing happiness that he not only could not share, but could not
-sympathize in. Such a pang exasperated Mr. Temple on casting his first
-glance over the scene of the frolic. He despised every body there, from
-Arthur, now brandishing his rule, now lending a hand to place a heavy
-beam, to the youngest of Dods’s children, who thought she was helping by
-sticking corn-cobs into the crevices of the logs. He despised Brawn, the
-woodsman, with his round shoulders, enormous bush of hair, and hands
-that looked as if they could lift up a house. He despised the daughters,
-Black Brawnee and Brown Brawnee, as they were called. He was never very
-easy when he fell in with these girls in the depths of the forest,
-tapping their row of maple trees, and kneeling at the troughs beneath;
-or on the flowery prairie, lining the wild bees to their haunt in the
-hollow tree. He felt himself an object of ridicule to these daughters of
-the forest, and so insignificant in respect of all the qualifications
-which they valued, that none of his personal accomplishments gave him
-any comfortable feeling of confidence in their presence; and the
-merriment with which they now pursued as sport a toil which would have
-been death to him, irritated him to a degree which they were amused to
-witness. He despised the whole apparatus of festivity: the pig roasting
-in the shade, and the bustle of the women preparing the various messes
-of corn, and exhibiting their stores of salt beef. He pronounced the
-whole vulgar,—so excessively vulgar,—that he could not endure that a son
-of Dr. Sneyd’s should be assisting in the fête. The axe and mattock
-sounded in a very annoying way; the buzz of voices and of laughter were
-highly discreditable to the order of the place; and the work was so
-rough that, in all probability, he should be obliged to witness some
-wounds or bruises if he did not get away. So he hastened to conceal his
-envy from himself, and to express his contempt as plainly as possible.
-
-He raised himself in his stirrups, and called out his men by name. They
-came forth unwillingly, having but just arrived to join the frolic, and
-suspecting that their capricious master meant to send them home again. A
-glance of mutual condolence between two of them was observed by Mr.
-Temple, and did no good to their cause. They were ordered to return
-instantly to their work in the park-field, and to appear no more near
-the Creek this day.
-
-“We will do some of their work in the park-field to-morrow, Mr. Temple,”
-said Arthur, “if you will let us have the benefit of their labour now.”
-
-Under a sense of infinite obligation, Mr. Temple explained that he
-permitted none but his own people,—no vagabond woodsmen,—no workmen who
-came hither because they were driven out of the civilized world,—to
-touch his land. And, after the losses of the preceding evening, he could
-not think of giving his men a holiday,—losses of which Arthur had not
-even had the grace to apprize him. Arthur was surprized. He could not
-have supposed that such a piece of news could have been long in
-travelling through the village of Briery Creek, considering that
-Temple’s man had been one of the waggoners, Temple’s son a witness of
-the whole, and the entire population of the place on the spot before the
-adventure was finished. Why was it more Arthur’s duty than any one’s
-else to carry him the disagreeable news?
-
-"Your not having done it, Mr. Sneyd, is of a piece with your conduct
-about the cattle-marks, sir,—of a piece with the whole of your conduct
-since you entered upon your speculations in my neighbourhood. My men
-shall know the story of the cattle-marks, sir, and then we shall see
-which of them will stir a finger to help you with your bridge."
-
-“What about the cattle-marks?” asked Arthur, with a perplexed look. “If
-you told me, I am afraid I have forgotten.”
-
-“You could have given me the earliest intelligence, I fancy, sir. If I
-mistake not, you have entered, at the land-office, your design of
-marking your sheep and pigs with three slanting slits in the right ear.”
-
-This was true.
-
-"And your determination was not made known,—it was not, in fact,
-taken,—till the fifteenth of last month."
-
-“I dare say not. I planned it just before my second visit to the land-
-office, which was about the middle of last month.”
-
-“Very well, sir; the fifteenth was your day. Now, I have evidence to
-prove that on the thirteenth I informed my son, who, I understand,
-informed Dr. Sneyd, that it was my intention to mark my cattle with
-three slanting slits in the right ear.”
-
-“Well! what then?”
-
-"Why, just that circumstances have so fallen out as to defeat your
-design, sir, which I will not stop to characterize. I have a connexion
-with the land-office, sir, which you were perhaps not aware of; and my
-sheep and pigs will run no risk of being confounded with yours. It is
-very well to ask—‘What then?’ I should like to know whether my sheep and
-pigs do not far out-number yours: and how was any one to distinguish the
-one from the other, straying in the woods and prairies, if all were
-marked with three slanting slits in the right ear?"
-
-Arthur would not stoop to reply to the insinuations of his brother-in-
-law. He did, for a moment, condescend to lose his temper, and would
-probably have frightened the intruder off the ground by an exhibition of
-passion, if the Brawnees and their father, and a few others who had
-nothing to hope or fear from Temple, had not relieved him by a timely
-burst of laughter. Dods dared not laugh, for he was brickmaker to
-Temple; and much building remained to be done about the lodge. Others,
-among whom the gentleman’s money was distributed in profusion, appeared
-not to observe what was going on. Arthur only observed, before
-recommencing his labours,—
-
-“I am surprised to hear all this, Mr. Temple. I thought your cattle had
-been much too proud to stray about the woods like the beasts of poor,
-common settlers like us. I am sure when I grow rich enough to have
-stables, and styes, and pens, such as you can command, my horses will
-never be heard tinkling their bells in the forest in the evening, and
-nobody will run over a pig of mine in the prairie.”
-
-“And yet you can spare time to build bridges, Mr. Sneyd; and you can
-contribute materials for a market-house and a cheese dairy. It is not to
-every body that you complain of poverty.”
-
-“To no one do I complain of poverty. I am not poor. Nobody present is
-poor. There was but one short period when any of us could be justly
-called so; and that was when each of us had barely enough to supply his
-own actual wants.”
-
-“That did not last long,” said Dods. “In a young settlement like ours,
-two years ago, every act of labour tells. Ah! there goes my gentleman! I
-thought so. He never stays to be reminded what a barbarous place he has
-got into.”
-
-“Whatever brought him here,” observed Brawn, “is more than any of us can
-tell. I have seen new settlers enough in my day, my life having lain
-among new clearings. Many a rough farmer, many a pale mechanic, have I
-seen; the one looking gloomily into the waste before him, and the other
-sinking under the toil that was too new to him. And many a trader has
-passed through with his stores, and many a speculator come to gamble in
-land, and go away again. But a beau like this, with a power of money to
-spend, without caring to earn any, is a thing I have heard tell of far
-to the east, but never thought to see. It makes one waken one’s ears to
-hear what travellers tell of the reason.”
-
-Arthur could have told the reason, as his neighbours knew; and it was
-probably the hope that he might forget his discretion that made the
-gossips of Briery Creek betake themselves to conjectures in his hearing
-as often as he was believed to have received provocation from Temple. He
-was never known, however, to deny or confirm anything that was said. It
-was pretty well understood that Temple had come here because he had made
-his former place of residence too hot to hold him; but whether he had
-libelled or slain anybody, made himself odious as an informer, enriched
-himself by unfair means, or been unfortunate in a duel, it still
-remained for some accidental revelation to make known.
-
-“How is it, Dods, that you think every act of labour tells in a young
-settlement?” asked Arthur, on resuming work after a large destruction of
-roast pig. “I have always understood that labour is worth more the more
-it is divided; and nowhere is there less division of labour than in a
-young settlement.”
-
-“Very true. I hold that we are both right, because we are speaking of
-different states of affairs. Before people have enough of anything to
-change away, and while each man works for himself, each touch of his
-finger, if one may say so, supplies some want of his own. No need, in
-such days, to trouble your head about whether your work will sell! You
-want a thing; you make it, and use it; and thereby feel how much your
-work is worth. But the case is different when you have more of a thing
-than you want, and would fain change it away. You cannot change it away
-unless others have also something more than they want to use themselves.
-Then they begin to club their labour together, and divide the work among
-them, and try by what means they can get the most done; by such division
-of labour they do get the most done, but it does not follow that the
-workmen flourish accordingly, as they do when each works for himself.”
-
-“Because it becomes more difficult to calculate how much of each sort of
-production will be wanted. The matter becomes perplexed by the wishes of
-so many being concerned. If we could understand those wishes, the more
-we can get produced, the better it would be for everybody.”
-
-“I have tried both the periods we speak of,” said Dods. "Brickmaking was
-a fine business indeed in the part of England where I lived when trade
-was brisk, and manufacturers building country-houses, and speculators
-running up rows of cottages for weavers. But a sudden change knocked me
-up when I least expected it. I went on one summer making bricks as
-before;—for what should I know of the changes that were taking place on
-the other side of the world, and that spread through our manufacturers,
-and weavers, and builders, till they reached me? The first I knew of it
-was, my not selling a brick for the whole season, and seeing house after
-house deserted, till it was plain that my unbaked bricks must melt in
-the winter rains, and those in the kilns crumble in the storms, before
-my labour would be wanted again in that line. As for my little capital,
-it melted and crumbled away with the bricks it was locked up in. Here
-mine was, for a long while, the only brick house. I made not a brick too
-much; so that there was no waste."
-
-“And the same may be said of the work you do for Mr. Temple. There may
-be an exact calculation how many bricks are wanted, so that you can
-proportion your supply exactly to the demand.”
-
-“And use the advantage of division of labour too, sir. No fear of a glut
-coming unawares, when I have the whole of our little range under my own
-eye. One of my boys may dig the clay, and another barrow the bricks to
-the kiln, and the eldest tend the fires, while I am moulding, and no
-fear of our all being thrown out at once by an unexpected glut; and the
-more disastrously, perhaps, for our having turned our mutual help to the
-best account.”
-
-“I rather think your labour is stimulated rather than relaxed by the
-high wages you get here, Mr. Dods.”
-
-"Why, yes. That seems the natural effect of high wages, whatever people
-may say of the desperate hard work of such poor creatures as the Glasgow
-weavers, or the Manchester spinners. I say, look to the Irish, who have
-very poor wages. Do they work hard? I say, look to the labourers in
-India. They have miserable wages. Do they work hard? The difference
-between these and the Lancashire spinners seems to me to be, that in
-India and Ireland, some sort of subsistence,—rice and potatoes, poor
-enough,—is to be had for little labour, and little more can be gained by
-greater labour; while the Lancashire poor can only get a bare
-subsistence by excessive labour, and therefore they labour excessively.
-Put a poor diet of rice within reach of the Lancashire spinner, with the
-knowledge that he can get nothing better, and he will do as little work
-as will procure him a bare subsistence of rice. But try all three with
-high wages, in circumstances where they may add one comfort after
-another to their store, and you will see whether they will relax in
-their toils till they have got all that labour can obtain."
-
-“I say, look to the reason of the case, and it will tell the same story
-as the facts. If a man is lazy, and loves idleness more than the good
-things which industry will bring, there is an end of the matter, as far
-as he is concerned. He is an exception to common rules. But, as long as
-there is no end to the comforts and luxuries which most men prefer to
-idleness, there will be no end of exertion to obtain them. I believe you
-and your sons work harder than you did two years ago, though you have
-ten times as many comforts about you.”
-
-"And my wife, too, I assure you. At first, we used to sit down tired
-before the end of the day, and if we had bread enough for supper, and
-blankets to spread on the floor of our log-house, were apt to think we
-could do no more that day, But when we had wherewith to get salt beef,
-we thought we could work a little harder for something pleasanter to
-drink with it than the brackish water which was used by us all at first,
-for want of a sweeter draught. In like manner, when we once had a brick
-cottage, there was no end of our toil to get things to put into
-it;—first, bedsteads, and seats, and a table; and then crockery, and
-hardware, and matting for the floors; and now my wife has set her mind
-upon carpets, and a looking-glass for her customers to fancy her
-handiwork by. She says ladies always admire her gowns and bonnets most
-when they see them on themselves. It was but this morning that my wife
-vowed that a handsome looking-glass was a necessary of life to her. We
-should all have laughed enough at the idea of such a speech two years
-ago."
-
-“And with the wish, your wife brings the power to obtain these
-comforts.”
-
-"The wish would be worth little without the power; which makes it a
-merciful arrangement that the wish only grows with the power. If my wife
-had longed for a looking-glass before she was able to set about earning
-one with her mantua-making and milliner’s work, she would have been
-suffering under a useless trouble. No: it is a good thing that while
-people are solitary, producing only for themselves, there is no demand
-for other people’s goods——"
-
-"I should say ‘desire.’ There is no demand till the power and the will
-are joined. If your wife had pined for a mirror two years ago, there
-would have been no demand for it on her part. To-morrow, if she offers a
-travelling trader a smart assortment of caps,—or, what is the same
-thing, if she sells her caps to the women of Briery Creek, and gives the
-trader the money for his mirror,—she makes a real and effective demand.
-It seems to me a blessed arrangement, too, that there is always somewhat
-wherewith to supply this demand, and exactly enough to supply it."
-
-“Ay, sir; if we were but sharp-sighted enough to take care that the
-quality was as exactly fitted to human wishes as the quantity. Since we
-none of us produce more than we want, just for the pleasure of toiling,
-it is as plain as possible that every man’s surplus constitutes a
-demand. Well! every man’s surplus is also his neighbour’s supply. The
-instrument of demand that every man brings is also his instrument of
-supply; so that, in point of quantity, there is always a precise
-provision made for human wants.”
-
-"Yes; and if mistakes are made as to the kinds of articles that are
-wished for, there is always the consolation that such mistakes will
-correct one another, as long as there can never be too much of
-everything. If what we have just said be true, there being too much of
-one thing proves that there must be too little of another; and the
-production of the one will be slackened, and that of the other
-quickened, till they are made equal. If your wife makes up more caps by
-half than are wanted, caps will be ruinously cheap. The Brawnees will
-give much less maple sugar for their caps——"
-
-The Brawnees never wore caps, Arthur was reminded.
-
-“But they will, in time, take my word for it, if they remain among us.
-Well! your wife will refuse to sell her caps at so great a loss. She
-will lay them by till the present generation of caps is worn out, and go
-and tap the maple trees for herself, rather than pay others dearly for
-it. In this case, the glut is of caps; and the deficiency is of maple
-sugar.”
-
-“My wife’s gains must depend on her own judgment in adapting her
-millinery to the wants of her customers. If she makes half as many caps
-again as are needed, she deserves to lose, and to have to go out sugar-
-making for herself.”
-
-"Yes: calculation may avail in a small society like this. In a larger
-and more complicated society, the most that prudence can do is to watch
-the changes of wants and wishes, as shown by variations of price. This
-would avail for all practical purposes, if wants and wishes were left to
-themselves. They are so at Briery Creek, and therefore every trader at
-Briery Creek has fair play. But it is not so where bounties, and
-prohibitions, and unequal taxation are made to interfere among buyers
-and sellers: where such disturbing influences exist, the trader has not
-fair play; and it would be a miracle indeed if he could adapt his supply
-to the demand,—or, in other words, be satisfied in his own demand. What
-is moving in the wood there, Dods? What takes all our people away from
-their work when it is so nearly finished?"
-
-“It must be some rare sight,” observed Dods. “Every one, look ye, man,
-woman, and child, skipping over the new bridge while half of it is
-prettily gravelled, and the other half still bare and slippery. See how
-they scramble over the heap of gravel left in the middle! I suppose I
-must follow where they lead, and bring you the news, sir.”
-
-Before Dods had time to complete his first passage over the new bridge,
-the news told itself. A company of soldiers, on their way to occupy a
-military post near, emerged from the green depths of the forest, and
-appeared to be making straight for the ford, without looking to the
-right hand or to the left. Their pleasure was instantly visible when,
-their attention being attracted by a shout from the throng of settlers,
-they perceived a substantial bridge, finished except the gravelling,
-overhanging the stream through which they had expected to be compelled
-to wade. They received with hearty good-will their commander’s
-directions to pay toll of their labour for their passage. Never was a
-public work finished in a more joyous style. The heap of gravel was
-levelled in a trice; and, by particular desire, a substantial handrail
-was fixed for the benefit of careless children, or of any whose nerves
-might be affected by the sight of the restless waters below. Temple was
-riding along a ridge whence he could look down, and hoped to observe how
-much the work was retarded by his labourers being withdrawn. When he saw
-that no help of his was wanted,—that the erection was now complete, the
-refuse logs being piled up out of the way, the boughs carried off for
-fuel, the tools collected, and preparations made for the crowning
-repast,—he put spurs to his horse, and cast hard words at his groom for
-allowing him to forget that he was likely to be late home to dinner.
-
-Arthur, meantime, was engaged with the commander, who explained that his
-men and he would be glad of the advantage of attending divine service on
-the Sunday, if there was any place within reach of their post where they
-might do so. The only place of worship at present in Briery Creek was
-Dr. Sneyd’s house, where he had conducted service since his arrival, for
-the benefit of all who wished to attend. The commander was very anxious
-to be permitted, with his company, to join the assemblage; Arthur had no
-doubt of his father’s willingness. The question was, where they should
-assemble, Dr. Sneyd’s house not being large enough for so many. One
-proposed the verge of the forest; but Dr. Sneyd was not, at his age,
-made to abide changes of weather like the hardy settlers about him.
-Arthur’s barn was too far off for the convenience of all parties. Nobody
-was disposed to ask from Mr. Temple any favour which, being graciously
-granted for one Sunday, might be withdrawn before the next. Could the
-market-house be made fit for the purpose? It was a rude building,
-without seats, and occupied with traffic till the Saturday evening; but
-the neighbours promised to vacate it in time to have it
-cleared,—prepared with log seats, and some sort of pulpit,—and made a
-temple meet for the worship of the heart.
-
-Dr. Sneyd’s afternoon walk brought him to the spot in time to promise to
-do his part. His blessing was ready for the work newly completed, and
-for the parting cup with which the men of peace dismissed the men of
-war, in a spirit of mutual good-will.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER III.
-
- SATURDAY MORNING.
-
-
-The settlers at Briery Creek followed the old custom of the mother
-country, of holding their market on a Saturday. Saturday was an anxious
-day to some, a joyous day to others, and a busy day to all. Many a
-mother bent her steps to the market-house, doubting whether she should
-be able to meet with the delicate food she desired for her baby just
-weaned, or for her invalid husband, getting up from the fever, and
-following her cookery with eager eyes. Many a child held its mother’s
-apron, and watched her bargaining, in the hope that some new and
-tempting article of food would be carried home, after a long sameness;
-or that the unexpected cheapness of her purchases would enable her to
-present him with the long-promised straw hat, or, at least, a pocket-
-full of candy from the Brawnees’ sugar pans. The whole village was early
-astir; and Dr. Sneyd, when he preferred a stroll along the bank of the
-creek to a turn in the market-house with his lady, could distinguish
-from a distance the solitariness of the farm-yards and dwellings, and
-the convergence of driver, drover, rider, and walking trader, towards
-the point of attraction.
-
-Arthur was the centre of all observation. He offered more for sale than
-anybody else: he bought more; and he had the largest division of the
-market-house, excepting always the corner reserved for the passing
-trader, who could spread out riches far transcending what even Arthur
-could boast. To such, the young farmer left it to exhibit bear and
-beaver skins, leather, and store of salted venison, if he came from the
-North or West; and hardware, cotton, cloth and silk goods, books and
-stationery, if he was on his way from the East. Any of these, or all in
-their turn, Arthur bought; but his sales, various as they were
-considered, were confined to a few articles of food. He traded, not for
-wealth of money, but of comfort. His purchases were of two kinds,
-neither of which were destined for sale, as were those of the trader to
-whom he yielded precedence in the market-house. He bought implements to
-replace those which were worn out; and this kind of purchase was a
-similar sort of expenditure to that of the seed-corn which was put into
-the ground, and the repairs bestowed upon his fences and barn;—it was an
-expenditure of capital—capital consumed for purposes of reproduction
-with increase. With the surplus left after thus replacing his former
-capital, and perpetually adding to it, Arthur purchased articles of
-unproductive consumption; some for his house, which was becoming so much
-prettier than a bachelor could want, that the gossips of Briery Creek
-began to speculate on whom he had chosen to share the occupancy; some
-for his table, as the sugar of the Brawnees; some for his person, as the
-stout leggings which Dods occupied himself in making in rainy weather;
-and some for his friends, as when he could lay hold of a political
-journal for his father, or of a fur tippet for his mother, or of a set
-of pencils for Temmy to sketch with when he came to the farm. (Arthur
-seldom went to Mr. Temple’s; but he found time to give Temmy many a
-drawing-lesson at the farm.) Now that Arthur had not only a growing
-capital, but a surplus after replacing it—a revenue, which furnished him
-with more comforts perpetually, he was unwilling that his sister should
-feel so hurt as he knew she did at her husband not having assisted him
-with capital, from the time that he took his farm in the shape of a
-patch of prairie. In the early days of his enterprise, he would have
-been truly thankful for such an addition to his small stock of dollars
-as would have enabled him to cultivate a larger extent of ground, and
-live less hardly while his little property was growing faster; but now
-that he had surmounted his first difficulties, and was actually
-justified in enlarging his unproductive expenditure, he wished Mrs.
-Temple to forget that her husband had declined assisting her brother,
-and be satisfied that the rich man had not been able to hinder the
-prosperity he would not promote.
-
-The prosperity of the whole village would have increased more rapidly
-than it did, if all the inhabitants had been as careful in their
-consumption as Arthur. Not only did Temple expend lavishly in caprices
-as well as luxuries, and the surgeon-tavern-keeper tempt many a labourer
-and small proprietor to spend that in whisky which ought to have been
-laid out (if not productively) in enjoyments that were innocent,—but
-there was a prevalence of wasteful habits, against which Arthur and his
-establishment might have served as a sufficient example. The merit of
-the order which was observable on his farm was partly due to himself,
-partly to Mrs. Sneyd, (who kept a maternal eye on all his interests,)
-and partly to Isaac’s wife, who superintended his dairy and dwelling-
-house.
-
-On this market morning,—after a day of extraordinary fatigue,—the slate
-of the place at six o’clock might have shamed many a farm-house in a
-region where there is a superabundance instead of a dearth of female
-service. Isaac’s wife had no maid to help her but her own little maidens
-of four and three years old; yet, by six o’clock, when her employer was
-driving his market-cart to the place of traffic, the milk was duly set
-by in the pans, the poultry were fed, the tallow with which she was
-about to make candles was preparing while she made the beds, and the
-little girls were washing up the breakfast things in the kitchen—the
-elder tenderly wiping the cups and basins which the younger had washed
-in the wooden bowl which her mother had placed and filled for her in the
-middle of the floor, as the place whence it was most certain that it
-could fall no lower. The pigs were in their proper place, within a
-fence, which had a roof in one corner for their shelter in bad weather.
-The horses and cattle were all properly marked, and duly made musical
-with bells, when turned out into the woods. There was a well of pure
-water, so guarded, that the children and other young animals could not
-run into it unawares; and all the wild beasts of the forest had tried
-the strength of the fences in vain. Arthur had not, therefore, had to
-pay for the luxurious feasts of his enemies of the earth or air, or for
-any of that consumption which may, in a special sense, be called
-unproductive, since it yields neither profit to the substance nor
-pleasure to the mind. If a similar economy had pervaded the settlement,
-its gross annual produce would have more rapidly increased, and a larger
-revenue would have been set at liberty to promote the civilization of
-the society in improving the comfort of individuals.
-
-Brawn and his daughters could never be made to attend to this. The
-resources which they wasted would have tilled many an acre of good land,
-or have built a school-house, or have turned their habitation of logs
-into a respectable brick tenement, with grassy field and fruitful
-garden. They preferred what they called ease and liberty; and the waste
-they caused might be considered as revenue spent on a pleasure,—a very
-unintelligible pleasure,—of their own choice. As long as they supported
-themselves without defrauding their neighbours, (and fraud was the last
-thing they could have been made to understand,) no one had a right to
-interfere with their methods of enjoyment any more than with Temple’s
-conservatory, or Dr. Sneyd’s library, or Mrs. Dods’s passion for mirrors
-and old china; but it was allowable to be sorry for so depraved a taste,
-and to have a very decided opinion of its injuriousness to society, and
-consequent immorality. This very morning there was dire confusion in
-their corner of the settlement. For some days the girls had been bee-
-hunting, being anxious to bring the first honey of the season into the
-market. In order to make up for the time spent on the new bridge, they
-were abroad at sunrise this day to track the wild bees in their earliest
-flight; but after such a fashion, that it would have answered better to
-them to be at home and asleep. Yet they succeeded in their object. The
-morning was just such as to tempt all things that fly from the hollow
-tree, from which the mists had drawn off, leaving a diamond token on
-every leaf. The sun began to shine warm through the summer haze, and the
-wild flowers of the prairie to look up and brighten at his presence. As
-the brown sisters threaded the narrow ways of the woods, bursting
-through the wild vines, and bringing a shower of dew on their heads from
-sycamore and beech, many a winged creature hummed, or buzzed, or flitted
-by,—the languid drone, or the fierce hornet, or white butterflies in
-pairs, chasing one another into the loftiest and greenest recess of the
-leafy canopy. Presently came the honey-bee, winging its way to the sunny
-space—the natural herb-garden, to which the girls were hastening; and
-when there, what a hovering, and buzzing, and sipping, and flitting was
-going on! The bee-women laughed in anticipation of their sport as they
-drew on their leathern mittens, and applied themselves to catch a loaded
-bee in each hand. They agreed on their respective stations of
-experiment, and separating, let fly their prisoners, one by one,
-tracking the homeward course of each, with a practised eye, through a
-maze of boughs, and flickering lights and shadows, and clustered stems,
-which would have perplexed the vision of a novice. The four bees being
-let fly from different stations, the point at which their lines of
-flight must intersect each other was that at which the honeycomb might
-be surely found; and a rich store it was,—liquid, clear, and
-fragrant,—such as would assuredly make the mouth water of every little
-person in the village who had advanced beyond a milk diet. Another and
-another hollow tree was found thus to give forth sweetness from its
-decay, till the bee-women shook back the lank hair from before their
-eyes, gathered up such tatters of their woollen garments as they had not
-left on the bushes by the way, and addressed themselves to return. On
-their walk it was that they discovered that they had lost more this
-morning than many such a ramble as theirs could repay.
-
-A vast cluttering and screaming of fowls was the first thing that drew
-off their attention from their fragrant load. Some of the poor poultry
-that their father had been plucking alive (as he was wont to do six
-times a year) had evidently made their escape from his hands half
-plucked, and were now making short flights, higher and farther from
-home, so that it was more probable that they would join their wild
-acquaintance, the turkeys or the prairie fowl, than return to roost
-among the logs. Next appeared,—now entangling its hind legs among the
-vines, now poking its snout into a ground-squirrel’s nest, and now
-scuttling away from pursuit,—a fine young porker, which had been shut up
-from its rambles for some time past. The sisters gave chase to their own
-property; but all in vain: their pursuit only drove the animal farther
-into the wood, and they hastened home to give notice of the disaster.
-They could see nothing of Brawn about the house, but could not look
-farther for him till they had discovered the meaning of the light smoke
-which issued from the door and the crevices of the log-wall. Black
-Brawnee’s best gown was burning before the fire,—the splendid cotton
-gown, with a scarlet ground and a pattern of golden flowers, which, to
-the astonishment of every body, she had taken a fancy to buy of a
-passing trader, and which she had washed and hung up to dry in
-preparation for the market: it was smouldering away, leaving only a
-fragment to tell the tale. Next came a moan from an enclosure behind the
-cottage, and there lay a favourite young colt with two legs so broken
-that it was plain the poor animal would never more stand. How it
-happened could not be learned from the dumb beast, nor from the two or
-three other beasts that were huddled together in this place, where they
-had no business to be. It seemed as if, in some grand panic, the animals
-had tumbled over one another, leaving the colt to be the chief sufferer.
-But where was Brawn himself? He was moaning, too, in a hollow place in
-the wood, where he had made a false leap, and fallen so as to sprain his
-ankle, while in pursuit of the runaway porker.
-
-“What brought ye here?” asked the brown damsel, as she raised her father
-with one application of strength.
-
-“What carried the porker into the forest?” he asked, in reply.
-
-“Ask him. We did not give him room,” said one.
-
-“No need,” retorted the other. “Who left the gate open?”
-
-“That did we both, this morning, for the cause that there is no
-fastening.”
-
-“No latch; but a fastening there is. I knotted the rope last night, and
-so might you this morning. The loss of the porker comes of losing the
-lamb.”
-
-“My lamb!” was repeated, with every variety of lamentation, by both the
-damsels. It was too true. For want of a latch, the gate of the enclosure
-was tied with a rope. The damsels found the tying too troublesome, and
-merely pulled it after them. Little by little it had swung open. A
-sharp-set wild cat had stolen in to make choice of a meal, and run out
-again with the pet lamb. The master had followed the lamb, and the
-porker made the best of his opportunity, and followed the master. Then
-ensued the hue and cry which drove the beasts over the poor colt; and,
-meantime, the scarlet gown, one sleeve of which had been puffed into the
-fire by Brawn’s hasty exit, was accelerating the smoking of the dried
-beef which hung from the rafters. A vast unproductive consumption for
-one morning!
-
-The damsels made nothing of carrying their father home, and, after
-bathing his ankle, laying him down on his back to study the rafters till
-they should return from the market. It was a much harder task to go to
-market; the one without her scarlet and yellow gown, and the other with
-grief for her lamb lying heavy at her heart.
-
-They found their pigs very trying to their tempers this morning. Instead
-of killing them, and carrying them to market in that quiet state, as
-usual, the damsels had resolved to make the attempt to drive them; as,
-from the abundance of pork in all its forms in the market just now, a
-sale was very uncertain. To drive pigs along a high road is not a very
-easy task; what then must it be in a wild country, where it is difficult
-even to follow their vagaries, and nearly impossible to reclaim them?
-The Brawnees agreed that to prevent such vagaries offered the only hope
-of getting to market in time; and one therefore belled the old hog which
-was to be her special charge, while the other was to promote to the
-utmost the effect of the bell-music on the younger members of the drove.
-The task was not made easier by the poor beasts having been very ill-
-fed. There was little in the coarse, sour prairie grass to tempt them;
-but patches of juicy green were but too visible here and there where
-travellers had encamped, feeding their beasts with hay, and leaving the
-seeds of the perennial verdure which was to spring up after the next
-rains. Nothing could keep the old hog and the headlong train from these
-patches, whether they lay far or near; insomuch that the sisters were
-twenty times tempted to leave their swine to their own devices, and sell
-no pork that day. But the not selling involved the not buying; and this
-thought generated new efforts of patience and of skill. When they
-arrived at the scene of exchange, and cast a glance on Mrs. Dods’s
-display of cotton garments set off with here and there a muslin cap, and
-paraphernalia of pink and green; or on a pile of butter which they were
-not neat-handed enough to rival; or into wicker baskets of crockery, or
-upon the trader’s ample store of blankets, knives, horn spoons, and
-plumes of red and blue feathers, they felt that it would indeed have
-been cruel to be compelled to quit the market without any of the
-articles that were offered to their choice. Nobody, however, inquired
-for their pigs. One neighbour was even saucy enough to laugh at their
-appearance.
-
-“You had better buy a load of my pumpkins,” said Kendall, the surgeon
-and tavern-keeper. “Your swine will be more fit for market next week, if
-you feed them on my fine pumpkins in the meanwhile.”
-
-“When we want pumpkins,” said one of them, “we will go to those that
-have ground to grow them on. You have not bought a field, and grown
-pumpkins since yesterday, I suppose?”
-
-“By no means. I have a slip of a garden, let me tell you; and, though it
-is but a slip, it is of rare mellow mould, where the vines strike at
-every joint as they run. My wife has kept enough for pies for all the
-travellers that may pass before next spring. One load is bespoken at
-four dollars; and you will take the other, if you are wise. There are a
-few gourds with them, too.”
-
-“Gourds! Who cares for gourds?”
-
-“Who can do without gourds, say I? I am sure we, at the tavern, could
-not, so dear as crockery is at this place. Cut off the top, and you have
-a bottle; cut off top and tail, and you have a funnel; cut it in two,
-and you have cups; slice off one side, and you have a ladle. Take my
-gourds, I advise you, and set yonder crockery-man at defiance, with his
-monstrous prices and brittle ware.”
-
-“We have no drunken guests to break our cups and bottles; and as for
-prices, how do you know that they are a matter of concern to us? If we
-take your load, it shall be the pumpkins without the gourds.”
-
-“You will take the pumpkins, then?”
-
-“If you take the sum out in pork or honey. We want our dollars for the
-crockery-man.”
-
-“Pork, no! I think we shall all grunt soon. We are pretty sure to have
-no Jews come our way. We all have bacon for the morning meal; and a pig
-for dinner, and salt pork for supper. When one whistles to the birds,
-there comes a squeal instead of a chirp; and as sure as one walks in the
-dark, one stumbles over a pig. Our children learn to grunt before they
-set about speaking. No pork for me! We have a glut of pigs.”
-
-“Honey, then. Your wife wants honey for her pumpkin-pies; and I have
-heard that you set out mead sometimes at your tavern.”
-
-“And till you cheapen your sugar, we want honey to sweeten our
-travellers’ coffee, and treat the children with. How much honey will you
-give me for my load?”
-
-The damsel was checked in her answer by her sister, who perceived that
-many eyes were turned towards their fragrant store, and that no other
-bee-hunters seemed to be in the market. A dollar a gallon was the price
-announced by the sisters, after a consultation. Mr. Kendall shook his
-head, and stood aside for awhile. The truth was, he was full as much in
-want of honey for his purposes as an apothecary, as his wife for her
-coffee and pies. He was resolved to get some, at whatever price, and
-waited to put in his word at the first favourable opportunity.
-
-Arthur was no less determined upon a purchase of sweets. His mother
-began to be in distress about her preserves. Her fruit was all ripe, and
-craving to be preserved; but the destined sugar had gone to sweeten the
-waters in the Creek. She entreated her son to bring her some honey. None
-could be found in the woods near the farm. Every body was hay-making, or
-about to make hay, and could not go out bee-hunting. The Brawnees were
-the only resource.
-
-“I want some of your honey,” said he, catching the eye of the damsel of
-the burned gown, over the group which intervened.
-
-“You shall have it, and no one else,” was her reply.
-
-She was again checked by her sister, who knew her disposition to serve
-Arthur, at the expense of her own interests, and those of every body
-else.
-
-“What will you give?” asked the more prudent one.
-
-“Pigs; we can agree on the price.”
-
-The one sister shook her head; the other suddenly discovered that it
-would be a good plan to improve and enlarge their wealth of swine while
-swine were cheap. She offered her five gallons of honey for one fat pig;
-which offer caused her sister much consternation, and made Kendall hope
-that the honey would be his, after all.
-
-“No, no,” said Arthur. "Your terms are not fair——"
-
-"Then I will get another gallon or two before the sun goes down, to make
-up——"
-
-“I mean altogether the other way,” replied Arthur. “I do not want to
-force my pigs upon you; but if you take them, you shall have them cheap,
-since there is but a poor demand for them to-day. You shall have two of
-those pigs for your five gallons; and if your sister thinks that not
-enough, the difference shall be made up in fresh butter.”
-
-While the bargain was being discussed, one sister controlling the
-generosity of the other, and her admiration of Arthur’s generosity,
-while Arthur was thinking of nothing but fair play, Kendall wandered
-away discontented, seeing that his chance was over.
-
-“You do not happen to have any honey to sell, Mrs. Dods?” said he, as he
-passed the stall of cottons and muslins.
-
-“O, dear, no, Mr. Kendall. It is what I want above every thing. Really,
-it is impossible to persuade an eye to look at my caps to-day, though
-the pattern has never been introduced here before. There is no use in my
-attempting to deal with ladies who dress in such a strange style as
-Brawn’s daughters. Nothing would look becoming on them; or I am sure I
-would make a sacrifice even on this tasty new thing, to get something to
-sweeten my husband’s toddy with. Indeed I expect to be obliged to make a
-sacrifice, at all events, to-day; as I beg you will tell Mrs. Kendall.
-There being such a profusion of pigs, and so little honey to-day, seems
-to have put us all out as to our prices.”
-
-“How happens it, Mrs. Dods?”
-
-"In the first place, they say, there was never such a season known for
-young pigs. The price has fallen so that the plenty does more harm than
-good to the owners; as is the complaint of farmers, you know, when the
-crops are better than ordinary, and they cannot enlarge their market at
-will. Then, again, there seems to have been miscalculation;—no one
-appears to have been aware that every body would bring pigs, and nobody
-any honey, except those slovenly young women."
-
-“Ah! both causes of glut in full operation!” exclaimed Kendall. “The
-caprice of seasons, and the miscalculation of man!”
-
-“And of woman too, Mr. Kendall. If you will believe me, I have been at
-work early and late, after my fashions, this week; ay, I declined going
-to see the bridge finished, and put off our wedding-day treat, for the
-sake of getting my stock into pretty order by to-day; and I have
-scarcely had a bid yet, or even a word from a neighbour, till you came.
-I did not calculate on the demand for honey, and the neglect of every
-thing else. Every body is complaining of the same thing.”
-
-"It seems strange, Mrs. Dods, that while we all want to sell, and all to
-buy, we cannot make our wants agree. I bring my demand to Mr. Arthur,—my
-load of pumpkins and request of honey or sugar. He wants no pumpkins,
-and has no honey. I bring the same to you. You want no pumpkins, and
-offer me caps. Now I might perhaps get dollars for my pumpkins; but I
-want only one cap——"
-
-"You do want one, then! Here is a pretty thing, that would just suit
-your wife——"
-
-“Let me go on. I bring my demand to those dark girls: and the best of it
-is, they do want pumpkins, and could let me have honey; but the young
-farmer comes between, with his superfluity of pigs, to offer a better
-bargain; so that I suffer equally from the glut of pork and the dearth
-of honey.”
-
-“We are all suffering, so that any stranger would say that there is a
-glut of every thing but honey. Neither millinery, nor blankets, nor
-knives, nor flower-seeds are selling yet. But I believe there is no glut
-of any thing but pigs. If we could put them out of the market, and put
-honey out of people’s heads, I have little doubt we should exchange, to
-our mutual satisfaction, as many articles as would set against each
-other, till few would be left.”
-
-“I hope to see this happen before night, and then I may be rid of my
-pumpkins, and carry home a cap at a price we should neither of us
-grumble at, and keep the rest of my dollars for honey hereafter.”
-
-“Next week. No doubt, there will be a fine supply of it next week.
-Perhaps a glut: for a glut often follows close upon a scarcity.”
-
-"Which should make us careful to husband our stocks till we are sure we
-can renew them; like the wise Joseph in Egypt.—That puts a thing into my
-head. I have a good mind to take the girls’ offer of pigs for my
-pumpkins. Who knows but there may be a scarcity of pork after all this
-plenty—which is apt to make people wasteful? If they will, they shall
-have half a load for two of their lean animals; and I will keep the
-other half load to feed them upon."
-
-“Ah! that is always the way people’s wishes grow with opportunity. This
-morning, you thought of no such thing as keeping pigs; and now, before
-night, you will have two.”
-
-“To be sure, Mrs. Dods. Very natural! The demand always grows as wealth
-grows, you know. When the farmer makes his land yield double by good
-tillage, he demands double the commodities he demanded before; and if
-nature gives us a multitude of pigs, a new demand will open in the same
-way.”
-
-"And there is a double supply at the same time,—of corn by the farmer,
-and of pigs by the porkseller. Well! in either case, there is a better
-chance opened for my caps. The more wealth there is, the better hope of
-a sale of millinery. You must not forget that, Mr. Kendall. You promised
-to take one of my caps, you know."
-
-“Why, so I did; but how to pay for it, I am sure I don’t know. I am not
-going to sell my load for money, you see.”
-
-“Well, I will tell you how. Get three lean pigs, and part with a few
-more pumpkins. I will take a pig for this pretty cap. I am somewhat of
-your opinion that pigs will soon be worth more than they are now.”
-
-“And so you help to quicken the demand.”
-
-"Yes. My boys will manage to keep the animal,—behind the house, or in
-the brickfield. And it would be a thousand pities your wife should not
-have this cap. I had her before my mind’s eye while making it, I do
-assure you;—and it will soon lose its bloom if it goes into my window,
-or upon my shelves again."
-
-The negotiation was happily concluded; and, by the end of the day, when
-pigs and honey were put out of the question, a brisk traffic took place
-in the remaining articles, respecting which the wishes of the buyers and
-sellers agreed better than they had done about the disproportioned
-commodities. All had come with a demand; and each one’s instrument of
-demand was his neighbour’s means of supply: so that the market would
-have been entirely cleared, if they had but known one another’s wishes
-well enough to calculate what kinds of produce they should bring. If
-this had been done, there would have been more honey; and if, from a
-caprice of nature, there had been still more pigs than usual, the only
-consequence would have been that the demander of pork would have
-received more of it to his bargain, or that the supplier of pigs would
-have kept back some of his pork, to be an additional future instrument
-of demand. In this case, no one would have lost, and some one would have
-gained.
-
-As it was, Arthur was a loser. He paid much more for honey than would
-probably be necessary the next week. But he thought himself in another
-sense a gainer,—in proportion to the pleasure of obliging his mother.
-The Brawnees carried home two thirds of a load of pumpkins, two fat
-pigs, and a cherished store of fresh butter, in the place of their five
-gallons of honey and three lean swine. They were decidedly gainers;
-though not, perhaps, to the extent they might have been if they had been
-unscrupulous about pressing their customer hard. Any one but Arthur
-would have been made to yield more wealth than this; but they were well
-content with having pleased him, and repaired in part the losses of the
-morning.
-
-Other parties left little to be removed in preparation for the Sunday.
-Having carried home their purchases first, they returned for the small
-remainder of their stock; and the evening closed with a sort of minor
-frolic, the children running after the stray feathers their mothers were
-sweeping away, and the men ranging logs for seats, and providing a
-platform and desk for the use of Dr. Sneyd. One or two serious people
-were alarmed at the act of thus turning a house of merchandise into a
-temple of worship; but the greater number thought that the main
-consideration was to gather together as many worshippers as could be
-collected in the heart of their wilderness. Such an accession as was now
-promised to their congregation seemed to mark an era in the history of
-their community.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER IV.
-
- SUNDAY EVENING.
-
-
-Temmy was fond of feeling his grandfather’s hand upon his shoulder any
-day of the week; but on the Sunday evening, in particular, it was
-delightful to the boy to share the leisure of the family. Many a tale of
-old times had Mrs. Sneyd then to tell; many a curious secret of things
-in earth, air, and heaven, had the doctor to disclose; and uncle Arthur
-was always ready to hear of the doings of the last week, and to promise
-favours for the time to come. It was seldom that Temmy could enjoy a
-whole evening of such pleasures;—only when Mr. Temple chose to make an
-excursion, and carry his lady with him, or to go to bed at eight o’clock
-because his ennui had by that time become intolerable. Usually, Temmy
-could be spared only for an hour or two, and was sure to be fetched away
-in the midst of the most interesting of all his grandmamma’s stories, or
-the most anxious of the doctor’s experiments.
-
-This evening,—the evening of the day of opening the market-house for
-worship,—the poor boy had given up all hope of getting beyond the
-boundaries of the Lodge. Mr. Temple was, as he said, very ill; as every
-body else would have said,—in a very intolerable humour. He could not
-bear sunshine or sound. His wife must sit behind closed shutters, and
-was grievously punished for her inability to keep the birds from
-singing. Temmy must not move from the foot of the sofa, except to ring
-the bell every two minutes, and carry scolding messages every quarter of
-an hour; in return for which he was reproved till he cried for moving
-about, and opening and shutting the door. At length, to the great joy of
-every body, the gentleman went to bed, having drunk as much wine as his
-head would bear, and finding no relief to his many ailments from that
-sort of medicine. This final measure was accomplished just in time for
-the drawing-room windows to be thrown open to the level rays of the sun,
-and the last breath of the closing flowers. The wine was carried away,
-and Ephraim called for to attend his young master to Dr. Sneyd’s. Temmy
-was to explain why Mrs. Temple could not leave home this evening, and he
-might stay till Dr. Sneyd himself should think it time for him to
-return. Without the usual formalities of pony, groom, and what not,
-Temmy was soon on the way, and in another half-hour had nearly forgotten
-papa’s terrible headache under the blessed influence of grandpapa’s ease
-of heart.
-
-Uncle Arthur was sitting astride on the low window-sill of the study,
-with Temmy hanging on his shoulder, when a golden planet showed itself
-above the black line of the forest. The moon had not risen, so that
-there was no rival in the heaven; and when the evening had darkened a
-little more, Temmy fancied that this bright orb cast a faint light upon
-his grandfather’s silver hairs, and over uncle Arthur’s handsome,
-weather-browned face. Temmy had often heard that his father had much
-beauty; and certainly his picture seemed to have been taken a great many
-times; yet the boy always forgot to look for this beauty except when
-some of these pictures were brought out, while he admired uncle Arthur’s
-dark eyes, and beautiful smile and high forehead, more and more every
-time he saw him. It was very lucky that uncle Arthur looked so well
-without combing his eye-brows, and oiling his hair, and using three
-sorts of soap for his hands, and three different steel instruments, of
-mysterious construction, for his nails; for the young farmer had no time
-for such amusements. It was also well that he was not troubled with
-fears for his complexion from the summer’s sun, or from the evening air
-in the keenest night of winter. This was lucky, even as far as his good
-looks were concerned, for, if he looked well by candle-light, he looked
-better in the joyous, busy noon; and more dignified still when taking
-his rest in the moonlight; and, as Temmy now thought, noblest of all
-while under the stars. If papa could see him now, perhaps he would not
-laugh so very much as usual about uncle Arthur’s being tanned, and
-letting his hair go as it would.
-
-“Shall we mount to the telescopes, father?” asked Arthur. “The boy will
-have time to enjoy them to-night. I will take care of him home, if
-Ephraim dares not stay.”
-
-Dr. Sneyd rose briskly, observing that it would indeed be a pity to lose
-such an evening. Temmy grasped his grandmamma’s hand, hoping that she
-was going too. He scarcely knew why, but he felt the observatory to be a
-very awful place, particularly at night, when only a faint bluish light
-came in through the crevices of the shifting boards; or a stray beam,
-mysteriously bright, fell from the end of the slanting telescope, and
-visibly moved on the floor. Grandpapa was rather apt to forget Temmy
-when he once got into the observatory, and to leave him shivering in a
-dark corner, wondering why every body spoke low in this place, and
-afraid to ask whether the stars really made any music which mortal ears
-might listen for. When grandpapa did remember the boy, he was not aware
-that he was uneasy and out of breath, but would call him here and send
-him there, just as he did in the study in broad daylight. It had been
-very different with grandmamma, the only time she had mounted hither
-with him. She had held his hand all the while, and found out that, tall
-as he was grown, he could see better by sitting on her knee; and she had
-clasped him round the waist, as if she had found out that he trembled.
-Perhaps she had heard his teeth chatter, though grandpapa did not. Temmy
-hoped they would not chatter to-night, as he did not wish that uncle
-Arthur should hear them; but Mrs. Sneyd was not to be at hand. She
-declared that she should be less tired with walking to the lodge than
-with mounting to the observatory. She would go and spend an hour with
-her daughter, and have some talk with Ephraim by the way.
-
-There needed no excuse for Temmy’s being out of breath, after mounting
-all the stairs in the house, and the ladder of the observatory to boot;
-and the planet which he was to see being still low in the sky was reason
-enough for uncle Arthur to hold him up to the end of the telescope. He
-did not recover his breath, however, as the moments passed on. This was
-a larger instrument than he had ever looked through before, and his
-present impressions were quite different from any former experience. The
-palpable roundness of the orb, the unfathomable black depth in which it
-moved solitary, the silence,—all were as if new to him.
-
-“You see it?” asked Arthur.
-
-“O, yes.”
-
-Another long silence, during which the boy breathed yet more heavily.
-
-“You see it still?”
-
-“No, uncle Arthur.”
-
-“My dear boy, why did you not tell me? We must overtake it. There! there
-it is once more! You must not let it travel out of sight again.”
-
-“How can I stop it?” thought Temmy, and he would fain have pressed his
-hands before his eyes, as the silent vision traversed the space more
-brightly and more rapidly, it seemed to him, every moment. Arthur showed
-him, however,—not how to stop the planet, but how to move the instrument
-so as not to lose sight of it: he then put a stool under him, and told
-him he could now manage for himself. Dr. Sneyd had something to show his
-son on the other side of the heavens.
-
-If Temmy had had the spheres themselves to manage, he could scarcely
-have been in a greater trepidation. He assured himself repeatedly that
-friends were at hand, but his head throbbed so that he could scarcely
-hear their whispers, and the orb now seemed to be dancing as he had seen
-the reflection of the sun dance in a shaken basin of water. He would
-look at something else. He jerked the telescope, and flash went one
-light after another before his eyes, as if the stars themselves were
-going out with a blaze. This would never do. He must look at something
-earthly. After another jerk to each side, which did not serve his
-purpose, he pushed it up, and saw—something which might belong to any of
-the worlds in being,—for Temmy knew no more about it than that it was
-most horrible. An enormous black object swept across the area of vision,
-again and again, as quick as lightning. It would not leave off. Temmy
-uttered a shriek of terror, and half slipped, half tumbled from his
-stool.
-
-“What has the boy found? What can be the matter?” asked grandpapa.
-Arthur presently laughed, and told Temmy he was very clever to have
-found what he should have thought it very difficult to discover from
-this place—Arthur’s own mill;—the new windmill on the mound, whose sails
-were now turning rapidly in the evening breeze. It was some comfort to
-learn that his panic was not much to be wondered at. Uncle Arthur knew
-what it was to take in too near a range with a large telescope. He had
-done so once, and had been startled with an apparition of two red cheeks
-and two staring blue eyes, apparently within half an inch of the end of
-his own nose.
-
-“Here, Temmy,” said Dr. Sneyd, “try whether you can read in this book.”
-
-“Shall I go and get a candle, grandpapa?”
-
-“No, no. I want to see whether a little star yonder will be our candle.
-Lay the book in this gleam of light, and try whether you can read.”
-
-Many strange things were still whisking before Temmy’s eyes, but he
-could make out the small print of the book. He was then shown the star
-that gave the light,—one of the smallest in a bright constellation. He
-heartily wished that nobody would ask him to look at any more stars to-
-night, and soon managed to slip away to the little table, and show that
-he was amused with turning a greater and a lesser light upon the book,
-and showing with how little he could read the title-page, and with how
-much the small type of the notes. The next pleasant thing that happened
-was the lamp being lighted.
-
-“Father,” said Arthur, “you seldom have me for an assistant now. I am
-neither tired nor busy to-night, and the sky is clear. Suppose we make a
-long watch.”
-
-Dr. Sneyd was only too happy. He produced a light in one of his magical
-ways, and hung the shade on the lamp, while Arthur arranged his pens and
-paper, and laid his watch on the table. Dr. Sneyd took his place at the
-best telescope now in readiness, after various screwings and
-unscrewings, and shiftings of the moveable boards. Arthur meanwhile was
-cutting a pencil, with which he invited Temmy to draw beside him. Uncle
-Arthur thought Temmy would draw very well if he chose. In a little while
-nothing was to be heard but the brief directions of Dr. Sneyd to his
-secretary, and the ticking of the watch on the table.
-
-Temmy was fast asleep, with his head resting on his drawing, when he was
-called from below, to go home.
-
-“Just see him down the ladder,” said Dr. Sneyd.
-
-“No, thank you, grandpapa; I can always get down.” In truth, Temmy
-always went down much more quickly than he came up.
-
-The next time a cloud came in the way, Dr. Sneyd observed,
-
-"Temple is ruining that boy. He will leave him no nerve,—no sense. What
-will his many thousand acres be worth to him without?"
-
-“Do you think he will ever have those many thousand acres, sir?”
-
-“I almost wish he may not. Perhaps his best chance would be in his being
-left to manage for himself in some such way as you have done, Arthur.
-Such a call on his energies would be the best thing for him, if it did
-not come too late.”
-
-Arthur had a strong persuasion that it might come at any time. He was by
-no means satisfied that the many thousand acres were still Temple’s. He
-was very sure that much of the gentleman’s wealth must have evaporated
-during his incessant transmutations of meadows into pleasure-grounds,
-and flower-gardens into shrubberies, and hot-houses into baths, and
-stables into picturesque cottages, and cottages into stables again. He
-was seldom seen three times on the same horse; and it was certain that
-the money he had locked up in land would never be productive while he
-remained its owner. Who would come and settle under such a proprietor,
-when land as good, and liberty to boot, was to be had elsewhere? Temple
-himself was contracting his cultivation every year. The more he laid out
-unproductively, the less remained to be employed productively. If Arthur
-had had one-tenth part of what Temple had wasted since he settled at
-Briery Creek, his days of anxiety and excessive toil might have been
-over long ago.
-
-“It is all for the best, Arthur. You would not have been happy in the
-possession of Temple’s money, subject to his caprices, poor man! Nobody
-is more easy than I am under pecuniary obligation; but all depends on
-the quarter whence it comes, and the purposes for which the assistance
-is designed. I accepted this observatory from you, you remember, when I
-knew that it cost you something to give up your time and labour to it;
-and I dare say I should have accepted the same thing from Temple, if he
-had happened to offer it, because, in such a case, the good of science
-could be the only object. But, if I were you, I would rather work my own
-way up in the world than connect myself with such a man as Temple. The
-first time he wanted something to fidget himself about, he would be for
-calling out of your hands all he had lent you.”
-
-“One would almost bear such a risk,” said Arthur, “for the sake of the
-settlement. My poor sister makes the best of matters by talking
-everywhere of the quantity of labour her husband employs. But I think
-she must see that that employment must soon come to an end if no returns
-issue from it. I am sure I should be glad to employ much more labour,
-and in a way which would yield a maintenance for a still greater
-quantity next year, if I had the laying out of the money Temple wastes
-on his caprices. I am not complaining, father, on my own account. My
-hardest time is over, and I shall soon be doing as well as I could wish.
-I am now thinking of the interests of the place at large. It seems too
-hard that the richest man among us should at the same time keep away new
-settlers by holding more land than he can cultivate, waste his capital,
-instead of putting it out to those who would employ it for his and the
-common good, and praise himself mightily for his liberal expenditure,
-holding the entire community obliged to him for it, every time he buys a
-new luxury which will yield no good beyond his own selfish pleasure.”
-
-“I am afraid you think the community has little to thank me for, Arthur?
-Perhaps, in our present state of affairs, the money I have ought to go
-towards tilling the ground, instead of exploring the heavens.”
-
-"My dear sir, no. I differ from you entirely. You do not live beyond
-your income, nor——"
-
-“Give your mother the credit of that, Arthur. But for her, my little
-property would have flown up to the moon long ago.”
-
-“But, father, I was going to say that what I and others here produce is
-but the means of living, after all. It would be deplorable to sacrifice
-the end to them.”
-
-“What end? Do you mean the pleasure of star-gazing? I should be
-delighted to hear that.”
-
-"Pleasure,—whether of star-gazing, or of any thing else that is innocent
-and virtuous,—that is really happiness. If Temple is really happy over
-his foreign wines, I am sure I have no more objection to his drinking
-them than to my men enjoying their cider. Let it be his end, if he is
-capable of no higher, as long as his pleasures do not consume more than
-his income. Much more may I be willing that you should enjoy your star-
-gazing, when out of the gratification to yourself arises the knowledge
-which ennobles human life, and the truth for which, if we do not live
-now, we shall assuredly live hereafter."
-
-“I have always trusted, Arthur, that the means which have been bestowed
-upon me would not prove to be lost. Otherwise, I would have taken my axe
-on my shoulder, and marched off to the forest with you.”
-
-"Father, it is for such as you that forests and prairies should be made
-to yield double, if the skill of man could ensure such fruitfulness. It
-is for such as you that the husbandman should lead forth his sons before
-the dawn, and instruct them to be happy in toiling for him whose light
-in yon high place is yet twinkling,—who has been working out God’s truth
-for men’s use while they slept."
-
-“Our husbandmen are not of the kind you speak of, Arthur. I see them
-look up as they pass, as if they thought this high chamber a folly of
-the same sort as Temple’s Chinese alcove.”
-
-“I think you mistake them, sir. I can answer for those with whom I have
-to do. They see all the difference between Temple’s restless discontent
-and your cheerfulness. They see that he has no thought beyond himself,
-while you have objects of high and serious interest ever before your
-mind’s eye; objects which, not comprehending, they can respect, because
-the issue is a manifestation of wisdom and benignity.”
-
-“Enough! enough!” cried the doctor. "I have no complaint to make of my
-neighbours, I am sure. I should be a very ungrateful man, if I fancied I
-had. I am fully aware of the general disposition of men to venerate
-science, and to afford large aid to those who pursue it, on a principle
-of faith in its results. My belief in this is not at all shaken by what
-befel me in England; but, as I have appeared here accidentally,—a
-philosopher suddenly lighting in an infant community instead of having
-grown up out of it, it was fair to doubt the light in which I am
-regarded. If the people hated me as a magician, or despised me as an
-idle man, I think it would be no wonder."
-
-“I am glad you hold your faith, father, in the natural veneration of
-society for the great ends of human life. I believe it must be a strong
-influence, indeed, which can poison men’s minds against their
-legislators, and philosophers, and other wise men who neither dig nor
-manufacture. I believe it must be such a silver tongue as never yet
-spoke that could persuade any nation that its philosophers are not its
-best benefactors.”
-
-"True. It was not the English nation that drove me hither; and those who
-did it never complained of my pursuits,—only of what they supposed my
-principles. I wish I could bear all the sorrow of the mistake."
-
-“Be satisfied to let them bear some of it, father. It will help to guard
-them against a repetition of it. I am sure your own share is enough.”
-
-"In one sense it is, Arthur. Do you know, I find myself somewhat
-changed. I perceive it when I settle myself down to my pursuits; and to
-a greater extent than I anticipated. It may be owing in part to the want
-of the facilities I had enjoyed for so many years, and never thought to
-part with more. I sometimes wonder whether I should be the same man
-again at home, among——But let all that pass. What I was thinking of, and
-what your mother and I oftenest think of, is the hardship of your having
-to bear a part,—so large a part in our misfortune. I should wonder to
-see you toiling as you do, from month to month,—(for I know that wealth
-is no great object with you,)—if I did not suspect——But I beg your
-pardon. I have no right to force your confidence."
-
-“Go on, father.”
-
-“Well, to say the truth, I suspect that you left something more behind
-you than you gave us reason to suppose. If you had not come of your own
-free choice, this idea would have made both your mother and me very
-unhappy.”
-
-“I have hopes that she will come, father. I have been waiting to tell
-you, only for a prospect of the time when I might go for her. Nothing is
-settled, or I would have told you long ago; but I have hopes.”
-
-Dr. Sneyd was so long silent, thinking how easily the use of some of
-Temple’s wasted money would have completed Arthur’s happiness ere
-this,—benefiting Temple and the whole community at the same time,—that
-his son feared he was disappointed. He had no apprehension of his being
-displeased at any part of his conduct.
-
-“I hoped the prospect would have given you pleasure, father,” he said,
-in a tone of deep mortification.
-
-"My dear son, so it does—the greatest satisfaction, I assure you;
-though, indeed, I do not know how you were to become aware of it without
-my telling you. I know my wife’s opinion of her to be the same as my
-own. I only hope she will be to you all that may repay you for what you
-have been to us: indeed, I have no doubt of it."
-
-Arthur was perfectly happy; happy enough to observe that the clouds were
-parting, and that,—as science had been so lately pronounced the great
-end for which his father was living,—it was a pity his observations
-should not be renewed.
-
-“If science be the great object we think it,” observed the doctor the
-next time he was obliged to suspend his labours, “it seems strange that
-it should be pursued by so few. At present, for one who devotes himself
-to the end, thousands look not beyond the mere means of living. I am not
-afraid to call it the end to you, though I would not have done so in my
-pulpit this morning without explanation. We understand one another.”
-
-"Perfectly; that since the full recognition of truth is virtue, science
-is the true end. I hope, I believe, I discern the method by which more
-and more labour will be withdrawn from the means to be transferred to
-the end. For a long time past,—ever since I have been in the habit of
-comparing you and your pursuits with the people about you and their
-pursuits—ever since I came here,—I have been arriving at my present
-conviction, that every circumstance of our social condition,—the most
-trifling worldly interest of the meanest of us,—bears its relation to
-this great issue, and aids the force of tendency towards it."
-
-“You have come hither for something worth gaining, then: it is worth
-while to cross land and sea for such a conviction. Can I aid you with
-confirmation from the stars?”
-
-"No doubt; for all knowledge, come whence it may,—from incalculable
-heights or unfathomable depths,—all new knowledge of the forces of
-nature affords the means of setting free a quantity of human labour to
-be turned to new purposes. In the infancy of the race, the mind had no
-instruments but the unassisted hands. By degrees, the aid of other
-natural forces was called in; by degrees, those forces have been
-overruled to more and more extended purposes, and further powers brought
-into subjection, setting free, at every new stage of acquisition, an
-immense proportion of human labour, and affording a glimpse,—almost too
-bright to be met by our yet feeble vision,—of times when material
-production—the means of living, shall be turned over to the machinery of
-nature, only superintended by man, whose life may then be devoted to
-science, ‘worthy of the name,’ which may, in its turn, have then become
-the means to some yet higher end than is at present within our ken."
-
-“In those days, then, instead of half-a-dozen labourers being virtuously
-employed in production for themselves and one unproductive philosopher,
-the six labourers will themselves have become philosophers, supported
-and cherished by the forces of nature, controlled by the intellect of
-perhaps one productive labourer.”
-
-“Just so; the original philosopher being the cause of this easy
-production by his ascertainment of the natural forces in question. This
-result is merely the protraction of the process which has been going on
-from the earliest infancy of the race. If Noah, in his first moonlight
-walk upon Ararat, could have seen mirrored in the watery waste the long
-procession of gigantic powers which time should lead forth to pass under
-the yoke of man, would he not have decided (in his blindness to the new
-future of man) that nothing would be left for man to do?”
-
-“Probably. And in order to exhibit to him the whole case, he must be
-carried forward to man’s new point of view.”
-
-“And so it will be with some second Noah, whose happier lot it shall be
-to see knowledge cover the earth, bearing on its bosom all that is
-worthy of the new heavens and new earth; while all that is unworthy of
-them is sunk and lost. By the agency of his gigantic servants he may be
-raised to that pinnacle of the universe whence he may choose to look
-forth again, and see what new services are appointed to man, and who are
-the guides and guardians allotted to his higher state.”
-
-"And what will he behold?——But it is foolish to inquire. One must be
-there to know."
-
-"To know fully. But though we can but barely speculate upon what he will
-see, we may decidedly pronounce upon what he will not see. We cannot
-tell how many galaxies will be perceived to complete the circle of
-Nature’s crown, nor what echoes of her diapason shall be wafted to the
-intent spirit. We cannot tell how near he may be permitted to approach
-to behold the evolution of a truth from apparent nothingness, as we are
-apt to fancy a seraph watches the creation of one of yonder worlds—first
-distinguishing the dim apparition of an orb emerging from the vacuum,
-then seeing it moulded into order, and animated with warmth, and
-invested with light, till myriads of adorers are attracted to behold it
-sent forth by the hand of silence on its everlasting way. We cannot tell
-to what depth man may then safely plunge, to repose in the sea-caves,
-and listen to the new tale that its thunders interpret, and collect
-around him the tributaries of knowledge that come thronging down the
-green vistas of ocean light. We cannot tell what way will be opened
-before him to the dim chambers of the earth, where Patience presides,
-while her slow and blind agents work in dumb concert from age to age,
-till, the hour being come, the spirit of the volcano, or the angel of
-the deluge, arrives to burst their prison-house. Of all these things we
-can yet have but a faint conception; but of some things which will not
-be we can speak with certainty."
-
-“That when these inanimate powers are found to be our best servants, the
-immortal mind of man will be released from the drudgery which may be
-better performed by them. Then, never more will the precious term of
-human life be spent in a single manual operation; never more will the
-elastic limbs of children grow rigid under one uniform and excessive
-exercise; never more will the spirit sit, self-gnawing, in the fetters
-to which it has been condemned by the tyranny of ignorance, which must
-have its gratifications. Then bellows may breathe in the tainted streams
-of our factories, and human lungs be spared, and men’s dwellings be
-filled with luxuries, and no husbandman be reduced from his sovereignty
-of reason to a similitude with the cattle of his pastures. But much
-labour has already been set free by the employment of the agency of
-nature; and how little has been given to science!”
-
-“It seems as if there must ever be an intermediate state between the
-discovery of an instrument and its application to its final use. I am
-far from complaining, as you know, of the nature of human demands being
-what it has been, as, from time to time, liberated industry has afforded
-a new supply. I am far from complaining that new graces have grown up
-within the domains of the rich, and that new notions of convenience
-require a larger satisfaction day by day. Even when I perceive that a
-hundred heads and hands are necessary to the furnishing forth of a
-gentleman’s equipage, and that the wardrobe of a lady must consist of,
-at least, a hundred and sixty articles, I am far from wishing that the
-world should be set back to a period when men produced nothing but what
-was undeniably essential.”
-
-“You would rather lead it on to the time when consumption will not be
-stimulated as it is at present?”
-
-"When it shall be of a somewhat different kind. A perpetual stimulus
-seems to me to be provided for by labour being more and more set at
-liberty, since all the fruits of labour constitute at once the demand
-and the supply. But the desires and tastes which have grown up under a
-superabundance of labour and a dearth of science are not those which may
-be looked for when new science (which is as much the effect as the cause
-of new methods of production) shall have opened fresh worlds to human
-tastes. The spread of luxury, whether it be pronounced a good or an
-evil, is, I conceive, of limited duration. It has served, and it still
-serves, to employ a part of the race and amuse another part, while the
-transition is being made from one kind of simplicity to another,—from
-animal simplicity to intellectual simplicity."
-
-“The mechanism of society thus resembles the mechanism of man’s art.
-What was done as a simple operation by the human arm, is effected as a
-complicated operation by instruments of wood and steel. But the time
-surely comes when this complexity is reduced, and the brute instrument
-is brought into a closer and a still closer analogy with the original
-human mechanism. The more advanced the art, the simpler the mechanism.”
-
-"Just so. If, in respect of our household furniture, equal purposes of
-convenience are found to be answered by a smaller variety of articles,
-the industry which is thus released will be free to turn to the fine
-arts,—to the multiplication of objects which embody truth and set forth
-beauty,—objects which cannot be too extensively multiplied. If our
-ladies, at the same time, discover that equal grace and more convenience
-are attained by a simpler costume, a more than classical simplicity will
-prevail, and the toil of operatives will be transferred to some higher
-species of production."
-
-“We should lose no time, then, in making a list of the present
-essentials of a lady’s wardrobe, to be preserved among the records of
-the race. Isaiah has presented one, which exhibits the maidens of Judea
-in their days of wealth. But I believe they are transcended by the
-damsels of Britain.”
-
-"I am sure the British ladies transcend the Jewish in their method of
-justifying their luxury. The Jewesses were satisfied that they enjoyed
-luxury, and looked no farther. The modern ladies extol it as a social
-virtue,—except the few who denounce the very enjoyment of it as a crime.
-How long will the two parties go on disputing whether luxury be a virtue
-or a crime?"
-
-“Till they cease to float themselves on the surface of morals on the
-support of old maxims of morality; till they look with their own eyes
-into the evidence of circumstance, and learn to make an induction for
-themselves. They will see that each side of the question has its right
-and its wrong; that there is no harm, but much good in enjoyment,
-regarded by itself; and that there is no good, but much harm in causing
-toil which tends to the extinction of enjoyment.”
-
-“In other words, that Dr. B’s pleasure in his picture gallery is a
-virtuous pleasure while he spends upon it only what he can well spare;
-and that Temple’s hot-houses are a vicious luxury, if, as we suspect, he
-is expending upon them the capital on which he has taught his labourers
-to depend as a subsistence fund.”
-
-“Exactly; and that the milk-maid may virtuously be married in the silk
-gown which her bridegroom thinks becoming, provided it is purchased with
-her surplus earnings; while an empress has no business with a yard of
-ribbon if she buys it after having parted with the last shilling of her
-revenue at the gaming-table. Silk is beautiful. If this were all, let
-every body wear silk; but if the consequence of procuring silk be more
-pain to somebody than the wearing of silk gives pleasure, it becomes a
-sin to wear silk. A thriving London tradesman may thus innocently dress
-his wife and nine daughters in Genoa velvet, while the spendthrift
-nobleman may do a guilty deed in arraying himself in a new fashion of
-silk hose.”
-
-"Our countrywomen may be expected to defend all luxurious expenditure as
-a virtue, while their countrymen,—the greyheaded as well as youths,—are
-overheard extolling a war expenditure as a public good. Both proceed on
-the notion that benefit resides in mere consumption, instead of in the
-reproduction or in the enjoyment which results; that toil is the good
-itself, instead of the condition of the good, without which toil is an
-evil."
-
-“If war can be defended as a mode of expenditure by any but gunsmiths
-and army clothiers, there is no saying what curse we may not next find
-out to be a blessing. Of all kinds of unproductive consumption, that
-occasioned by war is the very worst. Life, and the means of life, are
-there extinguished together, and one might as well try to cause the
-resurrection of a slain army on the field of battle, as hope for any
-return to the toil of the labourers who equipped them for the strife.
-The sweat of the artisan falls as fruitless as the tears of the widow
-and orphan. For every man that dies of his wounds abroad, there is
-another that pines in hunger at home. The hero of to-day may fancy his
-laurels easily won; but he ought to know that his descendants of the
-hundredth generation will not have been able to pay the last farthing of
-their purchase-money.”
-
-"And this is paid, not so much out of the luxuries of the rich as the
-necessaries of the poor. It is not so much one kind of unproductive
-consumption being exchanged for another as a productive consumption
-being stinted for the sake of an unproductive. The rich may contribute
-some of their revenue to the support of a war, but the middling classes
-give,—some a portion of their capital, and others the revenue of which
-they would otherwise make capital,—so that even if the debts of a war
-were not carried forward to a future age, the evil consequences of an
-abstraction of capital are."
-
-"It appears, however, as if unproductive consumption was much lessened
-at home during a war. One may see the difference in the very aspect of
-the streets in London, and yet more in the columns of newspapers.
-Puffing declines as soon as a war breaks out,—not that puffing is a sign
-of any thing but a glut of the article puffed,—but this decline of
-puffing signifies rather a cessation of the production of the community
-than such a large demand as needs no stimulating."
-
-"Yes; one may now see in London fire-arms or scarlet cloth exhibited at
-the windows of an establishment where, during the peace, might be found
-‘the acmè of paper-hanging;’ and where might formerly be had floor-cloth
-of a marvellous number of yards without seam, whose praises were
-blazoned in large letters from the roof to the ground, ball cartridges
-are piled, and gunpowder stands guarded, day and night. Since gluts work
-their own cure, and puffing comes of gluts, puffing is only a temporary
-absurdity. Long may it be before we are afflicted with it here!"
-
-"Afflicted?—Well! looked at by itself, perhaps it is an affliction, as
-all violations of truth, all exhibitions of folly, are; but one may draw
-pleasure too from every thing which is a sign of the times."
-
-“O, yes; there is not only the strong present pleasure of philosophising
-on states of society, but every indication of what it serves to the
-thinker, at the same time, as a prophecy of better things that shall be.
-But, do you not find it pleasanter to go to worship, as we went this
-morning, through green pastures and by still waters, where human
-industry made its appeals to us in eloquent silence, and men’s dwellings
-bore entire the aspect of sabbath repose, than to pass through paved
-streets, with a horizon of brick-walls, and tokens on every side, not
-only of week day labour, but of struggle for subsistence, and
-subservience for bread? The London shopkeepers do not remove their signs
-on a Sunday. If one catches a glimpse here and there of a spectacled old
-gentleman reading his Bible in the first-floor parlour, or meets a train
-of spruce children issuing from their father’s door at the sound of the
-church-bell, one sees, at the same time, that their business is to push
-the sale of floor-cloth without seam, and to boast of the acmè of paper-
-hanging.”
-
-"There may be more immediate pleasure in the one Sabbath walk than in
-the other, Arthur, but they yield, perhaps, equally the aliment of
-piety. Whatever indicates the condition of man, points out, not only the
-species of duty owing to man, but the species of homage due to God,—the
-character of the petitions appropriate to the season. All the methods of
-going to worship may serve the purpose of preparation for the sanctuary.
-The nobleman may lean back in his carriage to meditate; the priest may
-stalk along in reverie, unconscious of all around him; the citizen-
-father may look with pride on the train of little ones with whom he may
-spend the leisure of this day; and the observing philanthropist may go
-forth early and see a thousand incidents by the way, and all may alike
-enter the church-door with raised and softened hearts."
-
-“And all listen with equal faith to the promise of peace on earth and
-good-will to men?”
-
-“Yes, and the observer not the least, if he observe for holy purposes.”
-
-"O, father, think of the gin-shop and the news-office that he must pass
-by the way! They are infinitely worse than the visible puffery. Think of
-the thronged green-grocer’s shop, where you may see a widow in her
-soiled weeds, flushed with drink, careless of the little ones that cling
-to her gown, hungering as they are for the few potatoes which are all
-she can purchase after having had her morning dram!—Think of the father
-cheapening the refuse of the Saturday’s market, and passing on, at last,
-wondering when his pale family will again taste meat! Think of the
-insolent footmen, impeding the way to the church-door, while they amuse
-themselves with the latest record of licentiousness in the paper of the
-day!"
-
-"I have often seen all this, Arthur, and have found in it——"
-
-"Nothing that necessarily hardens the heart, I know; on the contrary,
-the compassion excited is so painful that devotion is at times the only
-refuge. But as for the congeniality——"
-
-“What is the value of faith, if it cannot assimilate all things to
-itself? And as for Christian faith, where and amidst what circumstances
-did it arise? Was it necessary, in going up to the temple, to overlook
-the blind beside the way, and to stop the ears when the contention of
-brethren was heard, and to avoid the proud Pharisee and the degraded
-publican? Was the repose of the spirit broken when an adultress entered
-the sacred precincts? Were the avenues to the temple blocked up that the
-holy might worship in peace? And when they issued forth, were they sent
-home to their closets, forbidden to look to the right hand or to the
-left for fear of defilement?”
-
-“If so, it was by order of the Pharisees. You are right, father. The
-holiest did not even find it necessary to resort to mountain solitudes,
-or to the abodes of those who were pure as themselves, for the support
-of their faith or the repose of their devotion. Aliment for piety was
-found at the table of the publican, and among the sufferers beside
-Bethesda. To the pure every emotion became a refining process, and
-whatever was not found congenial was made so. It may certainly be the
-same with the wise and the benignant of every age.”
-
-“It is indeed a halting faith which dreads as common that which God has
-cleansed and sanctified; and where is God’s own mark to be recognized
-but in the presence of joy and sorrow, of which he is the sole
-originator and distributor? Whatever bears a relation to joy and sorrow
-is a call to devotion; and no path to the sanctuary is more sacred than
-another, while there are traces of human beings by the way.”
-
-“You prefer then the pastures which tell of our prosperity to the wilds
-of the prairie; and I observed that you dwelt upon the portraits of
-familiar faces before you left your study this morning.”
-
-"I did; and many a time have I dwelt quite as earnestly on strange faces
-in which shone no friendship for me, and no consciousness of the objects
-of the day. I read in their human countenance,—human, whether it be vile
-or noble,—the promise, that as all things are for some use, and as all
-men contribute while all have need, the due distribution will in time be
-made, causes of contention be done away, and the sources of social
-misery be dried up, so that——"
-
-"So that we may, through all present dismay and vicissitude, look
-forward to ultimate peace on earth and good-will towards men. Yes, all
-things are of use to some, from the stalk of flax that waves in my field
-below, to Orion now showing himself as the black cloud draws off,—all
-for purposes of support to body or mind,—all, whether appropriated, or
-left at large because they cannot be appropriated. Let us hope that each
-will, at length, have his share; and as Providence has placed no limit
-to the enjoyment of his gifts but that of food, we may learn so to
-understand one another’s desires as mutually to satisfy them; so that
-there may not be too much of one thing to the injury of some, and too
-little of another thing, to the deprivation of more."
-
-“If we could but calculate the present uses of any one gift!” said Dr.
-Sneyd, smiling; “but this is a task for the philosophers of another age,
-or another state. I would fain know how many living beings are reposing
-or pasturing on your flax-stalk, and how much service will be rendered
-in the course of the processes it has to go through. I would fain know
-how many besides ourselves are drawing from yonder constellation
-knowledge and pleasure.”
-
-“More than there are stars in the heaven, besides the myriads that have
-their home in one or other of its worlds. What more knowledge are we to
-derive to-night?”
-
-And Arthur returned to his seat and his task, which he had quitted while
-the sky was clouded. His father observed, with surprise, how far the
-twinkling lights had travelled from their former place.
-
-“It is later than I thought, Arthur,” said he. “I ought not to have kept
-you so long from your rest, busy as your days are.”
-
-Arthur was quite disposed to go on, till sunrise, if his father wished
-to take advantage of his services. He must meet his men very early in
-the dewy morning to mow, and the night was now so far advanced that it
-would be as well to watch it out. Dr. Sneyd was very thankful for his
-aid. When they had satisfied themselves that the household were gone to
-rest, and had replenished the lamp, nothing but brief directions and the
-ticking of the watch was again heard in this upper chamber till the
-chirping of birds summoned the mower to fetch his scythe.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER V.
-
- INTRODUCTIONS.
-
-
-The true cause of Mr. Temple’s Sunday headache was spleen at the
-occurrence of the morning. That Dr. Sneyd should preach, and in a
-market-house, and that soldiers should come some miles to hear him was,
-he declared, a perfect scandal to the settlement. He could not
-countenance it.
-
-The scandal continued, without the countenance of the scrupulous
-gentleman, till the autumn, when the reason of certain magnificent
-doings at Temple Hall began to be apparent. Probably the only persons
-who could have told what all this new building meant were forbidden to
-do so, as Mrs. Sneyd could never obtain a word from her daughter in
-return for all her conjectures about what the Lodge was to grow into at
-last, the builders having no sooner done one task than they had to set
-about another. There was infinite hurry and bustle about these last
-additions. Workmen were brought from a distance to relieve those on the
-spot, that no part of the long summer days might be lost. Wall rose
-above wall; beam followed beam from the forest, and planks issued from
-the sawpit with marvellous speed. One would have thought the President
-was expected on a visit before winter; and, in fact, a rumour was
-current in the village that some new capitalists were coming to look
-about them, and were to be tempted to abide on some of the great man’s
-lands. This seemed the more probable as a substantial house was being
-built in the Lodge grounds, besides the new wing (as it appeared to be)
-of the mansion itself. Every body agreed that this house must be
-intended for somebody.
-
-The truth burst forth, one day late in the autumn, that seats instead of
-partitions were being put up in the new building, and that the windows
-were to be unlike those of the rest of the house:—in short, that it was
-to be a chapel. The servants spread abroad the fact that company was
-expected in a few days; to stay, they believed, all the winter.—Ay! till
-the new house should be ready, every body supposed. Meantime, Mrs.
-Temple said nothing more to her family than that friends of Mr. Temple’s
-were shortly coming to stay at the Lodge. She had never seen them, and
-knew but little about them:—hoped they might prove an acquisition to her
-father:—depended upon Arthur’s civilities, if he should have it in his
-power,—and so forth.
-
-It was seldom that Mr. Temple called on his father-in-law,—especially in
-the middle of the day, when less irksome things could be found to do;
-but, one bright noon, he was perceived approaching the house, driving
-the barouche, in which were seated two ladies and a gentleman, besides
-the heir of Temple Lodge. Dr. Sneyd stepped out of his low window into
-the garden, and met them near the gate, where he was introduced to the
-Rev. Ralph Hesselden, pastor of Briery Creek, and Mrs. Hesselden.
-
-The picturesque clergyman and his showy lady testified all outward
-respect to the venerable old man before them. They forgot for a moment
-what they had been told of his politics being "sad, very sad; quite
-deplorable,"—and remembered only that he was the father of their
-hostess. It was not till a full half hour after that they became duly
-shocked at a man of his powers having been given over to the delusions
-of human reason, and at his profaneness in having dared to set up for a
-guide to others while he was himself blinded in the darkness of error.
-There was so little that told of delusion in the calm simplicity of the
-doctor’s countenance, and something so unlike profaneness and
-presumption in his mild and serious manners, that it was not surprising
-that his guests were so long in discovering the evil that was in him.
-
-Mrs. Sneyd was busy about a task into which she put no small share of
-her energies. She had heard that nothing that could be eaten was half so
-good as pomegranate preserve, well made. In concert with Arthur, she had
-grown pomegranates with great success, and she was this morning engaged
-in preserving them; using her utmost skill, in the hope that if it
-should prove an impossible thing to make her husband care for one
-preserve rather than another while he was in health, this might be an
-acceptable refreshment in case of sickness; or that, at least, Temmy
-would relish the luxury; and possibly Temple himself be soothed by it in
-one of the fits of spleen with which he was apt to cloud the morning
-meal.—The mess was stewing, and the lady sipping and stirring, when her
-husband came to tell her who had arrived, and to request her to
-appear;—came instead of sending, to give her the opportunity of removing
-all traces of mortification before she entered the room.
-
-"Mr. and Mrs. Who?—a pastor? what, a methodist?—chaplain at the Lodge,
-and pastor of Briery Creek?—My dear, this is aimed at you."
-
-"One can hardly say that, as I only preached because there was no one
-else.—I must not stay. You will come directly, my dear."
-
-"I do not see how I can, my dear,"—glancing from her husband to her
-stewpan, under a sense of outraged affection with respect to both of
-them. “To take one so by surprise! I am sure it was done on purpose,”
-
-“Then let us carry it off with as little consternation as we can. Peggy
-will take your place.”
-
-"And spoil all I have been doing, I know. And my face is so scorched, I
-am not fit to be seen.—I’ll tell you what, my dear," she went on,
-surrendering her long spoon to Peggy, and whisking off her apron,—“if I
-appear now, I will not go and hear this man preach. I cannot be expected
-to do that.”
-
-“We will see about that when Sunday comes,” the doctor turned back to
-say, as he hastened back to the party who were amusing themselves with
-admiring the early drawings of Mrs. Temple, which hung against the walls
-of her mother’s parlour. The doctor brought in with him a literary
-journal of a later date than any which had arrived at the Lodge, and no
-one suspected that he had been ministering to his wife’s good manners.
-Mrs. Temple was in pain for what might follow the introduction.
-
-There was no occasion for her inward tremors, nor for Dr. Sneyd’s quick
-glance at his wife over his spectacles. Mrs. Sneyd might be fully
-trusted to preserve her husband’s dignity. She instantly appeared,—so
-courteous and self-possessed that no one could have perceived that she
-had been hurried. The scorched cheeks passed with the strangers for the
-ruddy health attendant on a country life, and they benevolently rejoiced
-that she seemed likely to have some time before her yet, in which to
-retract her heresies, and repent of all that she had believed and acted
-upon through life. It was cheering to think of the safety that might
-await her, if she should happily survive the doctor, and come under
-their immediate guidance.
-
-The ladies were left to themselves while Temple was grimacing (as he did
-in certain states of nervousness) and whipping the shining toe of his
-right boot, and the other gentleman making the plunge into science and
-literature in which the doctor always led the way when he could lay hold
-of a man of education. One shade of disappointment after another passed
-over his countenance when he was met with questions whether one
-philosopher was not pursuing his researches into regions whence many had
-returned infidels,—with conjectures whether an eminent patriot was not
-living without God in the world,—and with doubts whether a venerable
-philanthropist might still be confided in, since he had gone hand in
-hand in a good work with a man of doubtful seriousness. At last, his
-patience seemed to be put to the proof, for his daughter heard him say,
-
-“Well, sir, as neither you nor I are infidels, nor likely to become so,
-suppose we let that matter pass. Our part is with the good tidings of
-great deeds doing on the other side of the world. The faith of the doers
-is between themselves and their God.”
-
-"But, sir, consider the value of a lost soul—"
-
-“I have so much hope of many souls being saved by every measure of wise
-policy and true philanthropy, that I cannot mar my satisfaction by
-groundless doubts of the safety of the movers. Let us take advantage of
-the permission to judge them by their fruits, and then, it seems to me,
-we may make ourselves very easy respecting them. Can you satisfy me
-about this new method,—it is of immense importance,—of grinding
-lenses——”
-
-Mr. Hesselden could scarcely listen further, so shocked was he with the
-doctor’s levity and laxity in being eager about bringing new worlds
-within human ken, while there seemed to the pious a doubt whether the
-agents of divine wisdom and benignity would be cared for by him who sent
-them.—Mr. Hesselden solemnly elevated his eyebrows, as he looked towards
-his wife; and the glance took effect. The lady began inquiring of Mrs.
-Sneyd respecting the spiritual affairs of the settlement. She hoped the
-population had a serious turn.
-
-“Why, Madam,” replied Mrs. Sneyd, “every thing has so conduced to sober
-the minds of our neighbours, that there has been little room yet for
-frivolity among us. The circumstances of hardship, of one kind or
-another, that led us all from our old homes were very serious; and it is
-a serious matter to quit country and family and friends; and the first
-casting about for subsistence in a new land is enough to bring thought
-into the wildest brain; and now, when we have gathered many comforts
-about us, and can thank Providence with full hearts, we are not at
-liberty for idleness and levity. I assure you that Dr. Sneyd has had to
-enlarge more against anxiety for the morrow than against carelessness or
-vain-glory.”
-
-“I rejoice to hear it. This is good as far as it goes. But I was
-inquiring about more important affairs.”
-
-"In more important matters still, I hope you will find much that is
-encouraging. We are naturally free from the vices of extreme wealth or
-poverty. Among the few whose labours have proved fruitful, there is a
-sobriety of manners which I think will please you; and none are so poor
-as to be tempted to dishonesty, or driven into recklessness. The cry of
-‘stop thief’ has never been heard in Briery Creek, and you will neither
-meet a drunken man nor a damsel dressed in tawdry finery.—By the way,
-Louisa," she continued, addressing her daughter, “I am sorry there is
-any difficulty about Rundell’s getting more land, and Chapman’s setting
-up a general store. I have some fears that as our neighbours’ earnings
-increase, we may see them spent in idle luxuries, unless there is a
-facility in making a profitable investment.”
-
-“Where is the difficulty, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Temple. “If Rundell wants
-land, I rather think Mr. Temple has plenty for him.”
-
-“I understand not.”
-
-Mrs. Temple was about to argue the matter on the ground of her husband’s
-thousands of uncultivated acres, but recollecting that there might be
-more in the matter than was apparent to her, she stopped short, and
-there was a pause.—At length, Mrs. Hesselden, turning the fullest aspect
-of her enormous white chip bonnet on Mrs. Sneyd, supposed that as the
-neighbourhood was so very moral, there were no public amusements in
-Briery Creek.
-
-“I am sorry to say there are none at present. Dr. Sneyd and my son
-begin, next week, a humble attempt at a place of evening resort; and now
-that Mr. Hesselden will be here to assist them, I hope our people will
-soon be provided with a sufficiency of harmless amusement.”
-
-"You begin next week?—A prayer meeting?" asked the lady, turning to Mrs.
-Temple. Mrs. Temple believed not.
-
-“We _have_ our meetings for intercourse on the subjects you refer to,”
-replied Mrs. Sneyd; “but I understood you to be inquiring about places
-of amusement. My son presented the settlement with a cricket ground
-lately.”
-
-“A cricket ground, was it?” said Mrs. Temple. “I thought it had been a
-bleaching ground. I understood it was the ladies of the place who were
-to be the better for his bounty.”
-
-"That is true also. The same ground serves the washers on the Monday
-morning, and the cricketers on the Saturday afternoon. You must know,
-Mrs Hesselden, there is much trouble here in getting soap enough,—and
-also candles,—for the purposes of all. There is some objection, I find,
-to a general store being set up; so that only the richer of our
-neighbours can obtain a regular supply of certain necessary articles;
-and the poorer ones are just those who find it most expensive and
-troublesome to make all the soap and candles they want. My son, knowing
-how much consumption is saved by association, as he says, had a view to
-these poorer settlers in opening the bleaching ground. They are truly
-glad to get their linen washed twice as well in the field as at home,
-and at half the expense of soap. They are very willing to clear the
-place for the cricketers three afternoons in the week; and are already
-beginning to pay off the cost incurred for the shed, with the boilers
-and troughs. I really hardly know which is the prettiest sight,—the
-games of the active young men, when they forget the worldly calculations
-which are apt to engross new settlers too much,—or the merry maidens in
-the field at noon, spreading out linen and blankets of a whiteness that
-would be envied by most of the professional laundresses that I have
-known."
-
-“All these things,” observed Mrs. Hesselden, "are of inferior
-consequence. I mean——"
-
-"Very true: I mention them chiefly as signs of the times—not as the
-limit to which our improvements have extended. We are anxious to provide
-a reading-room for the youths, at the same time that we open our school.
-My daughter has no doubt told you about the school which she is helping
-to form. We find that the newspapers and journals which were always
-deposited in the cricket-ground were so much relished by the players in
-the intervals of their games, that Dr. Sneyd and my son have determined
-to light up and warm the school-house every evening during the winter,
-to be the resort of all who choose to go. Dr. Sneyd carries there the
-humble beginning of a museum of natural history, which it must be the
-care of our neighbours to improve. They can easily do so by exchanging
-the productions of our forest and prairie for what may be obtained from
-the societies Dr. Sneyd is connected with in England and France. All the
-publications sent to us will find their way to the school-house; and
-when the snow comes to enable a sleigh to bring us the packages of glass
-we have been waiting for these eight months, the doctor will erect his
-large telescope, and send an inferior one down to the village for the
-use of his star-gazing neighbours."
-
-Observing Mrs. Hesselden’s supercilious silence, Mrs. Sneyd proceeded,
-smiling,
-
-"I have had my share in the ordering of the affair, and have carried two
-points, _nem. con._ The women are allowed as free ingress as their
-husbands and brothers. I mentioned that candles were scarce, and you do
-not need to be told that much sewing must be done in our households. By
-bringing their work to the school-house, (which is within a stone’s
-throw of most of the doors,) many of our hard-working mothers and
-daughters will be spared the trouble and expense of making above half as
-many candles as if each must have one burning during the whole of the
-long evenings of winter. What is more important,—they will share the
-benefit of the reading and other amusements that may be going on. My
-other point is the dancing. I told Dr. Sneyd that if he carried a
-telescope, and made them chill themselves with star-gazing, I must beg
-leave to carry a fiddle for them to warm their feet by when they had
-done. Two fiddlers have turned up already, and there are rumours of a
-flute-player; and I have half promised my grandchild to lead off the
-first dance, if he will persuade my son to take me for a partner."
-
-Mrs. Hesselden hoped that others would also be allowed to carry their
-points, and then there would be prayer on meeting and parting in the
-school-house. If it should be found that such an exercise was
-incompatible with the dancing part of the scheme, she trusted Mrs. Sneyd
-saw which must give way.
-
-Mrs. Sneyd would advocate no practice which was incompatible with
-religious duty. In the present case, she thought that the only
-concession required was that each exercise should have its proper
-season. None of the usual objections to dancing would hold good here,
-she continued. No shivering wretches stood without, while the rich were
-making merry. There was no inducement to extravagance, and no room for
-imprudence, and no encouragement to idleness. There was no scope for
-these vices among the working-class of Briery Creek, and dancing was to
-them (what it would be in many another place, if permitted) an innocent
-enjoyment, a preventive of much solitary self-indulgence, and a
-sweetener of many tempers. In a society whose great danger was the
-growth of a binding spirit of worldliness, social mirth was an antidote
-which no moralist would condemn, and which he would not dare to despise.
-
-Mrs. Hesselden, fearing that she could never make Mrs. Sneyd comprehend
-how much more she and her husband were than mere moralists, quitted the
-subject till she could explain to Mrs. Temple on the way home, that
-though the presence of the Sneyds had undoubtedly been of great use in
-fostering a morality which was better than nothing, yet it was evidently
-high time that more should be added, and certainly a great blessing to
-Briery Creek that her husband and she had arrived to breathe inspiration
-into the social mass which was now lying,—if not dead,—yet under the
-shadow of death.
-
-Mrs. Sneyd found time, before returning to her pomegranates, to take a
-last wondering look at the immensity of Mrs. Hesselden’s chip bonnet, as
-it floated, splendid in its variegated trimming, over the shrubs in her
-passage to the garden gate.
-
-“I can never make out,” she observed to her husband, "why so many of
-these very strict religious people dress so luxuriously as they do. Here
-is this lady,—infinitely scandalized, I perceive, at our having
-introduced dancing,—dressed after such a fashion as our maidens never
-saw before. If they begin to bedizen themselves with the money which
-might be spent profitably in increasing the means of subsistence, or
-innocently in procuring substantial comforts which are now difficult to
-be had, I shall lay the blame on Mrs. Hesselden’s bonnet. I remember
-observing that I never saw so splendid a show-room for dress as the new
-church we attended, in ——- street, the Sunday before we left London. It
-is very odd."
-
-"Not more strange, my dear, than that the Friends should addict
-themselves much to the furnishing their houses with expensive furniture,
-and their tables with more costly and various foods than other people.
-Not more strange than that Martin, the Methodist, should turn strolling
-player when he gave up his methodism; or that the Irish betake
-themselves to rebellion when stopped in their merry-makings; or that the
-English artizan takes to the gin-shop when the fiddle is prohibited in
-the public-house. Not more strange, my dear, than that the steam of your
-kettle should come out at the lid, if you stop up the spout, or than
-that——"
-
-“O, you put me in mind of my preserves! But how did you think Louisa
-looked to-day?”
-
-"Not very well. There was a something—I do not know what——"
-
-"Well, I wondered whether you would observe. It may be the contrast of
-Mrs. Hesselden’s dress that made me remark the thing so much. It really
-vexed me to see Louisa so dressed. That collar was darned like any
-stocking-heel; and how she got her bonnet ribbons dyed in this place, I
-cannot think. What can be the meaning of her being so shabby? It is so
-contrary to her taste,—unless she has taken up a new taste, for want of
-something to do."
-
-Dr. Sneyd shook his head. He knew that Temple left his lady no lack of
-something to do. Temmy had also dropped a piece of information about wax
-candles lately, which convinced the doctor that the lady at the Hall was
-now compelled to economize to the last degree in her own expenditure,
-whatever indulgence might still be afforded to her tyrant’s tastes.
-
-“_He_ looks wretchedly too,” observed Mrs. Sneyd. “Not all his
-spruceness could hide it, if he was as spruce as ever. But there is a
-change in him too. One might almost call his ensemble slovenly to-day,
-though it would be neatness itself in many another man. I believe he
-half kills himself with snuff. He did nothing but open and shut his box
-to-day. So much snuff must be very bad for a nervous man like him.”
-
-“Do you know, my dear,” said the doctor, "I have been thinking lately
-whether we are not all rather hard upon that poor man——Yes, yes, I know.
-I am not going to defend, only to excuse him a little. I am as unhappy
-as you can be about all that Louisa has to go through with him, and
-about his spoiling that poor boy for life,—doing all that can be done to
-make him a dolt. But I am sure the man suffers—suffers dreadfully."
-
-“Suffers! How?”
-
-"Nay, you need but look in his face to see whether he is a happy man or
-not; but what his ailments are, I do not pretend to say. His nerves
-torture him, I am certain——"
-
-Mrs. Sneyd insinuated speculations about indulgence in brandy, opium,
-spices, &c., and about remorse, fear, and the whole demon band of the
-passions. Dr. Sneyd’s conjecture was that Temple’s affairs were in an
-unsatisfactory condition, and that this trouble, acting on the mind of a
-coward, probably drove him to the use of sufficient stimulus to irritate
-instead of relieving him. Great allowance, he insisted, should be made
-for a man in so pitiable a state, even by the parents of his wife. This
-was so effectually admitted by the good lady, that she not only sent a
-double portion of pomegranate preserve to the Lodge, but restrained her
-anger when she heard that Rundell could not obtain liberty to invest as
-he pleased the capital he had saved, owing to Temple’s evil influence at
-the land-office; and that Arthur’s interests were wantonly injured by
-his interference. Arthur had taken great pains to secure a supply of
-fresh meat and fresh butter for the approaching winter; and besides the
-hope of profit from his fine sheep and cows, he had the assurance of the
-gratitude of his neighbours, who had grown heartily weary of salt pork
-and salt butter the winter before. But Mr. Temple now set up a grand
-salting establishment; and made it generally understood that only those
-who were prudent enough to furnish themselves with his cheap salt
-provision, rather than Mr. Sneyd’s dear mutton, should have his custom
-in the market, and his countenance at the land-office. Arthur’s first-
-slain sheep had to be eaten up by his father’s household and his own;
-and it was a piece of great forbearance in Mrs. Sneyd, when she heard
-that Arthur meant to kill no more mutton, to say only, “The poor little
-man punishes nobody so much as himself. I do not see how he can relish
-his own fresh mutton very much, while he prevents other people having
-any.”
-
-“He cannot altogether prevent that, mother,” said Arthur. "He may
-prevent mutton bearing any price in the market, and cut off my gains;
-but we may still slay a sheep now and then, for ourselves; and find
-neighbours who will quietly make such an exchange of presents as will
-take off what we cannot consume. But I wish I could see an end of this
-dictation,—this tyranny."
-
-“It does seem rather strange to have come to a land of freedom to be in
-the power of such a despot. I wonder the people do not shake him off,
-and send him to play the tyrant farther in the wilds.”
-
-“They are only waiting till his substance is all consumed, I fancy. He
-has such a hold over the investments of some, and finds so much
-employment for the labour of others, that they will submit to everything
-for a time. But his hour will come, if he does not beware.”
-
-“It may be all very well for those who have investments to take time to
-extricate their capital from his grasp,” said Mrs. Sneyd; “but as for
-the builders and gardeners he employs, I think they would be wiser if
-they carried their labour where they might depend on a more lasting
-demand for it. Anybody may see that if he spends more every year in
-undoing what he did the year before, his substance must soon come to an
-end, and his labourers become his creditors. If I were they, I would
-rather go and build barns that are paid for by the preservation of the
-corn that is in them, and till fields that will maintain the labour of
-tillage, and set more to work next year, than turn round a fine house
-from south to west, and from west to south, and change shrubberies into
-lawns, and lawns into flower-gardens, knowing that such waste must come
-to an end.”
-
-“But some do not believe that it is waste, mother. They see the money
-that pays them still in existence, still going the round of the market;
-and they talk (as some people in England do about royal palaces, and
-spendthrift noblemen’s establishments) of the blessing of a liberal
-expenditure, and the patriotism of employing so much labour.”
-
-"Which would be all very well if the labourers lived upon the sight of
-the money they are paid with. But, as long as that money is changed many
-times over for bread and clothing, which all disappears in the process,
-it is difficult to make out that anything is gained but the
-pleasure,—which may be justifiable or not, according to the
-circumstances of the employers. In the end, the money remains as it was
-before, and instead of so much food and clothing, there is a royal
-palace. If you do not like your palace, and pull it down and rebuild it,
-the money exists as before, and for a double quantity of food and
-clothing, you still have a palace."
-
-“The wrong notion you speak of arises partly,” said Dr. Sneyd, “from a
-confusion between one sort of unproductive expenditure and another.
-People hear of its being a fine thing to employ a crowd of labourers in
-making a new line of road, or building a bridge, and they immediately
-suppose it must be a patriotic thing to employ a crowd of labourers in
-building any thing.”
-
-“I think they might perceive that, though corn does not grow on a high
-road, nor bridges yield manufactures, the value of corn lands may be
-doubled by opening a way to a new market, and that an unused water power
-may begin to yield wealth from the moment that there is a bridge over
-which buyers may come for it. It is a misfortune to Briery Creek that
-Temple is more of a selfish palace-fancier than a patriotic bridge and
-road maker.”
-
-The first Sunday of the opening of the chapel, Temple appeared in a
-character which he had only once before attempted to support. On the
-occasion of using the market-house for service, he had approached the
-door, cast a glance within upon the company of soldiers, and the village
-population at their worship, while their aged friend was leading their
-devotions, and hastily departed, thankful that he was too pious to join
-in such a service as this. He took the part of a religious man that day,
-and now was the time for him to resume the character. Under the idea
-that the market-house might be opened as usual for Dr. Sneyd, making his
-own appear like an opposition place of worship, he spared no pains to
-secure a majority in point of audience. He had managed to ride past the
-military post, and be gracious with the soldiers. His domestics puffed
-the chapel and chaplain at market, the day before, and the leading
-villagers received intimations of good sittings being appropriated to
-them. These pains might have been spared. All who desired might know
-that Dr. Sneyd, his wife, son, and servants intended to be present, as a
-matter of course.
-
-When they entered, Temple looked nearly as much surprised as if they had
-at the moment arrived from England. He made a prodigious bustle about
-having them accommodated in a seat next his own, and condescendingly
-sent them books, and inquired into the sufficiency of hassocks. During
-the greater part of the service he stood up, as if he could not listen
-with sufficient attention while sitting, like other people. Yet he
-cleared his throat if any body moved, and sent his pert glance into
-every corner to command a reverential demeanour, while his chaplain was
-enforcing, as the prime glory and charm of a place of worship, that
-there, and there alone, all are equal and all are free. Little Ephraim
-cowered behind the coachman while the preacher insisted that here the
-humblest slave might stand erect on the ground of his humanity; and the
-butler stepped on tiptoe half way down the aisle to huff Jenkins the
-ditcher for coming so high up, at the very moment that something was
-quoted about a gold ring and purple raiment in the synagogue.
-
-It was true the preacher and his message had not so good a chance of
-being attended to as they might have on future Sundays. The bustle
-produced by the anticipation of the occasion did not subside on the
-arrival of the occasion. The fine large chip bonnets had been procured,
-and the trimming and sending them home had been achieved by the Saturday
-night. But it remained to wear them for the first time: not only to
-support the consciousness of a new piece of finery, but to compare the
-fine bonnets with the shabby head-gear of other people, with each other,
-and, finally, with Mrs. Hesselden’s. Then, while Mrs. Dods was thus
-contemplating the effect of her own peculiar species of architecture,
-her husband could not but look round him, and remember that every
-individual brick of this pile had been fashioned by himself and his
-lads. The builder scanned the measurements of the windows and the
-ceiling. Two or three boys and girls shuffled their feet on the matting
-which their mother had woven. A trader from the north gradually made up
-his mind to approach the ladies after service, for the purpose of
-recommending fur pouches for the feet during the severe season that was
-approaching. The Brawnees, unincumbered by any thing beyond their
-working-day apparel, were among the best listeners. Temmy was so alarmed
-at the prospect of having to give his father, for the first time, an
-account of the sermon, that he could not have taken in a word of it,
-even if he had not been miserable at seeing the tears coursing one
-another down his mother’s cheeks during the whole time of the service.
-Her left hand hung by her side, but he did not dare to touch it. He
-looked at Mrs. Hesselden to try to find out whether she thought his
-mother was ill; or whether the sermon was affecting; or whether this was
-the consequence of something that had been said at breakfast against
-grandpapa. Grandpapa seemed to be listening very serenely to the sermon,
-and that was a better comfort than Mrs. Hesselden’s countenance,—so
-grave, that Temmy feared to provoke a cross word if he looked at her
-again.
-
-It was not known, till the ladies of the village ranged themselves round
-the work-table in the school-house, one chilly evening, soon afterwards,
-how great had been the bustle of preparation before the fine chip
-bonnets made their appearance in the chapel. All hearts, even those of
-rival milliners, were laid open by the sight of the roaring wood fire,
-the superior candles, the hearty welcome, and the smiling company that
-awaited them as they dropped in at the place of entertainment,—the women
-with their sewing apparatus, and their husbands and brothers ready for
-whatever occupation might have been devised for their leisure evening
-hours. While these latter crowded round the little library, to see of
-what it consisted, the sewers placed their benches round the deal table,
-snuffed their candles, and opened their bundles of work. Mrs. Dods made
-no mystery of her task. She was cutting up a large chip bonnet to make
-two small hats for her youngest boy and girl, owning that, not having
-calculated on any one else attempting to gratify the rage for imitating
-Mrs. Hesselden, she had injured her speculation by overstocking the
-market. The lawyer’s lady had been reckoned upon as a certain customer;
-but it turned out,—however true that the lawyer’s lady must have a chip
-bonnet,—that the builder’s wife had just then entered upon a rivalship
-with the brickmaker’s wife, and had stuck up at her window bonnets a
-trifle cheaper than those of Mrs. Dods. It only remained for Mrs. Dods
-to show how pretty her little folks looked in hats of the fashionable
-material, in hopes that the demand might spread to children.
-
-“If it does, Mrs. Dods, Martha Jenkins will have the same reason to
-complain of you that you have to complain of being interfered with. It
-is unknown the trouble that Jenkins has had, following the river till he
-came to the beavers, and then hunting them, and preparing their skins at
-home, and all that, while Martha spared no pains to make beaver hats for
-all the boys and girls in the place. It will be rather hard if you cut
-her out.”
-
-“And you can do it only by lowering your price ruinously,” observed Mrs.
-Sneyd. “I should think any mother in Briery Creek would rather keep her
-child’s ears from freezing by putting on her a warm beaver, than dress
-her out prettily in a light chip, at this season. Nothing but a great
-difference in price can give yours the preference, I should think, Mrs.
-Dods.”
-
-“Then such a difference there must be,” Mrs. Dods replied. “I had rather
-sell my article cheap than not sell it at all. Another time I shall take
-care how I run myself out at elbows in providing for a new fashion among
-the ladies.”
-
-Mrs. Sneyd thought that those were engaged in the safest traffic who
-dealt in articles in the commonest use,—who looked for custom chiefly
-from the lower, i.e. the larger classes of the people. From their
-numbers, those classes are always the greatest consumers; and, from the
-regularity of their productive industry, they are also the most regular
-consumers. It seemed probable that the demand for Martha Jenkins’s
-beavers would prove superior in the long run to that for Mrs. Dods’s
-varied supply, though poor Martha might suffer for a while from the glut
-of chips which occasioned loss to all sellers of bonnets, at present,
-and gain to all sellers of whatever was given in exchange for bonnets.
-Fat for candles was scarcely to be had since Temple had discouraged the
-sale of fresh meat. Mrs. Dods was deplorably in want of candles. She
-made a bargain with a neighbour for some in return for the hat now under
-her hands. How few she was to receive, it vexed her to think; but there
-was no help for it till somebody should supply the deficiency of
-candles, or till new heads should crave covering.
-
-It now appeared that the ladies were not the only persons who had
-brought their work. When it came to be decided who should be the reader,
-it was unanimously agreed that some one who had no employment for his
-hands should undertake the office. Dods had leathern mittens to make for
-the less hardy of the woodsmen. Others occupied themselves in platting
-straw, making mops, cutting pegs to be employed in roofing, and cobbling
-shoes. Arthur drew sketches for Temmy to copy. Such was always the
-pretence for Arthur’s drawings; but a neighbour who cast a peep over his
-shoulder, from time to time, could not help thinking that the sketch was
-of the present party, with Dr. Sneyd in the seat of honour by the fire-
-side, Mrs. Sneyd knitting in the shadow, that the full benefit of the
-candles might be yielded to those whose occupation required it; Isaac,
-who had received the honour of the first appointment as reader, holding
-his book rather primly, and pitching his voice in a key which seemed to
-cause a tendency to giggle among some of the least wise of his auditors;
-and, lastly, the employed listeners, as they sat in various postures,
-and in many lights, as the blaze from the logs now flickered low, and
-now leaped up to lighten all the room. Each of these was suspected to be
-destined to find a place in Arthur’s sketch.
-
-It was a pity Temmy was not here to take a drawing lesson, his uncle
-thought. These evening meetings afforded just the opportunity that was
-wanted; for Arthur could seldom find time to sit down and make his
-little nephew as good an artist as he believed he might become. It was
-not till quite late, when the party would have begun dancing if some one
-had not given a broad hint about the doctor’s telescope, that Temmy
-appeared. Nobody heard his steed approach the door, and every body
-wondered to see him. It was thought that Mr. Temple would have allowed
-no one belonging to him to mix with those whom he was pleased to call
-the common people of the place. Unguarded, the boy would indeed have
-been exposed to no such risk of contamination; but Mr. Hesselden had
-promised to be there, and it was believed that, under his wing, the boy
-would take no harm, while Mr. Temple’s object, of preserving a connexion
-with whatever passed in his neighbourhood, might be fulfilled.
-
-Mr. Hesselden was not there; and if it was desirable that Temple’s
-representative should make a dignified appearance on this new occasion,
-never was a representative more unfortunately chosen. The little fellow
-crept to his grandmamma’s side, shivering and half crying. The good lady
-observed that it was indeed very cold, chafed his hands, requested
-Rundell to throw another log or two on the fire, and comforted the boy
-with assurances that he was come in time to dance with her. Every body
-was ready with protestations that it was indeed remarkably cold. It was
-thought the beauty of the woods was nearly over for this season. In a
-few days more it was probable that the myriads of stems in the forest
-would be wholly bare, and little green but the mosses left for the eye
-to rest upon under the woven canopy of boughs. Few evergreens grew near,
-so that the forest was as remarkably gloomy in winter as it was bright
-in the season of leaves.
-
-When the window was opened, that the star-gazers might reconnoitre the
-heavens, it was found that the air was thick with snow;—snow was falling
-in a cloud.
-
-“Do but see!” cried Arthur. “No star-gazing to-night, nor dancing
-either, I fancy, if we mean to get home before it is knee-deep. Temmy,
-did it snow when you came?”
-
-“O, yes,” answered the boy, his teeth chattering at the recollection.
-
-“Why did not you tell us, my dear?” asked Mrs. Sneyd.
-
-The doctor was inwardly glad that there was so good a reason for Mr.
-Hesselden’s absence.
-
-“No wonder we did not hear the horse trot up to the door,” observed some
-one. “Come, ladies, put up your work, unless you mean to stay here till
-the next thaw.”
-
-A child or two was present who was delighted to think of the way to the
-school-house being impassable till the next thaw.
-
-“Stay a bit,” cried Rundell, coming in from the door, and pulling it
-after him. "I am not going without my brand, and a fine blazing one
-too,—with such noises abroad."
-
-“What noises?”
-
-“Wolves. A strong pack of them, to judge by the cry.”
-
-All who possessed sheep were now troubled with dire apprehensions: and
-their fears were not allayed when Temmy let fall that wolves were
-howling, as the groom thought, on every side, during his ride from the
-Lodge. The boy had never been so alarmed in his life; and he laid a firm
-grasp on uncle Arthur’s coat-collar when there was talk of going home
-again.
-
-“You must let me go, Temmy. I must look after my lambs without more loss
-of time. If you had not been the strangest boy in the world, you would
-have given us notice to do so, long ago. I cannot conceive what makes
-you so silent about little things that happen.”
-
-Mrs. Sneyd could very well account for that which puzzled Arthur. She
-understood little minds, and had watched, only too anxiously, the
-process by which continual checking had rendered her grand-child afraid
-to tell that there was snow, or that wolves were abroad.
-
-“Come, lads,” cried Arthur. “Who cares for his sheep? Fetch your arms,
-and meet me at the poplar by the Kiln, and we will sally out to the
-pens, and have a wolf-hunt.”
-
-There was much glee at the prospect of this frolic; the more that such
-an one had not been expected to occur yet awhile. So early a
-commencement of winter had not happened within the experience of any
-inhabitant of Briery Creek. The swine in the woods had not yet exhausted
-their feast of autumn berries; and fallen apples and peaches enough
-remained to feed them for a month. The usual signal of the advance of
-the season,—these animals digging for hickory nuts among the rotting
-leaves,—had not been observed. In short, the snow had taken every body
-by surprise, unless it was the wolves.
-
-Dr. Sneyd lighted and guided home his wife and Temmy, in almost as high
-spirits as the youngest of the wolf-hunters. The season of sleighing was
-come, and his precious package of glass might soon be attainable. Dire
-as were the disasters which befel the party on their way,—the wetting,
-the loss of the track, the stumbles, the dread of wild beasts, and
-Temmy’s disappearance for ten seconds in a treacherous hollow,—the
-doctor did not find himself able to regret the state of the weather. He
-fixed his thoughts on the interests of science, and was consoled for
-every mischance.
-
-If he had foreseen all that would result from this night’s adventure, he
-would not have watched with so much pleasure for the lights along the
-verge of the forest, when the snow had ceased; nor have been amused at
-the tribute of wolves’ heads which he found the next morning deposited
-in his porch.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER VI.
-
- A FATHER’S HOPE.
-
-
-For several days an unwonted stillness reigned in Dr. Sneyd’s
-abode;—from the day that the fever under which Arthur was labouring had
-appeared of a serious character. While it was supposed to be merely a
-severe cold, caught on the night of the wolf-hunt, all had gone on as
-much in the common way as could be expected under the novelty of a sick
-person being in the house; but from the moment that there was a hint of
-danger, all was studious quiet. The surgeon stepped stealthily up
-stairs, and the heavy-footed maids did their best not to shake the
-floors they trod. Mrs. Temple conducted her consultations with her
-father in a whisper, though the study door was shut; and there was thus
-only too much opportunity for the patient’s voice to be heard all over
-the house, when his fever ran high.
-
-Temmy did not like to stay away, though he was very unhappy while on the
-spot. When he could not slip in behind the surgeon, he avoided the hall
-by entering the study through the garden-window. Then he could sit
-unobserved in the low chair; and, what was better, unemployed. He had an
-earnest desire to be of use, but so deep a conviction that he never
-could be useful, that it was a misery to him to be asked to do any
-thing. If requested merely to go an errand, or to watch for a messenger,
-he felt as if his uncle’s life depended on what he might see and say and
-do, within a few minutes; and he was therefore apt to see wrong, and
-speak amiss, and do the very reverse of what he ought to do. All this
-was only more tolerable than being at home;—either alone, in momentary
-terror of his father coming in; or with his father, listening to
-complaints of Mrs. Temple’s absence, or invited to an ill-timed
-facetiousness which he dared not decline, however sick at heart he might
-be.
-
-He had just crouched down in the great chair one morning, (supposing
-that Dr. Sneyd, who was bending over a letter at the table, had not seen
-him enter,) when Mrs. Temple appeared from the sick chamber. As she
-found time, in the first place, to kiss the forehead of her boy, whom
-she had not seen since the preceding afternoon, he took courage to ask,
-
-“Is uncle Arthur better?”
-
-Mrs. Temple could not reply otherwise than by a melancholy shake of the
-head. Dr. Sneyd turned round.
-
-“No, my dear,” he said. “Your uncle is not better. Louisa,” he
-continued, observing his daughter’s haggard and agitated countenance,
-“you must rest. This last night has been too much for you.”
-
-Arthur had dropped asleep at last, Mrs. Temple said; a troubled sleep,
-which she feared would soon be at an end; but she saw the surgeon coming
-up, and wished to receive him below, and ask him——A sudden thought
-seemed to strike her.
-
-"My dear, go up to your uncle’s room——"
-
-Temmy drew back, and very nearly said “No.”
-
-“You can leave your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. Ask your
-grandmamma to come down to us; and do you sit at the bottom of the bed,
-and watch your uncle’s sleep. If he seems likely to wake, call me. If
-not, sit quiet till I come.”
-
-Temmy moved slowly away. He had not once been in the room since the
-illness began, and nothing could exceed the awe he felt of what he might
-behold. He dared not linger, and therefore stole in, and delivered his
-message in so low a whisper that his grandmamma could not hear it till
-she had beckoned him out to the landing. She then went down, making a
-sign to him to take her place. It was now necessary to look into the
-bed; and Temmy sat with his eyes fixed, till his head shook
-involuntarily with his efforts to keep a steady gaze on his uncle’s
-face. That face seemed to change its form, hue and motion every instant,
-and sometimes Temmy fancied that the patient was suffocating, and then
-that he had ceased to breathe, according to the state that his own
-senses were in. Sometimes the relaxed and shrunken hand seemed to make
-an effort to grasp the bed clothes, and then Temmy’s was instantly
-outstretched, with a start, to the hand-bell with which he was to summon
-help. How altered was the face before him! So hollow, and wearing such
-an expression of misery! There was just sufficient likeness to uncle
-Arthur to enable Temmy to believe that it was he; and quite enough
-difference to suggest his being possessed; or, in some sort, not quite
-uncle Arthur. He wished somebody would come. How was he to know how soon
-he should ring the bell?
-
-This was soon decided. Without a moment’s warning, Arthur opened his
-eyes wide, and sat up in the bed, looking at Temmy, till the boy nearly
-screamed, and never thought of ringing the bell. When he saw, however,
-that Arthur was attempting to get out of bed, he rang hastily, and then
-ran to him, saying,
-
-"O, uncle, do lie down again, that I may tell you about the lamb that
-got so torn, you know. I have a great deal to tell you about that lamb,
-and the old ewe too. And Isaac says——"
-
-“Ay, the lamb, the lamb,” feebly said Arthur, sinking back upon his
-pillow.
-
-When Dr. Sneyd presently appeared, he found Arthur listening dully,
-painfully, with his glazed eyes fixed on the boy, who was telling, in a
-hurried manner of forced cheerfulness, a long story about the lamb that
-was getting well. He broke off when help appeared.
-
-“O grandpapa, he woke in such a hurry! He tried to get out of bed,
-grandpapa.”
-
-“Yes, my dear, I understand. You did just the right thing, Temmy; and
-now you may go down. None of us could have done better, my dear boy.”
-
-Any one who had met Temmy crying on the stairs would have rather
-supposed that he had done just the wrong thing. Yet Temmy was a
-different boy from that hour. He even thought that he should not much
-mind being in uncle Arthur’s room again, if any body should wish to send
-him there. It was yet some time before the event of this illness was
-considered as decided, and as the days passed on, there became less and
-less occasion for inquiry in words, each morning. Whenever Dr. Sneyd’s
-countenance was remarkably placid, and his manner particularly quiet,
-Temmy knew that his uncle was worse. It was rarely, and during very
-brief intervals, that he was considered better. Strange things happened
-now and then which made the boy question whether the world was just now
-going on in its usual course. It was not very strange to hear his papa
-question Mrs. Temple, during the short periods of her being at home,
-about Arthur’s will; whether he had one; how it was supposed his
-property would be left; and whether he was ever sensible enough to make
-any alterations that might be desirable under the late growth of his
-little property. It was not strange that Mr. Temple should ask these
-questions, nor that they should be answered briefly and with tears: but
-it was strange that papa went one day himself into the grapery, and cut
-with his own hands the very finest grapes for Arthur, and permitted
-Temmy to carry them, though they filled a rather large basket. It seemed
-strange that Mr. Kendall, apt as he was, when every body was well, to
-joke in season and out of season with guests and neighbours, should now
-be grave from morning till night, and often through the night, watching,
-considering, inventing, assisting, till Mrs. Sneyd said that, if Arthur
-recovered, he would owe his life, under God, to the care of his medical
-friend. It was strange to see a physician arrive from a great distance,
-twice in one week, and go away again as soon as his horse was refreshed:
-though nothing could be more natural than the anxiety of the villagers
-who stood at their doors, ready to accost the physician as he went away,
-and to try to learn how much hope he really thought there was of
-Arthur’s recovery. It was very strange to meet Dr. Sneyd, one morning,
-with Arthur’s axe on his shoulder, going out to do some work in the
-woods that Arthur had been talking about all night, and wanted
-grievously to be doing himself, till Dr. Sneyd had promised that he, and
-nobody else, should accomplish it for him. It was strange that Mr.
-Hesselden should choose that time, of all others, to turn back with Dr.
-Sneyd, and ask why he had not been sent for to the patient’s bed-side,
-urging that it was dreadful to think what might become of him hereafter,
-if it should please God to remove him in his present feeble condition of
-mind. Of all strange things it seemed the strangest that any one should
-dare to add to such trouble as the greyhaired father must be suffering,
-and that Mr. Hesselden should fancy himself better qualified than Dr.
-Sneyd to watch over the religious state of this virtuous son of a pious
-parent. Even Temmy could understand enough to be disgusted, and to
-venerate the humble dignity with which Mr. Hesselden’s officiousness was
-checked, and the calmness with which it was at once admitted that
-Arthur’s period of probation seemed to be fast drawing to a close. But
-nothing astonished the boy so much as some circumstances relating to his
-mother. Temmy never knew before that she was fond of uncle Arthur,—or of
-any one, unless it was himself. When his papa was not by, her manner was
-usually high and cold to every body; and it had become more strikingly
-so since he had observed her dress to be shabby. He was now awe-struck
-when he saw her sit sobbing behind the curtain, with both hands covering
-her face. But it was much worse to see her one day, after standing for a
-long while gazing on the sunken countenance before her, cast herself
-down by the bedside and cry,
-
-"O, Arthur—Arthur—you will not look at me!"
-
-Temmy could not stay to see what happened. He took refuge with his
-grandpapa, who, on hearing what had overpowered him, led him up again to
-the chamber, where Louisa was on her knees, weeping quietly with her
-face hid in the bed clothes. She was not now in so much need of comfort.
-Arthur had turned his eyes upon her, and, she thought, attempted to
-speak. She believed she could now watch by him till the last without
-repining; but it had been dreary,—most dreary, to see him wasting
-without one sign of love or consciousness.
-
-“What must it be then, my dear daughter, to watch for months and years
-in vain for such a sign?” The doctor held in his hand a letter which
-Temmy had for some days observed that his grandfather seemed unable to
-part with. It told that the most beloved of his old friends had had an
-attack of paralysis. It was little probable that he would write or send
-message more.
-
-“That it should happen just at this time!” murmured Louisa.
-
-"I grieve for you, my dear. You have many years before you, and the loss
-of this brother——But for your mother and me it is not altogether so
-trying. We cannot have very long to remain; and the more it pleases God
-to wean us from this world, the less anxiety there will be in leaving
-it. If the old friends we loved, and the young we depended on, go first,
-the next world is made all the brighter; and it is with that world that
-we have now most to do."
-
-"But of all losses—that Arthur must be the one——"
-
-"This is the one we could be least prepared for, and from this there is,
-perhaps, the strongest recoil,—especially when we think of this
-boy,"—laying his hand on Temmy’s head. “But it is enough that it is the
-fittest for us. If we cannot see this, we cannot but believe it; and let
-the Lord do what seemeth to him good.”
-
-"But such a son! Such a man——"
-
-"Ah! there is precious consolation! No father’s—no mother’s heart—Hear
-me, Arthur"——and he laid his hand on that of his son—“No parent’s heart
-had ever more perfect repose upon a child than we have had upon you, my
-dear son!”
-
-“He hears you.”
-
-"If not now, I trust he shall know it hereafter. His mother and I have
-never been thankless, I believe, for what God has given us in our
-children; but now is the time to feel truly what His bounty has been.
-Some time hence, we may find ourselves growing weary under our loss,
-however we may acquiesce: but now there is the support given through him
-who is the resurrection and the life,—this support without drawback,
-without fear. Thank God!"
-
-After a pause, Mrs. Temple said, hesitatingly,
-
-“You have seen Mr. Hesselden?”
-
-"I have. He believes that there is presumption in the strength of my
-hope. But it seems to me that there would be great presumption in doubt
-and dread. If my son were a man of a worldly mind,—if his affections
-were given to wealth and fame, or to lower objects still, it would
-become us to kneel and cry, day and night, for more time, before he must
-enter the state where, with such a spirit, he must find himself poor and
-miserable and blind and naked. But his Maker has so guided him that his
-affections have been fixed on objects which will not be left behind in
-this world, or buried away with the body, leaving him desolate in the
-presence of his God. He loves knowledge, and for long past he has lived
-on benevolence; and he will do the same henceforth and for ever, if the
-gospel, in which he has delighted from his youth up, say true. Far be it
-from us to doubt his being happy in thus living for the prime ends of
-his being!"
-
-Mrs. Temple was still silent.
-
-“You are thinking of the other side of his character,” observed Dr.
-Sneyd; “of that dark side which every fallible creature has. Here would
-be my fear, if I feared at all. But I do not fear for Arthur that
-species of suffering which he has ever courted here. I believe he was
-always sooner or later thankful for the disappointment of unreasonable
-desires, and the mortifications of pride, and all retribution for sins
-and follies. There is no reason to suppose that he will shrink from the
-retribution which will in like manner follow such sins and follies as he
-may carry with him into another state. All desires whose gratification
-cannot enter there will be starved out. The process will be painful; but
-the subject of this pain will be the first to acquiesce in it. We,
-therefore, will not murmur nor fear.”
-
-“If all this be true, if it be religious, how many torment themselves
-and one another in vain about the terrors of the gospel!”
-
-"Very many. For my part, whatever terrors I might feel without the
-gospel,—and I can imagine that they might be many and great,—I cannot
-conceive of any being left when the gospel is taken home to the
-understanding and the heart. It so strips away all the delusions, amidst
-which alone terror can arise under the recognition of a benignant
-Providence, as to leave a broad unincumbered basis for faith to rest
-upon; a faith which must pass from strength to strength, divesting
-itself of one weakness and pain after another, till the end comes when
-perfect love casts out fear;—a consummation which can never be reached
-by more than a few, while arbitrary sufferings are connected with the
-word of God in the unauthorized way which is too common at present. No!
-if there be one characteristic of the gospel rather than another, it is
-its repudiating terrors—(and terrors belong only to ignorance)—by
-casting a new and searching light on the operations of Providence, and
-showing how happiness is the issue of them all. Surely, daughter, there
-is no presumption in saying this, to the glory of Him who gave the
-gospel."
-
-“I trust not, father.”
-
-"My dear, with as much confidence as an apostle, were he here, would
-desire your brother to arise and walk before us all, do I say to him, if
-he can yet hear me, ‘Fear not, for God is with thee.’ I wish I feared as
-little for you, Louisa; but indeed this heavy grief is bearing you down.
-God comfort you, my child! for we perceive that we cannot."
-
-With a passion of grief, Louisa prayed that she might not be left the
-only child of her parents. She had never been, she never should be, to
-them what she ought. Arthur must not go. Her father led her away,
-soothing her self-reproaches, and giving her hope, by showing how much
-of his hope for this world depended on her. She made a speedy effort to
-compose herself, as she could not bear to be long absent from Arthur’s
-bedside. Her mother was now there, acting with all the silent self-
-possession which she had preserved throughout.
-
-The snow was all melted before the morning when the funeral train set
-forth from Dr. Sneyd’s door. On leaving the gate, the party turned,—not
-in the direction of the chapel, but towards the forest. As Mr. Hesselden
-could not in conscience countenance such a departure as that of
-Arthur,—lost in unbelief, and unrelieved of his sins as he believed the
-sufferer to have been,—it was thought better that the interment should
-take place as if no Mr. Hesselden had been there. and no chapel built;
-and the whole was conducted as on one former occasion since the
-establishment of the settlement. The plain coffin was carried by four of
-the villagers, and followed by all the rest, except a very few who
-remained about the Lodge. Mrs. Sneyd would not hear of her husband’s
-going through the service unsupported by any of his family. Mrs.
-Temple’s presence was out of the question. Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy
-therefore walked with Dr. Sneyd. When arrived at the open green space
-appointed, the family sat down beside the coffin, while the men who had
-brought spades dug a grave, and those who had borne axes felled trees
-with which to secure the body from the beasts of the forest. There was
-something soothing rather than the contrary in observing how all went on
-as if the spectators had been gazing with their usual ease upon the
-operations of nature. The squirrels ran among the leaves which gaudily
-carpeted the ground in the shade: the cattle browzed carelessly,
-tinkling their bells among the trees. A lark sprang up from the ground-
-nest where she was sitting solitary when the grave-diggers stirred the
-long grass in which she had been hidden; and a deer, which had taken
-alarm at the shock of the woodsmen’s axes, made a timid survey of the
-party, and bounded away into the dark parts of the wood. The children,
-who were brought for the purpose of showing respect to the departed,
-could scarcely be kept in order by their anxious parents, during the
-time of preparation. They would pick up glossy brown nuts that lay at
-their feet; and trudged rustling through all the leaves they could
-manage to tread upon, in hopes of dislodging mice or other small animals
-to which they might give chase. One little girl, with all a little
-girl’s love for bright colours, secured a handful of the scarlet leaves
-of the maple, the deep yellow of the walnut and hickory, and the pink of
-the wild vine; and, using the coffin for a table, began laying out her
-treasure there in a circle. Dr. Sneyd was watching her with a placid
-smile, when the mother, in an agony of confusion, ran to put a stop to
-the amusement. The doctor would not let the child be interfered with. He
-seemed to have pleasure in entering into the feelings of as many about
-him as could not enter into his.
-
-He was quite prepared for his office at the moment when all was ready
-for him. None who were present had ever beheld or listened to a funeral
-service so impressive as this of the greyheaded father over the grave of
-his son. The few, the very few natural tears shed at the moment of final
-surrender did not impair the dignity of the service, nor, most
-assuredly, the acceptableness of the devotion from which, as much as
-from human grief, they sprang. The doctor would himself see the grave
-filled up, and the felled trees so arranged upon it as to render it
-perfectly safe. Then he was ready to be the support of his wife home;
-and at his own gate, he forgot none who had paid this last mark of
-respect to his son. He shook hands with them every one, and touched his
-hat to them when he withdrew within the gate.
-
-Mrs. Sneyd wistfully followed him into his study, instead of going to
-seek her daughter.—Was he going to write?
-
-“Yes, my dear. There is one in England to whom these tidings are first
-due from ourselves. I shall write but little; for hers will be an
-affliction with which we must not intermeddle. At least, it is natural
-for Arthur’s father to think so. Will you stay beside me? Or are you
-going to Louisa?”
-
-"I ought to write to Mrs. Rogers; and I think I will do it now, beside
-you. And yet——Louisa——Tell me, dear, which I shall do."
-
-There was something in the listlessness and indecision of tone with
-which this was said that more nearly overset Dr. Sneyd’s fortitude than
-any thing that had happened this day. Conquering his emotion, he said,
-
-"Let us both take a turn in the garden first, and then——"—and he drew
-his wife’s arm within his own, and led her out. Temmy was
-there,—lingering, solitary and disconsolate in one of the walks. The
-servants had told him that he must not go up to his mamma; they believed
-she was asleep; and then Temmy did not know where to go, and was not at
-all sure how much he might do on the day of a funeral. In exerting
-themselves to cheer him, the doctor and Mrs. Sneyd revived each other;
-and when Mrs. Temple arose, head-achy and feverish, and went to the
-window for air, she was surprised to see her father with his spade in
-his hand, looking on while Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy sought out the last
-remains of the autumn fruit in the orchard.
-
-When the long evening had set in, and the most necessary of the letters
-were written, little seemed left to be done but to take care of Mrs.
-Temple, whose grief had, for the present, much impaired her health. She
-lay shivering on a couch drawn very near the fire; and her mother began
-to feel so uneasy at the continuance of her head-ache that she was
-really glad when Mr. Kendall came up from the village to enquire after
-the family. It was like his usual kind attention; and perhaps he said no
-more than the occasion might justify of distress of mind being the cause
-of indisposition. Yet his manner struck Mrs. Sneyd as being peculiarly
-solemn,—somewhat inquisitive, and, on the whole, unsatisfactory. Mrs.
-Temple also asked herself for a moment whether Kendall could possibly
-know that she was not a happy wife, and would dare to exhibit his
-knowledge to her. But she was not strong enough to support the dignified
-manner necessary on such a supposition; and she preferred dismissing the
-thought. She was recommended to rest as much as possible; to turn her
-mind from painful subjects; and, above all, to remain where she was. She
-must not think of going home at present;—a declaration for which every
-body present was heartily thankful.
-
-When Temmy had attended the surgeon to the door, he returned; and
-instead of seating himself at his drawing, as before, wandered from
-window to window, listening, and seeming very uncomfortable. Dr. Sneyd
-invited him to the fire-side, and made room for him between his knees;
-but Temmy could not be happy even there,—the night was so stormy, and it
-was raining so very heavily!
-
-“Well, my dear?”
-
-“And uncle Arthur is out in the wood, all alone, and every body else so
-comfortable at home!”
-
-“My boy, your uncle can never more be hurt by storm or heat, by night
-dew or rain. We will not forget him while we are comfortable, as you
-say, by our fire-side: but it is we ourselves, the living, who have to
-be sheltered and tended with care and pains, like so many infants, while
-perhaps the departed make sport of these things, and look back upon the
-needful care of the body as grown men look down upon the cradles they
-were rocked in, and the cushions spread for them to fall upon when they
-learned to walk. Uncle Arthur may know more about storms than we; but we
-know that they will never more beat upon his head.”
-
-Temmy believed this; yet he could not help thinking of the soaked grass,
-and the dripping boughs, and the groaning of the forest in the wind,—and
-even of the panther and the wild cat snuffing round the grave they could
-not reach. He could not help feeling as if his uncle was deserted; and
-he had moreover the fear that, though he could never, never think less
-of him than now, others would fall more and more into their old way of
-talking and laughing in the light of the fire, without casting a thought
-towards the forest or any thing that it contained. He felt as if he was,
-in such a case, called upon to vindicate uncle Arthur’s claims to solemn
-remembrance, and pondered the feasibility of staying at home alone to
-think about uncle Arthur when the time should be again come for every
-body else to be reading and working, or dancing, during the evenings at
-the schoolhouse.
-
-Mrs. Sneyd believed all that her husband had just said to Temmy; and the
-scripture which he read this evening to his family, about the heavenly
-transcending the earthly, did not pass idly over her ear; yet she so far
-felt with Temmy that she looked out, forest-wards, for long before she
-tried to rest; and, with the first grey of the morning, was again at the
-same station. On the first occasion, she was somewhat surprised by two
-things that she saw;—many lights flitting about the village, and on the
-road to the Lodge,—and a faint glimmer, like the spark of a glow-worm,
-in the opposite direction, as if precisely on the solitary spot where
-Arthur lay. Dr. Sneyd could not distinguish it through the storm; but on
-being assured that there was certainly some light, supposed that it
-might be one of the meteoric fires which were wont to dart out of the
-damp brakes, and run along the close alleys of the forest, like swift
-torch-bearers of the night. For the restlessness in the village he could
-not so easily account; nor did he take much pains to do so; for he was
-wearied out,—and the sleep of the innocent, the repose of the pious,
-awaited him.
-
-"From this he was unwillingly awakened, at peep of dawn, by Mrs. Sneyd,
-who was certain that she had distinguished the figure of a man, closely
-muffled, pacing the garden. She had previously fancied she heard a
-horse-tread in the turf road.
-
-“My dear,” said the doctor, “who should it be? We have no thieves here,
-you know; and what should anybody else want in our garden at this hour?”
-
-"Why—you will not believe me, I dare say,—but I have a strong
-impression,—I cannot help thinking it is Temple."
-
-Dr. Sneyd was at the window without another word. It was still so dark
-that he could not distinguish the intruder till he passed directly
-before the window. At that moment the doctor threw up the sash. The wind
-blew in chilly, bringing the autumnal scent of decaying vegetation from
-the woods; but the rain was over. The driving clouds let out a faint
-glimmer from the east; but all besides was darkness, except a little
-yellow light which was still wandering on the prairie, and which now
-appeared not far distant from the paling of the orchard.
-
-“Mr. Temple, is it you?” asked Dr. Sneyd. “What brings you here?”
-
-The gentleman appeared excessively nervous. He could only relate that he
-wanted to see his wife,—that he must see Mrs. Temple instantly. She must
-come down to him,—down to the window, at least. He positively could not
-enter the house. He had not a moment to spare. He was on business of
-life and death. He must insist on Mrs. Temple being called.
-
-She was so, as the intelligence of her being ill seemed to effect no
-change in the gentleman’s determination. He appeared to think that she
-would have ample time to get well afterwards. When her mother had seen
-that she was duly wrapped up, and her father had himself opened the
-shutter of the study window, to avoid awakening the servants’ curiosity,
-both withdrew to their own apartment, without asking further questions
-of Temple.
-
-“Did you see anybody else, my dear?” the doctor inquired. Mrs. Sneyd was
-surprised at the question.
-
-"Because—I did. Did you see no torch or lantern behind the palings? I am
-sure there was a dark face peeping through to see what we were doing."
-
-A pang of horror shot through Mrs. Sneyd when she asked her husband
-whether he supposed it was an Indian. O, no; only a half-savage. He
-believed it to be one of the Brawnees. If so, Mrs. Sneyd could account
-for the light in the forest, as well as for the maiden being so far from
-home at this hour. She had marked her extreme grief at the interment the
-day before, and other things previously, which gave her the idea that
-Arthur’s grave had been lighted and guarded by one who would have been
-only too happy to have watched over him while he lived.
-
-It was even so, as Mrs. Sneyd afterwards ascertained. The maiden hung
-lanterns round the space occupied by the grave, every night, till all
-danger was over of Arthur’s remains being interfered with. The family
-could not refuse to be gratified with this mark of devotion;—except
-Temple, who would have been glad if the shadows of the night had availed
-to shroud his proceedings from curious eyes.
-
-When the gate was heard to swing on its hinges, and the tread of a horse
-was again distinguishable on the soaked ground, Mrs. Sneyd thought she
-might look out upon the stairs, and watch her daughter to her chamber.
-But Mrs. Temple was already there. Not wishing to be asked any
-questions, she had gone up softly, and as softly closed her door; so
-that her parents, not choosing to disturb her, must wait till the
-morning for the satisfaction of their uneasy curiosity.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- CHAPTER VII.
-
- THE END OF THE MATTER.
-
-
-The truth was not long in becoming known when the daylight called the
-villagers abroad. Temple was gone. He had fled from his creditors, and
-to escape the vengeance of the land-office for his embezzlement of funds
-which had come into his hands in the transaction of its business. His
-creditors might make what they could of that which he left behind; but
-his mansion, shrubberies, conservatories, and ornamental furniture could
-by no method be made to compensate for the property which had flown to
-the moon, or somewhere else where it was as little accessible. The
-estate, disposed of to the greatest possible advantage, could not be
-made worth more than what was spent upon it in its present form; and the
-enormous waste which had been perpetrated in wanton caprices could never
-be repaired.
-
-Temple had spent more than his income, from the time he set foot in
-America, if not before. He was only careless at first, forgetting to
-provide for contingencies, and being regularly astonished, as often as
-he looked into his affairs, at discovering how much his expenses had
-exceeded his expectations. He next found it easier to avoid looking too
-closely into his affairs than to control his passion for ostentation:
-and from that moment, he trod the downward path of the spendthrift;
-raising money by any means that he could devise, and trusting that fate
-or something would help him before all was spent. Fate did not come in
-as a helper till he could turn nothing more of his own into dollars
-without the humiliation of appearing to retrench; and to submit to this
-was quite out of the question. So he compelled his lady to darn and dye,
-and make her old wardrobe serve; restricted her allowance for
-housekeeping in all the departments that he had nothing to do with; and
-betook himself to embezzlement. This served his purpose for a short
-time; but, on the day of Arthur’s funeral, a stranger was observed to
-have arrived in the place, without an introduction to Mr. Temple.
-Temple’s unpaid labourers had lately taken the liberty of asking for
-their money, and, actuated by some unknown impulse, had this evening
-come up with torches through the rain, to call the gentleman to account,
-and show him that they would not be trifled with any longer. It was time
-to be off; and Temple waited only till the village was quiet, before he
-stole to the stables, saddled his horse with his own hands, just called
-to tell his wife that he could not at present say whether he should send
-for her, or whether she might never see or hear from him more, and
-turned his back on Briery Creek for ever. Whether his wife would choose
-to go to him was a question which did not seem to occur to his mind.
-
-A passing traveller, looking down upon Briery Creek from the
-neighbouring ridge, might perhaps ask the name of the social benefactor
-who had ornamented the district with yon splendid mansion, presented the
-village with a place of worship, and the shell, at least, of a
-parsonage; had reclaimed those green lawns from the wild prairie, and
-cleared the woodland in the rear so as to leave, conspicuous in beauty,
-clumps of the noblest forest trees. Such a stranger ought not to use the
-term “benefactor” till he knew whence came the means by which all this
-work was wrought. If from a revenue which could supply these graces
-after all needful purposes had been fulfilled, well and good. Such an
-expenditure would then have been truly beneficent. It is a benignant act
-to embellish God’s earth for the use and delight of man. But if there is
-not revenue enough for such objects,—if they are attained by the
-sacrifice of those funds on whose reproduction society depends for
-subsistence, the act, from being beneficent, becomes criminal. The
-mansion is built out of the maintenance of the labourer; and that which
-should have been bread to the next generation is turned into barren
-stone. Temple was a criminal before he committed fraud. He injured
-society by exhausting its material resources, and leaving no adequate
-substitute for them. If he had lavished his capital, as Dr. Sneyd laid
-out his revenue, in the pursuit of science, it is very possible that,
-though such an expenditure might require justification in comparison
-with Dr. Sneyd’s, the good he would effect might have so superabounded
-above the harm as to have made society his debtor,—(as in many a case
-where philosophers have expended all their substance in perfecting a
-discovery or invention,)—but Temple had done nothing like this. The
-beauty of his estate, however desirable in itself, was no equivalent for
-the cost of happiness through which it was produced. He had no claim to
-a share of the almost unlimited credit allowed, by the common consent of
-society, to its highest class of benefactors,—the explorers of
-Providence.
-
-Arthur had done little less than Temple in the way of adorning Briery
-Creek; and how differently! His smiling fields, his flocks spreading
-over the prairie, his own house, and the dwellings of his labourers,
-increasing in number and improving in comfort every year, were as
-beautiful in the eye of a right-minded observer as the grander abode of
-his brother-in-law. There were indications also of new graces which were
-to arise in their proper time. The clearings were made with a view to
-the future beauty of the little estate; creepers were already spreading
-over the white front of the house, and no little pains had been bestowed
-upon the garden. Yet, so far from any suffering by Arthur’s expenditure,
-every body had been benefited. A larger fund had remained at the close
-of each year for the employment of labour during the next; and if new
-labourers were induced to come from a distance and settle here, it was
-not that they might be kept busy and overpaid for a time, and afterwards
-be left unemployed and defrauded of part of their dues, but that they
-and their children after them might prosper with the prosperity of their
-employer. Temple had absconded, leaving a name which would be mentioned
-with either contempt or abhorrence as long as it would be mentioned at
-all. Arthur had departed, surrounded with the blessings of those who
-regarded him as a benefactor. He had left a legacy of substantial wealth
-to the society in which he had lived, and a name which would be
-perpetuated with honour.
-
-It was hoped that the effects of Arthur’s good deeds would long outlast
-those of Temple’s evil ones. In all communities that can boast of any
-considerable degree of civilization, there are many accumulators to one
-spendthrift. The principle of accumulation is so strong, that it has
-been perpetually found an overmatch for the extravagance of ostentatious
-governments, and for the wholesale waste of war. The capital of every
-tolerably governed state has been found to be gradually on the increase,
-however much misery might, through mismanagement, be inflicted on
-certain portions of the people. It was to be hoped that such would be
-the process in Briery Creek; that the little capitals which had been
-saved by the humbler residents would be more freely employed in putting
-labour into action, than while the great man had been there to buy up
-all that was to be had. It might be hoped that the losses of the
-defrauded labourers might thus be in time repaired, and new acquisitions
-made. Again:—there was now no one to interfere with the exchanges in the
-markets, and thus perplex the calculations of producers, causing
-deficiencies of some articles and gluts of others;—inequalities which no
-foresight could guard against. Every one might now have as much fresh
-meat, and as little salt, as he chose; and the general taste would
-regulate the supply in the market, to the security of those who sold and
-the satisfaction of those who bought. It would be well for certain
-nations if those who attempt interference with commerce on a larger
-scale could be as easily scared away as Temple; their dictation (in the
-form of bounties and prohibitions) expiring as they withdrew. Greater,
-in proportion to their greater influence in society, would be the
-rejoicing at their departure, than that with which Temple’s
-disappearance was hailed, when the first dismay of his poorer creditors
-was overcome.
-
-The ease which was thus occasioned was not confined to those who had
-merely a business connexion with him. No one liked to tell his notions
-upon so delicate a matter; but a significant smile went round, some
-months after, when it was remarked how uncommonly well Mrs. Temple was
-looking, and how gracious she had become, and what a different kind of
-boy Temmy now promised to be from any thing that was expected of him
-formerly. The air of the farm was pronounced to be a fine thing for them
-both.
-
-Yes; the farm,—Arthur’s farm. The estate was of course left to his
-family; and it was the most obvious thing in the world that Mrs. Temple
-should establish herself in it, and superintend its management, with
-Isaac and his wife to assist her, till Temmy should be old and wise
-enough to take it into his own charge. The lady herself proposed this
-plan; and it was a fortunate thing that she had always been fond of a
-dairy and poultry yard, and of a country life altogether. The pride
-which had chilled all who came near her during “the winter of her
-discontent,” gradually thawed under the genial influence of freedom and
-ease. Her parents once more recognized in her the Louisa Sneyd who had
-been so long lost to them, and every body but the Hesseldens thought her
-so improved that she could not have been known for the same person;—even
-as to beauty,—so much brighter did she look carrying up a present of
-eggs and cream-cheese to her mother, in the early morning, than
-sauntering through the heat from her carriage, entrenched behind her
-parasol, with the liveried servant at her heels, burdened with her
-pocket-handkerchief and a pine-apple for the doctor’s eating.
-
-She was never afraid of being too early at her father’s. Dr. Sneyd was
-as fond of country occupations as she; and when he had not been in his
-observatory for half the night, might be found at sunrise digging or
-planting in his garden. His grievous loss had not destroyed his
-energies; it had rather stimulated them, by attaching him for the short
-remainder of his days to the place of his present abode. He had
-gradually relaxed in his desire to see England again, and had now
-relinquished the idea entirely,—not through indolence, or because the
-circle of his old friends at home was no longer complete, but
-because,—free from superstition as he was,—his son being buried there
-attached him to the place. Here he, and his wife, and their daughter,
-and grandchild, could speak of Arthur more frequently, more easily, more
-happily, than they could ever learn to do elsewhere. They could carry
-forward his designs, work in his stead, and feel, act, and talk as if he
-were still one of them. Not only did they thus happily regard him in the
-broad sunshine, when amidst the lively hum of voices from the village
-they were apt to fancy that they could distinguish his; but, in the dead
-of night, when the doctor was alone in his observatory, or sometimes
-assisted by Mrs. Sneyd, (who had taken pains to qualify herself thus
-late to aid her husband,) bright thoughts of the departed would
-accompany the planets in their courses, and hopes were in attendance
-which did not vanish with the morning light, or grow dark in the evening
-shade. The large telescope was not, for some time, of the use that was
-expected, for want of such an assistant as Arthur. A sigh would
-occasionally escape from Dr. Sneyd when he felt how Arthur would have
-enjoyed a newly-made discovery,—how he might have suggested the means of
-removing a difficulty. Then a smile would succeed at the bare
-imagination of how much greater things might be revealed in Arthur’s new
-sphere of habitation; and at the conviction that the progress of God’s
-truth can never be hurtfully delayed, whether its individual agents are
-left to work here, or removed to a different destination elsewhere.
-
-Hopes, different in kind, but precious in their way, rested now on
-Temmy,—soon to be called by the less undignified name of Temple. The boy
-had brightened, in intellect and in spirits, from the hour that he began
-to surmount his agitation at the idea of being some day sole master of
-the farm. There was something tangible in farm-learning, which he felt
-he could master when there was no one to rebuke and ridicule almost
-every thing he attempted; and in this department he had a model before
-him on which his attention was for ever fixed. Uncle Arthur was the plea
-for every new thing he proposed to attempt; and, by dint of incessant
-recourse to it, he attempted many things which he would not otherwise
-have dreamed of. Among other visions for the future, he saw himself
-holding the pen in the observatory, _sans peur et sans reproche_.
-
-He was some time in learning to attend to two things at once; and all
-his merits and demerits might safely be discussed within a yard of his
-ear, while he was buried in mathematics or wielding his pencil; which he
-always contrived to do at odd moments.
-
-“What is he about now?” was the question that passed between the trio
-who were observing him, one evening, when he had been silent some time,
-and appeared to be lightly sketching on a scrap of paper which lay
-before him.
-
-“Ephraim’s cabin, I dare say,” observed his mother. “We are to have a
-frolic in a few days, to raise a cabin for Ephraim, who has worked
-wonderfully hard in the prospect of having a dwelling of his own. It is
-Temple’s affair altogether; and I know his head has been full of it for
-days past. He wishes that Ephraim’s cabin should be second to none on
-the estate.”
-
-“Let us see what he will make of it,” said the doctor, putting on his
-spectacles, and stepping softly behind Temple. He looked on, over the
-youth’s shoulder, for a few minutes, with a quiet smile, and then
-beckoned his wife.
-
-This second movement Temple observed. He looked up hastily.
-
-“Very like my dear boy! It is very like. It is something worth living
-for, Temple, to be so remembered.”
-
-"So remembered as this, Sir! It is so easy to copy the face, the——”"
-
-“The outward man? It is a great pleasure to us that you find it so; but
-it gives us infinitely more to see that you can copy after a better
-manner still. We can see a likeness there too, Temple.”
-
-Having illustrated the leading principles which regulate the PRODUCTION,
-DISTRIBUTION, and EXCHANGE of Wealth, we proceed to consider the laws of
-its CONSUMPTION.
-
-Of these four operations, the three first are means to the attainment of
-the last as an end.
-
-Consumption by individuals is the subject before us. Government
-consumption will be treated of hereafter.
-
-_Summary of Principles illustrated in this volume._
-
-Consumption is of two kinds, productive and unproductive.
-
-The object of the one is the restoration, with increase, in some new
-form, of that which is consumed. The object of the other is the
-enjoyment of some good through the sacrifice of that which is consumed.
-
-That which is consumed productively is capital, reappearing for future
-use. That which is consumed unproductively ceases to be capital, or any
-thing else. It is wholly lost.
-
-Such loss is desirable or the contrary in proportion as the happiness
-resulting from the sacrifice exceeds or falls short of the happiness
-belonging to the continued possession of the consumable commodity.
-
-The total of what is produced is called the gross produce.
-
-That which remains, after replacing the capital consumed, is called the
-net produce.
-
-While a man produces only that which he himself consumes, there is no
-demand and supply.
-
-If a man produces more of one thing than he consumes, it is for the sake
-of obtaining something which another man produces, over and above what
-he consumes.
-
-Each brings the two requisites of a demand; viz., the wish for a supply,
-and a commodity wherewith to obtain it.
-
-This commodity, which is the instrument of demand, is, at the same time,
-the instrument of supply.
-
-Though the respective commodities of no two producers may be exactly
-suitable to their respective wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, as
-every man’s instrument of demand and supply is identical, the aggregate
-demand of society must be precisely equal to its supply.
-
-In other words, a general glut is impossible.
-
-A partial glut is an evil which induces its own remedy; and the more
-quickly, the greater the evil; since, the aggregate demand and supply
-being always equal, a superabundance of one commodity testifies to the
-deficiency of another; and, all exchangers being anxious to exchange the
-deficient article for that which is superabundant, the production of the
-former will be quickened, and that of the latter slackened.
-
-A new creation of capital, employed in the production of the deficient
-commodity, may thus remedy a glut.
-
-A new creation of capital is always a benefit to society, by
-constituting a new demand.
-
-It follows that an unproductive consumption of capital is an injury to
-society, by contracting the demand. In other words, an expenditure which
-avoidably exceeds the revenue is a social crime.
-
-All interference which perplexes the calculations of producers, and thus
-causes the danger of a glut, is also a social crime.
-
- LONDON:
- PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES,
- Stamford Street.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
- THE THREE AGES.
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- FIRST AGE.
-
-
-One fine summer day, about three hundred and ten years ago, all
-Whitehall was astir with the throngs who were hastening to see my Lord
-Cardinal set forth from the episcopal palace for the Parliament House.
-The attendants of the great man had been collected for some time,—the
-bearers of the silver crosses, of the glittering pillars, and of the
-gilt mace, those who shouldered the pole-axes, the running footmen, and
-the grooms who held the well-clothed mules. The servants of the palace
-stood round, and there came among them a troop of gentlemen in foreign
-costume, whose country could not be divined from their complexions,
-since each wore a mask, rarely painted wherever left uncovered by a
-beard made of gold or silver wire. When my Lord Cardinal came forth,
-glowing in scarlet damask, and towering above everybody else by the
-height of the pillion and black velvet noble which he carried on his
-head, these strangers hastened to range themselves round the mule,
-(little less disguised than they,) and to offer a homage which savoured
-of mockery nearly as strongly as that of casual passengers, who had good
-reason for beholding with impatience the ostentatious triumphs of the
-“butcher’s dog,” as an angry man had been heard to call my Lord
-Cardinal. Wolsey made a sudden halt, and his goodly shoe, blazing with
-gems, met the ground less tenderly than was its wont, as its wearer
-stopped to cast a keen glance upon the strangers. He removed from
-beneath his nose the orange peel filled with confections which might
-defy the taint of the common people, and handed it to a page, with a
-motion which signified that he perceived how an atmosphere awaited him
-which he need not fear to breathe. There was then a general pause.
-
-“Pleaseth it your Grace,” said one of the strangers, “there are certain
-in Blackfriars that await your Grace’s passage and arrival, to prosper a
-light affair, in which your Grace’s countenance will be comfortable to
-them. Will it please you to spare them further perplexity of delay?”
-
-The Cardinal bowed low to the speaker, mounted his mule in all
-solemnity, and in a low voice asked for the honour of the stranger’s
-latest commands to his obedient parliament.
-
-“Commend us heartily to them, and see that they be readily obedient. We
-commend them to your Grace’s tuition and governance. We will be
-advertised of their answer at a certain fair house at Chelsea, where we
-shall divert ourselves till sunset. Pray heaven your Grace may meet as
-good diversion in Blackfriars!”
-
-The strangers renewed their obeisances, and drew back to allow the
-Cardinal’s stately retinue to form and proceed. The crowd of gazers
-moved on with the procession, and left but few to observe the motions of
-the strangers when the last scarlet drapery had fluttered, and the last
-gold mace had gleamed on the sight. He who seemed the leader of the
-foreigners then turned from the gate of the episcopal palace, followed
-by his companions. All mounted mules which awaited them at some
-distance, and proceeded in the direction of Chelsea.
-
-They saw many things on the way with which they might make merry. Pale,
-half-naked men were employed along the whole length of road in heaping
-up wood for bonfires, as the people had been told that it pleased the
-King’s Highness that they should rejoice for a mighty success over the
-French. There was something very diverting, it was found, in the economy
-of one who reserved a clean bit of board to be sawn into dust to eke out
-the substance of his children’s bread; and nothing could be more amusing
-than the coolness with which another pulled up the fence of his little
-field, that the wood might go to the bonfire, and the scanty produce of
-the soil to any wandering beggar who chose to take it, the owner having
-spent his all in supporting this war, and being now about to become a
-wandering beggar himself. He was complimented on his good cheer, when he
-said that the king’s asses were welcome to the thistles of his field,
-and the king’s pages to adorn themselves with the roses of his garden,
-since the king himself had levied as tribute the corn of the one and the
-fruits of the other. There was also much jesting with a damsel who
-seemed nothing loth to part with her child, when they offered playfully
-to steal it to be brought up for the wars. She thought the boy might
-thus perchance find his father, since he owed his birth to one who had
-promised the woman to get her father released from the prison where he
-pined because he was unable to pay his share of the Benevolence by which
-the King’s wars were to be carried on. She would give her son in
-exchange for her father, in hopes of forgetting her anger and her shame.
-The child was cast back into her arms with the assurance that when he
-was strong enough to wield his weapon, the King’s Highness would call
-for him. The next diverting passage was the meeting with a company of
-nuns, on their way from their despoiled convent to find a hiding-place
-in London. There was some exercise of wit in divining, while the maidens
-kept their veils before their faces, which of them were under four-and-
-twenty, and might therefore be toyed with, according to the royal
-proclamation, that all below that age were released from their vows.
-When the veils were pulled aside, there was loud laughter at the
-trembling of some of the women, and the useless rage of others, and at
-the solemn gravity of the youngest and prettiest of them all, who was
-reproved by her superior for putting on a bold, undismayed face when so
-many older and wiser sisters were brought to their wits’ end. Nothing
-could be made of her, and she was therefore the first to be forgotten
-when new matter of sport appeared. A friar, fatter than he seemed likely
-to be in future, was seen toiling along the road under a loaded basket,
-which the frolickers were certain must contain something good, from its
-being in the custody of a man of God. They got round him, so enclosing
-him with their beasts that he could not escape, and requested to be
-favoured with the sight and scent of the savoury matters which his
-basket doubtless contained, and for which they hungered and thirsted,
-since they had seen none but meagre fare in the houses they had
-passed:—little better than coarse bread had met their eyes since their
-own morning meal. The friar was not unwilling to display his treasures,
-(although unsavoury,) in the hope of a parting gift: so the eyes of the
-stranger were regaled with the parings of St. Edmund’s toes,—the most
-fastidious of saints in respect of his feet, to judge from the quantity
-of such parings as one and another of the present company had seen since
-there had been a stir among the monasteries. There were two of the coals
-which had roasted St. Lawrence—now cool enough to be safely handled. A
-head of St. Ursula,—very like a whale,—but undoubtedly a head of St.
-Ursula, because it was a perfect preventive of weeds in corn. The friar
-was recommended to bestow it upon the poor man who had been seen pulling
-up the fence of his barren field; but the leader of the party could not
-spare the friar at present. The holy man did not know his own age, for
-certain. He must,—all the party would take their oath of it,—be under
-four-and-twenty, and his merriment would match admirably with the
-gravity of the young nun who had just passed. Two of the revellers were
-sent back to catch, and bring her with all speed to Chelsea, where she
-should be married to the friar before the day was over; the King’s
-Highness being pleased to give her a dower. The friar affected to enjoy
-this as a jest, and sent a message to the damsel while inwardly planning
-how to escape from the party before they should reach Chelsea.
-
-His planning was in vain. He was ordered to ride behind one of the
-revellers, and his precious burden of relics was committed to the charge
-of another, and some of the mocking eyes of the party were for ever
-fixed on the holy man, insomuch that he did not dare to slip down and
-attempt to escape; and far too soon for him appeared the low, rambling
-house, its expanse of roof alive with pert pigeons, its garden alleys
-stretching down to the Thames, and its porch and gates guarded with
-rare, grim-looking stuffed quadrupeds placed in attitudes,—very unlike
-the living animals which might be seen moving at their pleasure in the
-meadow beyond.
-
-On the approach of the party, one female face after another appeared at
-the porch, vanished and reappeared, till an elderly lady came forth,
-laden with fruit, from a close alley, and served as a centre, round
-which rallied three or four comely young women, a middle-aged gentleman
-who was the husband of one of them, and not a few children. The elder
-dame smoothed a brow which was evidently too apt to be ruffled, put into
-her manner such little courtesy as she could attain, and having seen
-that servants enough were in attendance to relieve her guests of their
-mules, offered the King’s Majesty the choice of the garden or the cooler
-house, while a humble repast was in course of preparation.
-
-The attendant gentlemen liked the look of the garden, and the thought of
-straying through its green walks, or sitting by the water’s edge in
-company with the graceful and lively daughters of Sir Thomas More; but
-Henry chose to rest in the house, and it was necessary for some of his
-followers to remain beside him. While some, therefore, made their
-escape, and amused themselves with finding similitudes for one young
-lady in the swan which floated in a square pond, and in sprinkling
-another with drops from the fountain which rained coolness over the
-circular grass-plat, others were called upon to follow the King from the
-vestibule, which looked like the antechamber to Noah’s ark, and the
-gallery where the promising young artist, Holbein, had hung two or three
-portraits, to the study,—the large and airy study,—strewed with fresh
-rushes and ornamented with books, manuscripts, maps, viols, virginals,
-and other musical instruments, and sundry specimens of ladies’ works.
-
-“Marry,” said the King, looking round him, “there are no needs here of
-the lackery of my Lord Cardinal’s and other palaces. These maps and
-perspectives are as goodly as any cloth of gold at Hampton, or any cloth
-of bodkin at York House. Right fair ladies, this holy friar shall
-discourse to us, if you are so minded, of the things here figured
-forth.”
-
-The ladies had been accustomed to hear a holy man (though not a friar)
-discourse of things which were not dreamed of in every one’s philosophy;
-but they respectfully waited for further light from the friar, who now
-stepped forward to explain how no map could be made complete, because
-the end of the land and sea, where there was a precipice at its edge,
-overhanging hell, was shrouded with a dark mist. He found, with
-astonishing readiness, the country of the infidels, and, the very place
-of the sepulchre, and the land where recent travellers had met with the
-breed of asses derived from the beast which carried Christ into
-Jerusalem. These were known from the common ass from having, not only
-Christ’s common mark,—the cross,—but the marks of his stripes; and from
-the race suffering no one to ride them but a stray saint whom they might
-meet wayfaring. Many more such treasures of natural science did he lay
-open to his hearers with much fluency, as long as uninterrupted; but
-when the young ladies, as was their wont when discoursing on matters of
-science with their father or their tutor, made their inquiries in the
-Latin tongue, the friar lost his eloquence, and speedily substituted
-topics of theology; the only matter of which he could treat in Latin.
-This was not much to Henry’s taste. He could at any time hear all the
-theology he chose treated of by the first masters in his kingdom; but it
-was not every day that graceful young creatures, as witty as they were
-wise, were at hand to amuse his leisure with true tales,—not “of men
-whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders,” but of things quite as
-unknown to his experience, and far more beautiful to his fancy. It was a
-pity that Mr. Roper, the husband of the eldest of these young ladies,
-was present, as it prevented the guests putting all the perplexing
-questions which might otherwise have occurred to them.
-
-By the time the house had resounded with music, and the King had found
-his way up to the roof of the house,—where he had more than once amused
-himself with star-gazing, in the company of his trusty and well-beloved,
-the honourable Speaker, his host,—dinner was announced.
-
-The dame had bustled about to so much purpose, that the service of
-pewter made a grand display, the board was amply spread, and the King’s
-Highness was not called upon to content himself with the homely fare of
-a farm-house, as he had been assured he must. There was a pudding which
-marvellously pleased the royal palate; and Henry would know whose
-ingenuity had devised the rare mixture of ingredients.
-
-“If it like your Grace,” replied the lady, "the honour must be parted
-between me and Margaret, now sitting at your Grace’s right hand. The
-matter was put in a good train by me, in every material point; but as
-touching the more cunning and delicate—"
-
-“Mine own good mistress Margaret,” interrupted Henry, “we are minded to
-distinguish the great pain and discretion that you have towardly
-exercised on this matter; and for a recompense, we appoint you the
-monies of the next monastery that we shall require to surrender. The
-only grace we ask is that we may appoint the marriage of the monks who
-shall owe their liberty to us. Please it you, holy father, to advertise
-us of a sumptuous monastery that may be most easily discharged?”
-
-“I beseech your Grace to remember that what the regal power may
-overthrow, the papal power will rectify. Any damageable proceedings may
-bring on the head of your Highness’s servants a grievous punishment.”
-
-“From Servus Servorum?” said the King, laughing. “Let him come to the
-succour of the monks of Beggam, when they ring their abbey bell, and
-carry away the sums in their treasury from the hands of Mistress
-Margaret, to whom we appoint them. Nay, Mistress Margaret, I desire you
-as lovingly to take this largesse as I do mean it; and ensure yourself
-that that was ill-gotten which is now well-bestowed.”
-
-The friar probably wished to be dismissed from the King’s presence
-before his destined bride should arrive; for he muttered that dogs and
-base poisoners, who have their chiefest hope in this world, were ever
-ready to speak unfitting and slanderous words against those whom the
-holy Trinity held fast in his preservation. The naughty friar received,
-not an order to go about his business for supposing that Henry was
-deceived, but a box on the ear from the dignified hands of the monarch,
-and a promise that he should try the Little Ease in the Tower, if he did
-not constrain his contumacious tongue in the King’s presence. A dead
-silence followed this rebuff,—partly caused by dismay at the King’s
-levity about popish matters, and partly by sorrow that he should
-wantonly increase the enmity which was known to be borne to him by the
-monks and friars in his dominions. The only way of restoring the
-banished mirth was to call in one who stood without,—the facetious
-natural who was wont to season Henry’s repasts with his jests.
-
-As the jester entered, a royal messenger was seen standing outside, as
-if anxious to deliver the letter he had in charge; and, unfitting as
-seemed the time, it was presently in the hands of Henry. Its contents
-seemed to leave him in no humour for feast or jest; and he had given no
-further signal for mirth when his entirely beloved counsellor, the
-Cardinal, and his trusty and honourable Speaker arrived,—the one to glow
-and glitter in his costly apparel, and feast off “plump fesaunts,” and
-the other to resume the homely guise he loved best, and refresh himself
-with fruits and water.
-
-“Marry, my Lords,” cried the King, when they were seated, one on each
-side of him, “if the Lower House be not mindful of our needs, our sister
-of Scotland may satisfy herself for her jewels as she may. She is
-ashamed therewith; and would God there had never been word of the
-legacy, as the jewels are worth less to her than our estimation.”
-
-“Says the Queen of Scotland so much?” inquired the Cardinal.
-
-“Satisfy yourself how much more,” replied the King, handing to Wolsey
-the angry letter in which Margaret of Scotland expressed her contempt
-for the withholding of her father’s legacy of jewels.
-
-“Please your Highness, there are matters of other necessity than a
-perplexed woman’s letter,” observed the Cardinal, with a freedom of
-speech which was not now displeasing to his master.
-
-“Another wager lost by the Princess’s governante in her Highness’ name?
-Let us divert ourself with the inventory, my Lord Cardinal, while you
-refresh yourself in a more hearty wise than our trusty host.”
-
-Wolsey was impatient to consult upon the measures necessary to be taken
-to follow up the extorted resolution of the House to furnish supplies to
-the King’s needs: but Henry was in a mood for trifling, and he would
-examine for himself the list of requests from the steward of the
-Princess’s household; a list regularly addressed to the Cardinal, who
-chose to superintend the details of all the management that he could get
-into his own hands. Passing his arm round More’s neck, the King jested
-upon the items in the letter,—the ship of silver for the alms-dish, the
-spice plates, the disguisings for an interlude at a banquet, the
-trumpets for the minstrels, and a bow and quiver for his lady’s Grace.
-There was an earnest beseeching for a Lord of Misrule for the honourable
-household, and for a rebeck to be added to the band. A fair steel glass
-from Venice was desired, and a pair of hose wrought in silk and gold
-from Flanders. There was an account of a little money paid for “Mr. John
-poticary” coming to see my lady sick, and a great deal for a pound and a
-half of gold for embroidering a night-gown. Something was paid for a
-frontlet lost in a wager with my little lady Jane; and something more
-for the shaving of her Grace’s fool’s head; and, again, for binding
-prentice the son of a servant, and for Christopher, the surgeon, letting
-her lady’s Grace blood; and again for a wrought carnation satin for the
-favoured lady’s maid.
-
-“I marvel, my Lord Cardinal,” said the King, “that your Grace can take
-advice of the ordering of the Princess’s spice plates, and leave your
-master to be sorely perplexed with the grooms and the yeomen and pages,
-and those that bring complaints from the buttery, and the wardrobe of
-beds, and the chaundery, and the stables, till my very life is worn with
-tales of the mighty wants and debts of the household.”
-
-“If it like your Grace, my most curious inquisition hath of late been
-into the particulars of the royal household; and my latest enemies are
-divers grooms, yeomen, and pages, whom I have compelled to perform their
-bounden service to your Majesty, or to surrender it.”
-
-The Speaker conceived that the charge of his own household would be
-enough for the Cardinal, if he were made as other men; but as the King’s
-was added, that of the Princess might reasonably devolve upon some less
-occupied——
-
-“Upon yourself?” inquired the King. “Marry, if you were to appoint your
-spare diet of fruit for the Princess, Mistress Margaret should add to it
-such a pudding as I have to-day tasted. What say you, Mistress
-Margaret?” he continued, calling back the ladies who were modestly
-retiring, on finding the conversation turning upon matters of state.
-
-“My Margaret has no frontlets to lose in betting,” observed Sir Thomas
-More. “But your Grace knows that there are many who have more leisure
-for ordering the Princess’s household than your poor councillor. There
-are divers in your good city of London who can tell whether the silver
-ship for the alms-dish will not carry away the alms; and we have passed
-some by the wayside to-day who would see somewhat miraculous in these
-Venetian mirrors, not knowing their own faces therein.”
-
-“These are not mirrors whose quality it is to make faces seem long, or,
-certes, we ourself would use one,” said the King.
-
-“Long faces might sometimes be seen without glasses,” Sir Thomas More
-quietly replied.
-
-“As for shaven fools’ heads,” observed the King, looking at the friar,
-“there is no need to go to the Princess’s household to divert ourselves
-with that spectacle. We will beseech our released monks, who must needs
-lack occupation, to watch over their brethren of our household in this
-particular.”
-
-Sir Thomas More requested the friar to pronounce the thanksgiving over
-the board, (as the Cardinal had at length finished his meal,) and to
-instruct the women in certain holy matters, while the King’s Highness
-should receive account of the passages of the morning.
-
-Henry looked from the one to the other to know what had been their
-success in raising money from his faithful Commons. The Cardinal opened
-to him his plans for securing assent to the levy of an enormous
-benevolence. Wolsey himself had never been more apt, more subtle, more
-busy, than in his devices on this occasion. He had found errands in
-remote parts for most whose obstinacy was to be feared. He had ordered
-down to the House all the King’s servants who had a vote there: had
-discharged easily of their sins many who were wavering in the matter of
-the subsidy; and had made as imposing an appearance as possible on going
-to Blackfriars to “reason” with the members who believed that the people
-could not pay the money. And what was the result?
-
-“Please it your Grace to understand that there hath been the greatest
-and sorest hold in the House that ever was seen, I think, in any
-Parliament. There was such a hold that the House was like to be
-dissevered, but that the Speaker did mediate graciously between your
-Highness and the greedy Jews that bearded me.”
-
-“Mediate, I trow! And why not command, as beseems the Speaker?” cried
-the King, glancing angrily on More.
-
-“In his bearing the Speaker is meek,” observed Wolsey, with some malice
-in his tone. “His words were dutiful, and the lowness of his obeisance
-an ensample to the whole Parliament.”
-
-“And what were his acts?”
-
-“He informed me that the Commons are not wont to be reasoned with by
-strangers, and that the splendour of my poor countenance must needs
-bewilder their deliberations.”
-
-“So be it. We have deliberated too long and too deeply for our royal
-satisfaction on the matter of filling our coffers. We expect our Commons
-to fill them without deliberation. Wherefore this repining and delay?”
-asked Henry of More.
-
-"Because your Grace’s true servants would that this vast sum should be
-well and peaceably levied, without grudge——"
-
-“We trouble not ourself about the grudge, if it be surely paid,”
-interrupted Henry.
-
-“We would that your Grace should not lose the true hearts of your
-subjects, which we reckon a greater treasure than gold and silver,”
-replied the Speaker.
-
-“And why lose their hearts? Do they think that no man is to fare well,
-and be well clothed but themselves?”
-
-“That is the question they have this morning asked of the Lord
-Cardinal,” replied More, “when my Lord discoursed to them of the wealth
-of the nation, as if it were a reason why they should make such a grant
-as your Majesty’s ancestors never heard of. One said that my lord had
-seen something of the wealth of the nation, in the form of a beautiful
-welcoming of your Majesty; but of the nation’s poverty, it is like the
-Lord Cardinal has seen less than he may see, if the benevolence is
-finally extorted.”
-
-“And who is this one that beards my Lord Cardinal?”
-
-“The one who spoke of the nation’s poverty is one who hath but too much
-cause to do so from what his own eyes have seen within his own
-household. He is one Richard Read, an honourable alderman of London,
-once wealthy, but now, as I said, entitled, through his service to your
-Majesty, to discourse of poverty.”
-
-“Marry, I would that he would discourse of our poverty as soothly as of
-his own. Has he been bearded by France? Is he looking for an invasion
-from Scotland? Has he relations with his Holiness, and enterprizes of
-war to conduct?”
-
-“Such were the questions of my Lord Cardinal. He seems to be fully
-possessed of your Grace’s mind.”
-
-“And what was the answer?”
-
-“That neither had the late King left to him in legacy nearly two
-millions of pounds. Neither had he levied a benevolence last year, nor
-borrowed twenty thousand pounds of the city of London. If he had, there
-might not now perhaps have been occasion for alleging such high
-necessity on the King’s part, nor for such high poverty expressed, not
-only by the commoners, citizens, and burgesses, but by knights,
-esquires, and gentlemen of every quarter.”
-
-“And the Lord Cardinal did not allow such argument of poverty. How did
-he rebuke the traitor for his foul sayings?”
-
-“If it like your Grace, this Richard Read was once this day ordered to
-be committed to prison, but he is still abroad. He regards himself and
-his family as despoiled by never having rest from payments; and he cares
-not greatly what he does. This is also the condition of so many that it
-would not be safe to offer vengeance till the cuckoo time and hot
-weather (at which time mad brains are most wont to be busy) shall be
-overpassed.”
-
-The King rose in great disturbance, and demanded of Wolsey why he had
-not sent to a distance all who were likely to dispute the subsidy he
-desired. Wolsey coolly assured him that this was an easier thing to
-speak of than to do, as there were but too large a number who desired
-that no more conquests should be sought in France, urging that the
-winning thereof would be more chargeful than profitable, and the keeping
-more chargeful than the winning. Audacious dogs were these, the Cardinal
-declared; but it must be wary whipping till some could be prevented from
-flying at the throat, while another was under the lash. But the day
-should come when those who ought to think themselves only too much
-honoured in being allowed to supply the King’s needs, should leave off
-impertinently speculating on the infinite sums which they said had been
-already expended in the invading of France, out of which nothing had
-prevailed in comparison with the costs. If his Majesty would but turn
-over his vengeance to his poor councillor, the pernicious knaves should
-be made to repent.
-
-“Of the salt tears they have shed, only for doubt how to find money to
-content the King’s Highness?” inquired More.
-
-“Their tears shall hiss hot upon their cheeks in the fire of my
-vengeance,” cried the King. “Send this traitor Read to prison, that he
-may answer for his words. If he keeps his head, he shall come out with
-such a hole in his tongue as shall make him for ever glad to keep it
-within his teeth.”
-
-The Cardinal endeavoured to divert the King’s rage. He was as willing as
-his royal master that this honest alderman Read should suffer for his
-opposition to the exactions of the Government; but he knew that to send
-one murmurer to prison at this crisis would be to urge on to rebellion
-thousands of the higher orders, to head the insurrections which were
-already beginning in the eastern counties. He now hastened to assure
-Henry that there had not been wanting some few men besides himself to
-rebuke the stupidity of those who complained of the impoverishment of
-the nation, and to explain that that which was given to the King for his
-needs was returned by the King in the very supplying of those needs.
-
-“After there had been much discourse,” said he, “of what straits the
-nation would be in if every man had to pay away his money, and how the
-whole frame and intercourse of things would be altered if tenants paid
-their landlords in corn and cattle, so that the landlords would have but
-little coin left for traffic, so that the nation itself, for want of
-money, must grow in a sort barbarous and ignoble, it was answered that
-the money was only transferred into the hands of others of the same
-nation, as in a vast market where, though the coin never lies still, all
-are accommodated.”
-
-“I will use despatch,” observed More, “to write this comforting news to
-a cousin-german of mine, who is in sore distress because some rogues
-have despoiled him of a store of angels that he had kept for his
-daughter’s dower. I will assure him that there can be no impoverishment
-in his case.”
-
-Wolsey had not finished his speech. He had something still to say about
-how much more precious was the wealth which descended from the throne in
-streams of royal bounty and custom than when it went up from the rude
-hands of his unworthy subjects. His Majesty only accepted for a time, in
-order to return what he had received, embalmed with his grace, and
-rendered meet to be handled with reverential ecstacy.
-
-“Further good tidings for my cousin-german,” observed More. "If the
-money which has been taken from him be spent in purchasing his corn and
-cattle, he has nothing to complain of. His injury is repaired, and his
-daughters are dowered. O rare reparation,—when the gentleman is no
-worse, and the rogues are the better by the corn and cattle!"
-
-“At this rate, O rare philosopher!” said Henry, “the way to make men
-rich is to rob them; and to tax a people is to give them wealth. We have
-wit, friend, to spy out jest from earnest. But who reports of these salt
-tears?”
-
-“Does not every report from the eastern counties savour of them?”
-inquired More. “And in the west a like pernicious rheum distils in the
-cold wind of poverty. And so it is in the north and south, though this
-be the cuckoo time, and the season of hot weather.”
-
-“It is the Parliament, your Grace may be assured,” interrupted the
-Cardinal,—“it is your right trusty Lower House that devises sad tales of
-salt tears to move such pitiful hearts as that of the Honourable
-Speaker. If your Grace had seen how enviously they looked upon my poor
-train, as we entered Blackfriars, and how they stood peevishly mute in
-the House, each one like your Highness’s natural under disfavour, your
-Grace would marvel that the tales are not of tears of blood.”
-
-“Patience!” said More. “The next east wind will bring such rumours as
-you speak of. They are already abroad.”
-
-“The Parliament shall not puff them in our face,” cried Henry. “On our
-conscience, we have borne with our faithless Commons too long. They
-shall have another seven years to spy out the poverty that is above
-them, while we will not listen to their impertinent tales of that which
-is below. My Lord Cardinal, let them be dispersed for seven years.”
-
-“And then,” observed More, "they will have time to learn what your
-Majesty’s wisdom already discerns,—how much more fatal is poverty in
-high places than in low. The contemptible handicraftsman can, while
-consuming his scanty food of to-day, produce the scanty food of to-
-morrow; while the gallants of your Grace’s court,—right noble gentlemen
-as they are,—must beg of the low artizan to repair to-morrow that which
-they magnificently consume to-day."
-
-“My nobles are not beggars,” cried the King. “They pay for their pomp.”
-
-"Most true. And their gold is right carefully cleansed from the rust of
-salt tears, which else might blister their delicate fingers. But were it
-not better for them to take their largess from the people in corn and
-meat and wine at once,—since the coin which they handle hath been
-already touched by the owner of land who has taken it as rent, or, worse
-still, by the merchant as his gains, or, worst of all, by the labourer
-as his hire?"
-
-Wolsey assured the Speaker that his suggestion would soon be acted upon.
-The people were so shy of making payments from their rent, their
-profits, and their wages, that it would be necessary to take for the
-King’s service the field of the landowner, the stock of the merchant,
-and——
-
-“And what next? For then there will be left no hire for the labourer.”
-
-The Cardinal grew suddenly oracular about the vicissitudes of human
-affairs, and the presumption of looking into futurity. The Speaker bowed
-low under the holy man’s discourse, and the King was reassured.
-
-“I marvel that your wit does not devise some pastimes that may disperse
-the ill-blood of the people,” said Henry. “Dull homes cloud men’s minds
-with vapours; and your Grace is full strict with them in respect of
-shows and outward apparel. My gallants have not ceased their jests on
-the aged man from whom your Grace’s own hands stripped the crimson
-jacket decked with gauds. And there is talk of many pillories being
-wanted for men who have worn shirts of a finer texture than suits your
-Grace’s pleasure.”
-
-“Is there not amusement enough for the people,” asked More, "in gazing
-at the Lord Cardinal’s train? For my part, I know not elsewhere of so
-fine a pageant. If they must have more, the legate is coming, and who
-has measured the scarlet cloth which is sent over to Calais to clothe
-Campeggio’s train? This will set the people agape for many days,—if they
-can so spy out my Lord Cardinal’s will about their apparel as to dare to
-come forth into the highway."
-
-The King thought the pleasure of beholding a pageant did not last long
-enough effectually to quiet the popular discontents. He wished that
-fields could be opened for the sports of the young men, and that
-companies of strolling mummers could be supported at the royal expense.
-His miraculous bounty and benignity were extolled so that it was a pity
-the people themselves were not by to say Amen; but it was feared the
-said people must take the will for the deed, as, in the present
-condition of the exchequer, it was impossible to afford the
-appropriation of the ground, the outlay upon it to render it fit for the
-proposed objects, or the annual expense of keeping it up. The people
-must remain subject to blue devils, and liable to rebellion, till the
-Scots were beaten off, and the French vanquished; till the Pope had done
-with Henry, and the court had been gratified with a rare new masque, for
-which an extraordinary quantity of cloth of gold, and cloth of silver,
-and cloth of taffety, and cloth of bodkin, would be necessary; to say
-nothing of the forty-four varieties of jewelled copes of the richest
-materials which had been ordered for the chaplains and cunning singing-
-men of the royal chapel. The king’s dignity must be maintained;—a truth
-in which More fully agreed. What kingly dignity is, he was wont to
-settle while pacing one of the pleached alleys of his garden as the sun
-was going down in state, presenting daily a gorgeous spectacle which
-neither Wolsey nor Campeggio could rival, and which would have been
-better worth the admiration of the populace if their eyes had not been
-dimmed by hunger, and their spirits jarred by tyranny into a dissonance
-with nature. More was wont to ridicule himself as a puppet when decked
-out with his official trappings; and he was apt to fancy that such holy
-men as the future Defender of the Faith and the anointed Cardinal must
-have somewhat of the same notions of dignity as himself.—There were also
-seasons when he remembered that there were other purposes of public
-expenditure besides the maintenance of the outward state of the
-sovereign. His daughters and he had strengthened one another in the
-notion that the public money ought to be laid out in the purchase of
-some public benefit; and that it would not be unpardonable in the nation
-to look even beyond the DEFENCE of their territory, and ask for an ample
-administration of JUSTICE, a liberal provision for PUBLIC WORKS, and
-perhaps, in some wiser age, an extensive apparatus of NATIONAL
-EDUCATION. He was wont to look cheerfully to the good Providence of God
-in matters where he could do nothing; but he was far from satisfied that
-the enormous sums squandered in damaging the French availed anything for
-the defence of the English; or that those who most needed justice were
-the most likely to obtain it, as long as it must be sought with a
-present in the hand which was not likely to be out-bid; or that the
-itinerant justice-mongers of his day were of much advantage to the
-people, as long as their profits and their credit in high quarters
-depended on the amount they delivered in as amercements of the guilty.
-He was not at all sure that the peasant who had done his best to satisfy
-the tax-gatherer was the more secure against the loss of what remained
-of his property, whenever a strong oppressor should choose to wrest it
-from him. He could see nothing done in the way of public works by which
-the bulk of the tax-payers might be benefited. Indeed, public
-possessions of this kind were deteriorating even faster, if possible,
-than private property; and the few rich commoners, here and there, who
-dreaded competition in their sales of produce, might lay aside their
-fears for the present. Competition was effectually checked, not only by
-the diminution of capital, but by the decay of roads and bridges which
-there were no funds to repair. As for education, the only chance was
-that the people might gain somewhat by the insults offered to the
-Church. The unroofed monks might carry some slight scent of the odour of
-learning from the dismantled shrines; but otherwise it seemed designed
-that the people’s acquaintance with polite learning should be confined
-to two points which were indeed very strenuously taught,—the King’s
-supremacy and the Cardinal’s infallibility.
-
-More was not much given to reverie. While others were discoursing, his
-ready wit seldom failed to interpose to illustrate and vivify what was
-said. His low, distinct utterance made itself heard amidst the laughter
-or the angry voices which would have drowned the words of almost any one
-else; and the aptness of his speech made him as eagerly sought in the
-royal circle as sighed for by his own family, when he was not at hand to
-direct and enlighten their studies in their modest book-chamber. He was
-much given to thought in his little journeys to and from town, and in
-his leisure hours of river-gazing, and star-exploring; but he seldom
-indulged his meditations in company. Now, however, while Henry and
-Wolsey laid their scheme for swearing every man of the King’s subjects
-to his property, and taxing him accordingly,—not only without the
-assistance of Parliament, but while the Commons were dispersed for seven
-years,—More was speculating within himself on the subject of kingly
-dignity.
-
-“One sort of dignity,” thought he, "consists with the purposes of him
-who regards his people as his servants, and another with the wishes of
-him who regards himself as the servant of his people. As for the
-monarchs who live in times when the struggle is which party shall be a
-slave, God’s mercy be on them and their people! Their throne moves, like
-an idol’s car, over the bones of those who have worshipped or defied
-their state; and they have fiends to act as mummers in their pageants,
-and defiled armour for their masques, and much dolorous howling in the
-place of a band of minstrels. In such days the people pay no tax,
-because the monarch has only to stretch forth his hand and take. It is a
-better age when the mummers are really merry, and minstrels make music
-that gladdens the heart like wine; and gaudy shows make man’s face to
-shine like the oil of the Hebrews: but it would be better if this
-gladdening of some made no heart heavy; and this partial heaviness must
-needs be where childish sports take place; and the gawds of a court like
-ours are but baby sports after all. When my little ones made a pageant
-in the meadow, there were ever some sulking, sooner or later, under the
-hedge or within the arbour, while there was unreasonable mirth among
-their fellows in the open sunshine,—however all might be of one accord
-in the study and at the board. And so is it ever with those who follow
-childish plays, be they august kings, or be they silly infants. But it
-is no April grief that clouds the faces of the people while their King
-is playing the master in order afterwards to enact the buffoon. They
-have spent more upon him than the handful of meadow-flowers that
-children fling into the lap to help the show; and they would do worse in
-their moods than pull these gay flowers to pieces, after the manner of a
-freakish babe. Remembering that it is the wont of honest masters to pay
-their servants, they are ill content to pay the very roofs from off
-their houses, and the seed from out of their furrows, to be lorded over,
-and for the greatest favour, laid at the gate to see Dives pass in and
-out in his purple and fine linen. It is ill sport for Dives to whistle
-up his dogs to lick the poor man’s sores when so black a gulf is opening
-yonder to swallow up his pomp. May be, his brethren that shall come
-after him shall be wiser; as all are apt to become as time rolls on. The
-matin hour decks itself gorgeously with long bright trains, and flaunts
-before men’s winking eyes, as if all this grandeur were not made of
-tears caught up for a little space into a bright region, but in their
-very nature made to dissolve and fall in gloom. But then there is an end
-of the folly, and out of the gloom step forth other hours, growing
-clearer, and more apt to man’s steady uses; so that when noon is come,
-there is no more pranking and shifting of purple and crimson clouds, but
-the sun is content to light men perfectly to their business, without
-being worshipped as he was when gayer but less glorious. Perhaps a true
-sun-like king may come some day, when men have grown eagle-eyed to hail
-such an one; and he will not be for calling people from their business
-to be dazzled with him; nor for sucking up all that the earth will
-yield, so that there may be drought around and gloom overhead. Rather
-will he call out bubbling springs from the warm hill-side, and cast a
-glister over every useful stream, to draw men’s eyes to it; and would
-rather thirst himself than that they should. Such an one will be content
-to leave it to God’s hand to fill him with glory, and would rather kiss
-the sweat from off the poor man’s brow, than that the labourer should
-waste the precious time in falling on his knees to him to mock him with
-idolatry. Though he be high enough above the husbandman’s head, he is
-not the lord of the husbandman, but in some sort his servant; though it
-be a service of more glory than any domination.—If he should chance
-vainly to forget that there sitteth One above the firmament, he may find
-that the same Maker who once stayed the sun for the sake of one
-oppressed people may, at the prayer of another, wheel the golden throne
-hurriedly from its place, and call out constellations of lesser lights,
-under whose rule men may go to and fro, and refresh themselves in peace.
-The state of a king that domineers is one thing; and the dignity of a
-king that serves and blesses is another; and this last is so noble, that
-if any shall arise who shall not be content with the office’s
-simplicity, but must needs deck it with trappings and beguile it with
-toys, let him be assured that he is as much less than man as he is more
-than ape; and it were wiser in him to rummage out a big nut to crack,
-and set himself to switch his own tail, than seek to handle the orb and
-stretch out the sceptre of kings."
-
-It was a day of disappointments to Henry. Not only were his Commons
-anything but benevolently disposed towards furnishing the benevolence
-required, but the young nun would not come to be married to the friar.
-The gallants who had been sent for her now appeared before the King with
-fear and trembling, bearing sad tidings of the sturdiness of female
-self-will. They had traced the maiden to the house of her father, one
-Richard Read, and had endeavoured to force her away with them,
-notwithstanding her own resistance, and her mother’s and sister’s
-prayers and tears. In the midst of the dispute, her father had returned
-from Blackfriars, surrounded by the friends who had joined him in
-declining the tribute which they were really unable to pay. Heated by
-the insolent words which had been thrown at them by the Cardinal, and
-now exasperated by the treatment his daughter had met with, Read had
-dropped a few words,—wonderfully fierce to be uttered in the presence of
-courtiers in those days,—which were now repeated in the form of a
-message to the King:—Read had given his daughter to be the spouse of
-Christ, and had dowered her accordingly; and it did not now suit his
-paternal ambition that she should be made the spouse of a houseless
-friar for the bribe of a dowry from the King; this dowry being actually
-taken from her father under the name of a benevolence to aid the King’s
-necessities. He would neither sell his daughter nor buy the King’s
-favour.
-
-Henry was of course enraged, and ordered the arrest of the entire
-household of Richard Read; a proceeding which the Cardinal and the
-Speaker agreed in disliking as impolitic in the present crisis. Wolsey
-represented to the King that there could be no failure of the subsidy if
-every recusant were reasoned with apart, instead of being placed in a
-position where his malicious frowardness would pervert all the rest of
-the waverers. If good words and amiable behaviour did not avail to
-induce men to contribute, the obstinate might be brought before the
-privy council; or, better still, be favoured with a taste of military
-service. Henry seized upon the suggestion, knowing that such service as
-that of the Border war was not the pleasantest occupation in the world
-for a London alderman, at the very time when his impoverished and
-helpless family especially needed his protection. He lost sight, for the
-time, as Wolsey intended that he should, of the daughter, while planning
-fresh tyranny towards her father. The church would be spared the scandal
-of such a jesting marriage as had been proposed, if, as the Cardinal
-hoped, the damsel should so withdraw herself as not to be found in the
-morning. The religious More had aspirations to the same effect.
-
-“It is a turning of nature from its course,” said he, “to make night-
-birds of these tender young swallows; but they are answerable who scared
-them from beneath their broad eaves when they were nestled and looked
-for no storm. Pray the Lord of Hosts that he may open a corner in some
-one of his altars for this ruffled fledgeling!”
-
-Little did the gentle daughters of More suspect for what message they
-were summoned to produce writing materials, and desired to command the
-attendance of a king’s messenger. Their father was not required to be
-aiding and abetting in this exercise of royal tyranny. Perceiving that
-his presence was not wished for, he stepped into his orchard, to refresh
-himself with speculations on his harvest of pippins, and to hear what
-his family had to say on his position with respect to the mighty
-personages within.
-
-“I marvel,” said his wife to him, “that you should be so wedded to your
-own small fancies as to do more things that may mislike his Grace than
-prove your own honest breeding. What with your undue haste to stretch
-your limbs in your bedesman’s apparel, and your simple desire to mere
-fruit and well-water, his Highness may right easily content himself that
-his bounty can add nothing to your state.”
-
-“And so shall he best content me, dame. Worldly honour is the thing of
-which I have resigned the desire; and as for worldly profit, I trust
-experience proveth, and shall daily prove, that I never was very greedy
-therein.”
-
-Mr. Roper saw no reason for the lady’s rebuke or apprehensions. When did
-the King’s Highness ever more lovingly pass his arm round any subject’s
-neck than this day, when he caressed the honourable Speaker of his
-faithful Commons?
-
-“There is full narrow space, Mr. Roper, between my shoulders and my head
-to serve as a long resting-place for a king’s caress. Trust me, if he
-had been a Samson, and if it had suited the pleasure of his Grace, he
-would at that moment have plucked my head from my shoulders before you
-all. It may be well for plain men that a king’s finger and thumb are not
-stronger than those of any other man.”
-
-Henry and his poor councillor now appeared from beneath the porch, the
-one not the less gay, the other not the less complacent, for their
-having together made provision for the utter ruin of a family whose only
-fault was their poverty. A letter had been written to the general
-commanding on the Scotch border, to desire that Richard Read, now sent
-down to serve as a soldier at his own charge, should be made as
-miserable as possible, should be sent out on the most perilous duty in
-the field, and subjected to the most severe privations in garrison, and
-used in all things according to the sharp military discipline of the
-northern wars, in retribution for his refusing to pay money which he did
-not possess. The snare being thus fixed, the train of events laid by
-which the unhappy wife and daughters were to be compelled first to
-surrender their only guardian, then to give their all for his ransom
-from the enemy, and, lastly, to mourn him slain in the field,—this
-hellish work being carefully set on foot, the devisers thereof came
-forth boldly into God’s daylight, to amuse themselves with innocence and
-flatter the ear of beauty till the sun went down, and then to mock the
-oppressed citizens of London with the tumult of their pomp and revelry.
-Perhaps some who turned from the false glare to look up into the pure
-sky might ask why the heavens were clear,—where slept the thunderbolt?
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
- SECOND AGE.
-
-
-It was not Sunday morning, yet the bells of every steeple in London had
-been tolling since sunrise; the shops were all shut; and there was such
-an entire absence of singers and jugglers, of dancing bears and
-frolicking monkeys in the streets, that it might seem as if the late
-Protector had risen from his grave, and stalked abroad to frown over the
-kingdom once more. Nothing this morning betokened the reign of a merry
-monarch. No savour of meats issued from any house; no echo of music was
-heard; the streets were as yet empty, the hour of meeting for worship
-not having arrived, and there being no other cause for coming abroad.
-There was more than a sabbath purity in the summer sky, unstained by
-smoke as it could never be but on the day of a general fast in summer.
-The few boats on the river which brought worshippers from a distance to
-observe the solemn ordinance in the city, glided along without noise or
-display. There was no exhibition of flags; no shouting to rival barks;
-no matching against time. The shipping itself seemed to have a mournful
-and penitential air, crowded together in silence and stillness. The
-present had been an untoward season, as regarded the nation’s
-prosperity, in many respects; and when the court and the people were
-heartily tired of the festivities which had followed the King’s
-marriage, they bethought themselves of taking the advice of many of
-their divines, and deprecating the wrath of Heaven in a solemn day of
-entreaty for rain, and for vengeance on their enemies.
-
-The deepest gloom was not where, perhaps, it would have been looked for
-by the light-minded who regarded such observances as very wholesome for
-the common people, but extremely tiresome for themselves. Dr. Reede, a
-young Presbyterian clergyman, the beloved pastor of a large congregation
-in London, came forth from his study an hour before the time of service,
-with a countenance anything but gloomy, though its mild seriousness
-befitted the occasion. Having fully prepared himself for the pulpit, he
-sought his wife. He found her with her two little children, the elder of
-whom was standing at a chair, turning over the gilt leaves of a new
-book; while the younger, a tender infant, nestled on its mother’s bosom
-as she walked, in a rather hurried manner, from end to end of the
-apartment.
-
-“What hath fallen out, Esther? Is the babe ill-disposed?” asked the
-husband, stooping to look into the tiny face that peeped over Esther’s
-shoulder.
-
-“The child is well, my love; and the greater is my sin in being
-disturbed. I will be so no more,” she continued, returning to the seat
-where the child was playing with the book; “I will fret myself no more
-on account of evildoers, as the word of God gives commandment.”
-
-“Is it this which hath troubled you?” asked her husband, taking up the
-volume,—the new Book of Common Prayer,—of which every clergyman must
-shortly swear that he believed the whole, or lose his living. “We knew,
-Esther, what must be in this book. We knew that it must contain that
-which would make it to us as the false gospel of the infidels; and, thus
-knowing, there is no danger in the book.”
-
-And he took it up, and turned over its pages, presently observing, with
-a smile,—
-
-“Truly, it is a small instrument wherewith to be turned out of so large
-a living. I could lay my finger over the parts which make a gulf between
-my church and me which I may not pass. The leaven is but little; but
-since there it must lie, it leavens the whole lump.”
-
-“Do you think?” inquired Esther, hesitatingly; "is it supposed that many
-will——that your brethren regard the matter as you do?"
-
-“It will be seen in God’s own time how many make a conscience of the
-oaths they take in his presence. For me it is enough that I believe not
-all that is in this book. If it had been a question whether the King
-would or would not compel the oath, I could have humbled myself under
-his feet to beseech him to spare the consciences which no King can bind;
-but as it is now too late for this, we must cheerfully descend to a low
-estate among men, that we may look up before God.”
-
-“Without doubt; I mean nought else; but when, and where shall we go?”
-
-"In a few days, unless it should please God to touch the hearts that he
-hath hardened,—in a few days we must gird ourselves to go forth."
-
-“With these little ones! And where?”
-
-“Where there may be some unseen to bid us God speed! Whether the path
-shall open to the right hand or to the left, what matters it?”
-
-"True: if a path be indeed opened. But these little ones——"
-
-“God hath sent food into the heart of wildernesses whence there was no
-path; and the Scripture hath a word of the young ravens which cry.”
-
-"It hath. I will never again, by God’s grace, look back to the estate
-which my father lost for this very King. But, without reckoning up that
-score with him, it moves the irreligious themselves to see how he guides
-himself in these awful times,—toying in his palace-walks this very
-morning, while he himself puts sackcloth on the whole nation. Edmund is
-just come in from seeing the King standing on the green walk in the
-palace-garden, and jesting with the Jezebel who ever contrives to be at
-that high, back window as he passes by. I would the people knew of it,
-that they might avoid the scandal of interceding for a jester whom they
-suppose to be worshipping with them, while he is thinking of nothing so
-little all the time as worshipping any but his own wantons."
-
-“If Edmund can thus testify, it is time that I were enlarging my prayer
-for the King. If for the godly we intercede seven times, should it not
-for the ungodly be seventy-times seven?”
-
-Mrs. Reede’s brother Edmund could confirm the account. In virtue of an
-office which he held, he had liberty to pass through the palace-garden.
-The sound of mirth, contrasting strangely with the distant toll of
-bells, had drawn him into the shade; and he had seen Charles throwing
-pebbles up to a window above, where a lady was leaning out, and pelting
-him with sweetmeats in return. It was hoped that the queen, newly
-married, and a stranger in the country, was in some far-distant corner
-of the palace, and that she did not yet understand the tongue in which
-Charles’s excesses were wont to be openly spoken of. The Corporations of
-London had not yet done feasting and congratulating this most unhappy
-lady; but all supposed matter of congratulation was already over. The
-clergy of the kingdom prayed for her as much from compassion as duty;
-and her fate served them as an unspoken text for their discourses on the
-vanity of worldly greatness. The mothers of England dropped tears at the
-thought of the lonely and insulted stranger; and their daughters sighed
-their pity for the neglected bride.
-
-Edmund now came into the room, and his appearance cost Dr. Reede more
-sighs than his own impending anxieties. Though Edmund held a place of
-honour and trust at the Admiralty, he had been in possession of it too
-short a time to justify such a display as he had of late appeared
-disposed to make. On this day of solemn fast, he seemed to have no
-thought of sackcloth, but showed himself in a summer black bombazin
-suit, trimmed very nobly with scarlet ribbon; a camlet cloak, lined with
-scarlet; a prodigious periwig, and a new beaver.
-
-“What news do you bring from the navy-yards?” inquired Dr. Reede. “Is
-there hope of the ill spirit being allayed, and the defence of the
-country cared for?”
-
-“In truth, but little,” replied Edmund, "unless it become the custom to
-pay people their dues. What with the quickness of the enemy, and the
-slowness of the people to work without their wages, and the chief men
-running after the shows and pastimes of the court, and others keeping
-their hands by their sides through want of the most necessary materials,
-and the waste that comes of wanton idleness,—it is said by certain wise
-persons that it will be no wonder if our enemies come to our very shores
-to defy us, and burn our shipping in our own river."
-
-°How is it that you obtain your dues, Edmund? This neat suit would be
-hardly paid for out of your private fortune."
-
-“It is time for me to go like myself,” said Edmund, conceitedly, “liable
-as I am to stand before the King or the Duke. I might complain, like the
-rest, that but little money is to be seen; but, with such as I have, I
-must do honour to the King’s Majesty, whom I am like to see to-day.”
-
-Mrs. Reede had so strong an apprehension that Edmund would soon be
-compelled, like others, to forego his salary, that she saw little that
-was safe and honourable in spending his money on dress as fast as it
-came in. But that the servants of government were infected with the
-vanities of the government, they would prepare for the evil days which
-were evidently coming on, instead of letting their luxury and their
-poverty grow together.
-
-“So is it ever, whether the vices of government be austere or pleasant,”
-observed Dr. Reede. “The people must needs look and speak sourly when
-Oliver grew grave; and now, they have suddenly turned, as it were, into
-a vast troop of masqueraders, because the court is merry. But there is a
-difference in the two examples which it behoves discerning men to
-perceive. In respect of religious gravity, all men stand on the same
-ground; it is a matter between themselves and their God. But the
-government has another responsibility, in regard to its extravagance: it
-is answerable to men; for government does not earn the wealth it spends;
-and each act of waste is an injury to those who have furnished the
-means, and an insult to every man who toils hard for scanty bread.”
-
-Government could not be expected to look too closely into these matters,
-Edmund thought. All governments were more or less extravagant; and he
-supposed they always would be.
-
-“Because they live by the toil of others? If so, there is a remedy in
-making the government itself toil.”
-
-“I would fain see it,” cried Mrs. Reede. “I would fain see the King
-unravelling his perplexed accounts; and the Duke bestirring himself
-among the ships and in the army, instead of taking the credit of what
-better men do; and the court ladies ordering their houses discreetly,
-while their husbands made ready to show what service they had done the
-nation. Then, my dear, you would preach to a modest, and sober, and
-thankful people, who, with one heart, would be ready to listen.”
-
-“It is but too far otherwise now,” replied Dr. Reede. "Of my hearers,
-some harden their hearts in unchristian contempt of all that is not as
-sad as their own spirits; and others look to see that the cloak hangs
-from the shoulder in a comely fashion as they stand. At the same time,
-there is more need of the word the more men’s minds are divided. This is
-the age when virtue is oppressed, and the selfish make mirth. Of those
-that pray for the King’s Majesty, how many have given him their
-children’s bread, and mourn and pine, while the gay whom they feed have
-no thought for their misery! Edmund himself allows that the shipwrights
-go home without their wages, while he who works scarce at all disports
-himself with his bombazin suit and scarlet ribbons. Can I preach to them
-as effectually as if they were content, and he——"
-
-“What?” inquired Edmund.
-
-"In truth, Edmund, I could less find in my heart to admonish these
-defrauded men for stealing bread from the navy-stores for their hungry
-children, than you for drawing their envious eyes upon you. The large
-money that pays your small service, whose is it but theirs,—earned
-hardly, paid willingly to the King, to be spent in periwigs and silk
-hose? Shall men who thus injure and feel injury in their worldly labour,
-listen with one heart and mind to the Sabbath word? Too well I know
-that, from end to end of this kingdom, there is one tumult of bad
-passions which set the Scriptures at nought. The lion devours the lamb;
-the innocent know too well the sting of the asp; and as often as a
-fleece appears, men spy for the wolf beneath it. What chance hath the
-word when it falls upon ground so encumbered?"
-
-Edmund pleaded that, though he had done little yet to merit his public
-salary, he meant to do a great deal. This very day, the King had
-appointed some confidential person to confer with him on an affair in
-which his exertions would be required. Things had come to such a pass
-now in the management of the army and navy, that something must be done
-to satisfy the people; and Edmund hoped, that if he put on the
-appearance of a rising young man, he might soon prove to be so, and gain
-honour in proportion to the profit he was already taking by
-anticipation.
-
-It must be something very pressing that was wanted of Edmund, if no day
-would serve but that of this solemn fast. It did not occur to the Reedes
-that it must be a day of ennui to Charles and his court, at any rate,
-and that there would be an economy of mirth in transacting at such a
-time business which must be done.
-
-There was a something in Edmund’s countenance and gait as he went to
-worship this morning which made his sister fear that, during the
-service, he must be thinking more of the expected interview at the
-palace than of her husband’s eloquent exposition of how the sins of the
-government were the sins of the nation, and how both merited the
-chastisement which it was the object of this day’s penitence to avert.
-The sermon was a bold one; but the nation was growing bold under a sense
-of injury, and of the inconsistency of the government. The time was past
-when plain speakers could be sent off to the wars, for the purpose of
-being impoverished, made captive, or slain. Dr. Reede knew, and bore in
-mind, the fate of a certain ancestor of his, and returned thanks in his
-heart for such an advance in the recognition of social rights as allowed
-him to be as honest as his forefathers, with greater impunity. He
-resolved now to do a bolder thing than he had ever yet meditated,—to
-take advantage of Edmund’s going to the palace to endeavour to obtain an
-interview with the King, and intercede for the Presbyterian clergy, who
-must, in a few days, vacate their livings, or violate their consciences,
-unless Charles should be pleased to remember, before it was too late,
-that he had passed his royal word in their favour. Charles was not
-difficult of access, particularly on a fast-day; the experiment was
-worth trying.
-
-The streets were dull and empty as the brothers proceeded to the river-
-side to take boat for the palace. There was a little more bustle by the
-stairs whence they meant to embark, the watermen having had abundance of
-time this day to drink and quarrel. The contention for the present God-
-send of passengers would have run high, if Edmund had not known how to
-put on the manner of a personage of great importance; a manner which he
-sincerely thought himself entitled to assume, it being a mighty
-pleasure, as he declared to his companion, to feel himself a greater man
-in the world than he could once have expected for himself, or any of his
-friends for him. He felt as if he was lord of the Thames, while, with
-his arms folded in his cloak, and his beaver nicely poised, he looked
-abroad, and saw not another vessel in motion on the surface of the broad
-river.
-
-This solitude did not last very long. Dr. Reede had not finished
-contemplating the distant church of St. Paul’s, which Wren, the artist,
-had been engaged to repair. He was speculating on the probable effect of
-a cupola (a strange form described, but not yet witnessed, in England);
-he was wondering what induced Oliver to take the choir for horse-
-barracks, when so many other buildings in the neighbourhood might have
-served the purpose better; he was inwardly congratulating his
-accomplished young friend on his noble task of restoring,—not only to
-beauty, that which was dilapidated,—but to sanctity that which was
-desecrated. Dr. Reede was thinking of these things, rather than
-listening to the watermen’s account of a singular new vessel, called a
-yacht, which the Dutch East India Company had presented to the King,
-when a barge was perceived to be coming up the river with so much haste
-as to excite Edmund’s attention and stop the boatman’s description.
-
-"It is Palmer, bringing news, I am sure,—what mighty haste!" observed
-Edmund, turning to order the boatmen to make for the barge. "News from
-sea,—mighty good or bad, I am certain. We will catch them on their way."
-
-“Palmer, the King’s messenger! He will not tell his news to us, Edmund.”
-
-“He will, knowing me, and finding where I am going.”
-
-Palmer did tell his news. His Majesty had sustained a signal defeat
-abroad. The doubt was where to find the King or the Duke, there being a
-rumour that they were somewhere on the river. Palmer had witnessed a
-sailing-match between two royal boats, some way below Greenwich, but he
-could not make out that any royal personages were on board.
-
-“Here they are, if they be on the river!” exclaimed Edmund, inquiring of
-the watermen if the extraordinary vessel just coming in sight was not
-the yacht they had described. It was, and the King must be on board, as
-no one else would dream of taking pleasure on the river this day.
-
-Edmund managed so well to put himself in the way of being observed while
-Palmer made his inquiries, that both were summoned on board the yacht.
-The clergyman looked so unlike anybody that the lords and gentlemen
-within had commonly to do with, that he was not allowed to remain
-behind. They seemed to have some curiosity to see whether a presbyterian
-parson could eat like other men, for they pressed him to sit down to
-table with them,—a table steaming with the good meats which had been
-furnished from the kitchen-boat which always followed in the rear of the
-yacht. Dr. Reede simply observed that it was a fast day; and could not
-be made to perceive that being on the water and in high company absolved
-him from the observances of the day. Every body else seemed of a
-different opinion; for, not content with the usual regale of fine music
-which attended the royal excursions, the lords and gentlemen present had
-made the fiddlers drunk, and set them in that state to sing all the foul
-songs with which their professional memories could furnish them.
-Abundance of punch was preparing, and there was some Canary of
-incomparable goodness which had been carried to and from the Indies. Two
-of the company were too deeply interested in what they were about to
-care for either music or Canary at the moment. Charles and the Duke of
-Ormond were rattling the dice-box, having staked 1000_l._ on the cast.
-It was of some consequence to the King to win it, as he had, since
-morning, lost 23,000_l._ in bets with the Duke of York and others about
-the sailing match which they had carried on while the rest of the nation
-were at church, deprecating God’s judgments.
-
-Having lost his 1000_l._, he turned gaily to the strangers, as if
-expecting some new amusement from them. He made a sign to Edmund (whom
-he knew in virtue of his office), that he would hold discourse with him
-presently in private, and then asked Dr. Reede what the clergy had
-discovered of the reasons for the heavy judgment with which the kingdom
-was afflicted.
-
-Dr. Reede believed the clergy were more anxious to obtain God’s mercy
-than to account for his judgments.
-
-“You are deceived, friend. Our reverend dean of Windsor has been
-preaching that it is our supineness in leaving the heads of the
-regicides on their shoulders that has brought these visitations on our
-people. He discoursed largely of the matter of the Gibeonites, and
-exhorted us to quick vengeance.”
-
-Dr. Reede could not remember any text which taught that wreaking
-vengeance on man was the way to propitiate God. He could not suppose
-that this disastrous defeat abroad would have been averted by butchering
-the regicides in celebration of the King’s marriage, as had been
-proposed.
-
-The King had not yet had time to comprehend the news of this defeat. On
-hearing of it, he seemed in a transient state of consternation;
-marvelled, as his subjects were wont to do, what was to become of the
-kingdom at this rate; and signified his wish to be left with the
-messenger, the Duke of York alone remaining to help him to collect all
-the particulars. The company accordingly withdrew to curse the enemy,
-wonder who was killed and who wounded, and straightway amuse themselves,
-the ladies with the dice-box, the gentlemen with betting on their play,
-and all with the feats of a juggler of rare accomplishments, who was at
-present under the patronage of one of the King’s favourites.
-
-When Palmer had told his story and was dismissed, Edmund was called in,
-and, at his own request, was attended by his brother-in-law,—the
-discreet gentleman of excellent learning, who might aid the project to
-be now discoursed of. The King did, at length, look grave. He supposed
-Edmund knew the purpose for which his presence was required.
-
-“To receive his Highness the Duke’s pleasure respecting the navy
-accounts that are to be laid before Parliament.”
-
-“That is my brother’s affair,” replied the King. "I desire from
-you,—your parts having been well commended to me,—some discreet
-composure which shall bring our government into less disfavour with our
-people than it hath been of late."
-
-Edmund did not doubt that this could easily be done.
-
-"It must be done; for in our present straits we cannot altogether so do
-without the people as for our ease we could desire. But as for the
-ease,—there is but little of it where the people are so changeable. They
-have forgot the flatteries with which they hailed us, some short while
-since, and give us only murmurs instead. It is much to be wished that
-they should be satisfied in respect of their duty to us, without which
-we cannot satisfy them in the carrying on of the war."
-
-The Duke of York thought that his Majesty troubled himself needlessly
-about the way in which supplies were to be obtained from the people.
-Money must be had, and speedily, or defeat would follow defeat; for
-never were the army and navy in a more wretched condition than now. But
-if his Majesty would only exert his prerogative, and levy supplies for
-his occasions as his ancestors had done, all might yet be retrieved
-without the trouble of propitiating the nation. The King persisted
-however in his design of making his government popular by means of a
-pamphlet which should flatter the people with the notion that they kept
-their affairs in their own hands. It was the shortest way to begin by
-satisfying the people’s minds.
-
-And how was this to be done? Dr. Reede presumed to inquire. Charles,
-thoroughly discomposed by the news he had just heard, in addition to a
-variety of private perplexities, declared that nothing could be easier
-than to set forth a true account of the royal poverty. No poor gentleman
-of all the train to whom he was in debt could be more completely at his
-wit’s end for money than he. His wardrobeman had this morning lamented
-that the King had no handkerchiefs, and only three bands to his neck;
-and how to take up a yard of linen for his Majesty’s service was more
-than any one knew.
-
-Edmund glanced at his own periwig in the opposite mirror, and observed
-that it would be very easy to urge this plea, if such was his Majesty’s
-pleasure.
-
-“Od’s fish! man, you would not tell this beggarly tale in all its
-particulars! You would not set the loyal housewives in London to offer
-me their patronage of shirts and neckbands!”
-
-“Besides,” said the Duke, “though it might be very easy to tell the tale
-of our poverty, it might not be so easy to make men believe it.”
-
-Dr. Reede here giving an involuntary sign of assent, the King would know
-what was in his mind. Dr. Reede, as usual, spoke his thoughts. The
-people, being aware what sums had within a few months fallen into the
-royal treasury, would be slow to suppose that their king was in want of
-necessary clothing.
-
-“What! the present to the Queen from the Lord Mayor and Aldermen? That
-was but a paltry thousand pounds.”
-
-Dr. Reede could not let it be supposed that any one expected the King to
-benefit by gifts to his Queen.
-
-Charles looked up hastily to see if this was intended as a reproach, for
-he had indeed appropriated every thing that he could lay his hands on of
-what his dutiful subjects had offered to his Queen, as a compliment on
-her marriage. The clergyman looked innocent, and the King went on,—
-
-"And as for her portion,—twenty such portions would not furnish forth
-one war, as the people ought to know. And there is my sister’s portion
-to the Prince of Orleans soon to be paid. If the people did but take the
-view we would have them take of our affairs at home and abroad, we
-should not have to borrow of France, and want courage to tell our
-faithful subjects that we had done so."
-
-Edmund would do his best to give them the desired opinions. Dr. Reede
-thought it a pity they could not be by the King’s side,—aye, now on
-board this very boat, to understand and share the King’s views, and thus
-justify the government. As a burst of admiration at some of the
-juggler’s tricks made itself heard in the cabin at the very moment this
-was said, the King again looked up to see whether satire was intended.
-
-Edmund supposed that one object of his projected pamphlet was to
-communicate gently the fact of a secret loan of 200,000 crowns from
-France, designed for the support of the war in Portugal, but so
-immediately swallowed up at home that it appeared to have answered no
-more purpose than a loan of so many pebbles, while it had subjected the
-nation to a degradation which the people would not have voluntarily
-incurred. This communication was indeed to be a part of Edmund’s task;
-but there was a more important one still to be made. It could not now
-long remain a secret that Dunkirk was in the hands of the French——
-
-“Dunkirk taken by the French!” exclaimed Dr. Reede, not crediting what
-he heard. “We are lost indeed, if the French make aggressions like
-this.”
-
-“Patience, brother!” whispered Edmund. “There is no aggression in the
-case. The matter is arranged by mutual agreement.”
-
-Dr. Reede looked perplexed, till the Duke carelessly told him that
-Dunkirk had been sold to the French King. It was a pity the nation must
-know the fact. They would not like it.
-
-“Like it! Dunkirk sold! Whose property was Dunkirk?” asked Dr. Reede,
-reverting to the time when Oliver’s acquisition of Dunkirk was
-celebrated as a national triumph.
-
-“We must conduct the bargains of the nation, you know,” replied the
-Duke. “In old times, the people desired no better managers of their
-affairs than their kings.”
-
-“’Tis a marvel then that they troubled themselves to have Parliaments.
-Pray God the people may be content with what they shall receive for a
-conquest which they prized! Some other goodly town, I trust, is secured
-to us; or some profitable fishing coast; or some fastness which shall
-give us advantage over the enemy, and spare the blood of our soldiers.”
-
-“It were as well to have retained Dunkirk as taken any of these in
-exchange,” said the King;—a proposition which Dr. Reede was far from
-disputing. “Our necessities required another fashion of payment.”
-
-"In money!—and then the taxes will be somewhat lightened. This will be a
-welcome relief to the people, although their leave was not asked. There
-is at least the good of a lifting up of a little portion of their
-burdens."
-
-“Not so. We cannot at present spare our subjects. This 400,000_l._ come
-from Dunkirk is all too little for the occasions of our dignity. Our
-house at Hampton Court is not yet suitably arranged. The tapestries are
-such that the world can show nothing nobler, yet the ceilings, however
-finely fretted, are not yet gilt. The canal is not perfected, and the
-Banqueting House in the Paradise is yet bare.”
-
-“The extraordinary wild fowl in St. James’s Park did not fly over
-without cost,” observed the Duke.
-
-"Some did. The melancholy water-fowl from Astracan was bestowed by the
-Russian Ambassador; and certain merchants who came for justice brought
-us the cranes and the milk-white raven. But the animals that it was
-needful to put in to make the place answerable to its design,—the
-antelopes, and the Guinea goats, and the Arabian sheep, and others,—cost
-nearly their weight of gold. Kings cannot make fair bargains."
-
-“For aught but necessaries,” interposed the divine.
-
-"Or for necessaries. Windsor is exceedingly ragged and ruinous. It will
-occupy the cost of Dunkirk to restore it——"
-
-“According to the taste of the ladies of the court,” interrupted the
-Duke. “They will have the gallery of horns furnished with beams of the
-rarest elks and antelopes that there be in the world. Then the hall and
-stairs must be bright with furniture of arms, in festoons, trophy-like:
-while the chambers have curious and effeminate pictures, giving a
-contrast of softness to that which presented only war and horror.”
-
-“Then there is the demolishing of the palace at Greenwich, in order to
-build a new one. Besides the cost of rearing, we are advised so to make
-a cut as to let in the Thames like a square bay, which will be
-chargeable.”
-
-“And this is to be ordered by Parliament? or are the people to be told
-that a foreign possession of theirs is gone to pay for water-fowl and
-effeminate pictures?”
-
-“Then there is the army,” continued the King. “I have daily news of a
-lack of hospitals, so that our maimed soldiers die of the injuries of
-the air. And this very defeat, with which the city will presently be
-ringing, was caused by the failure of ammunition. And not unknowingly;
-for this young clerk had the audacity to forewarn us.”
-
-“Better have sold the troops and their general alive into the hands of
-the enemy, than send them into the field without a sufficiency of
-defence,” cried Dr. Reede.
-
-“So his Majesty thinks,” observed the Duke; “and has therefore done
-wisely in taking a goodly sum from the Dutch to delay the sailing of the
-fleet for the east till the season is too far gone for action. Nay! is
-it not a benefit for the King to have the money he so much needs, and
-for the lives to be saved which must be otherwise lost for want of the
-due ammunition?”
-
-Dr. Reede was too much affected at this gross bartering away of the
-national honour to trust himself to speak; Edmund observed that he
-should insist, in his pamphlet, on the exceeding expensiveness of war in
-these days, in comparison of the times when men went out, each with his
-bow and arrow, or his battle-axe, and his provision of food furnished at
-his own charge. Since gunpowder had been used, and engines of curious
-workmanship,—since war had become a science, it had grown mightily
-expensive, and the people must pay accordingly, as he should speedily
-set forth.
-
-“Setting forth also how the people should therefore be the more
-consulted, before a strife is entered upon,” said the clergyman.
-
-“Nay,” said the Duke, “I am for making the matter short and easy. An
-expensive army we must have; and a troublesome Parliament to boot is too
-much. I am for getting up the army into an honourable condition, and
-letting down the Parliament. His Majesty will be persuaded thereto in
-time, when he has had another taste of the discontents of his changeable
-people.”
-
-Dr. Reede imagined that such an innovation might not be the last change,
-if the nation should have more liking to be represented by a Parliament
-than ruled by an army. But the Duke did not conceal his contempt for the
-new fashion of regarding the people and their representatives. There was
-no telling what pass things might come to when monarchs were reduced to
-shifts to get money, and the people fancied that they had a right to sit
-in judgment on the use that was made of it. He seemed to forget that he
-had had a father, and what had become of him, while he set up as an
-example worthy of all imitation the spirited old king, bluff Harry, that
-put out his hand and took what he pleased, and amused himself with
-sending grumblers to seek adventures north, south, east, or west. If the
-King would take his advice, he would show the nation an example of the
-first duty of a king,—to protect his people from violence,—in such a
-fashion as should leave the Parliament little to say, even if allowed to
-meet. Let his Majesty bestow all his paternal care on cherishing his
-army.
-
-“It is true,” said Dr. Reede, “that a ruler’s first duty is to give
-security to his people; and in the lowest state in which men herd
-together, the danger is looked for from without; and the people who at
-home gather food, each for himself, go out to war, each with his own
-weapon. Their ruler does no more than call them out, and point the way,
-and lead them home. Afterwards, when men are settled on lands, and made
-the property of the rich and strong, they go out to war at the charge of
-their lords, and the King has still nothing to do but to command them.
-Every man is or may be a warrior; and it is for those who furnish forth
-his blood and sinews, his weapons and his food, to decide about the
-conduct of the war. But, at a later time, when men intermingle and
-divide their labour at will, and the time of slavery is over, every man
-is no longer a warrior, but some fight for hire, while those who hire
-them stay at their business at home.”
-
-“Or at their pleasures,” observed the Duke, glancing at his brother.
-
-“Under favour, no,” replied Dr. Reede. "It is not, I conceive, the King
-that hires the army to do his pleasure, but the people who hire it for
-their defence, the King having the conduct of the enterprises. If the
-will of the nation be not taken as to their defence,—if they should
-perchance think they need no armed defence, and lose their passion for
-conquest, whence must come the hire of their servants,—the soldiery?"
-
-“They must help themselves with it,” replied the Duke, carelessly.
-
-"And if they find a giant at every man’s door,—a lion in the path to
-every one’s field?" said the divine.
-
-“Thy learning hath perplexed thee, man. These are not the days of
-enchantment, of wild beasts, and overtopping men.”
-
-“Pardon me; there are no days when men may not be metamorphosed, if the
-evil influence be but strong enough. There are no days when a man’s
-household gods will not make a giant of him for the defence of their
-shrine. There are no days when there are not such roarings in the path
-of violence as to sink the heart of the spoiler within him.”
-
-“Let but the art of war improve like other arts,” said the Duke, “and
-our cannon will easily out-roar all your lions, and beat down the giants
-you speak of.”
-
-“Rather the reverse, I conceive,” said the plain-spoken clergyman. “The
-expense of improved war is aggravated, not only in the outfit, but in
-the destruction occasioned. The soldier is a destructive labourer, and,
-as such, will not be overlong tolerated by an impoverished nation, whose
-consent to strife is the more necessary the more chargeable such strife
-becomes to them. Furthermore, men even now look upon blood as something
-more precious than water, and upon human souls as somewhat of a higher
-nature than the fiery bubbles that our newly-wise chemists send up into
-the ether, to wander whither no eye can follow them. Our cannon now
-knock down a file where before a battle-axe could cleave but a single
-skull. Men begin already to tremble over their child’s play of human
-life; and if the day comes when some mighty engine shall be prepared to
-blow to atoms half an army, there may be found a multitude of stout
-hearts to face it; but where is he who will be brave enough to fire the
-touch-hole, even for the sure glory of being God’s arch enemy?”
-
-“Is this brother of thine seeking a patent for some new device of war-
-engines?” inquired Charles of the divine. “Methinks your discourse seems
-like a preface to such a proposal. Would it were so! for patents aid the
-exchequer.”
-
-“Would it were so!” said the Duke, “for a king might follow his own will
-with such an engine in his hand.”
-
-“Would it were so!” said Dr. Reede, “for then would the last days of war
-be come, and Satan would find much of his occupation gone. Edmund, if
-thou wilt invent such an engine as may mow down a host at a blow, I will
-promise thee a triumph on that battle-field, and the intercession of
-every church in Christendom. Such a deed shall one day be done. War
-shall one day be ended; but not by you, Edmund. Men must enact the wild
-beast yet a few centuries longer, to furnish forth a barbarous show to
-their rulers, till men shall call instead for a long age of fasting, and
-sackcloth, and ashes.”
-
-“Meantime,” said Edmund, “they call impertinently for certain accounts
-of the charges of our wars which his Majesty is over gracious in
-permitting them to demand.”
-
-“Do they think so?”
-
-“They cannot but see,” said the Duke, “by the way his Majesty gave his
-speech to the Parliament, that he desires no meddling from them.”
-
-“And how did I speak?” asked the King. “Did I not assure the Commons
-that I would not have asked for their subsidies if I had not had need;
-and that through no extravagance of my own, but the disorder of the
-times? And is not that much to say when I am daily told by my gentlemen
-of the palace, and others who know better still, that my will is above
-all privilege of Parliament or city, and that I have no need to account
-to any at all? How did I speak?”
-
-"Only as if your wits were with your queen, or some other lady, while
-the words of your speech lay under your eye. Some words your Commons
-must needs remember, from the many times they were said over; but
-further——"
-
-“Pshaw!” cried the King, vexed at the description he had himself asked
-for. “This learned divine knows not what our Parliament is made of.
-There are but two seamen and about twenty merchants, and the rest have
-no scruple in coming drunk to the house, and making a mockery of the
-country people when they are sober. How matters it how I give my speech
-to them?”
-
-“They are indeed not the people,” observed Reede; "and I forewarn your
-Majesty that their consent is not the consent of the people; and that
-however they may clap the hands at your Majesty’s enterprises and
-private sales, the people will not be the less employed in looking back
-upon Oliver——"
-
-“And forward to me?” inquired the Duke, laughing.
-
-"And forward to the time when the proud father shall not be liable to
-see his only son return barefoot and tattered from a war where he has
-spilled his blood; or a daughter made the victim, first of violence, and
-then of mockery, through the example of the King’s court; and no justice
-to be had but by him who brings the heaviest bribe:—forward to the time
-when drunken cavaliers shall be thought unfitting representatives of a
-hungering people; and when the money which is raised by the toils of the
-nation shall be spent for the benefit of the nation; when men shall
-inquire how Rome fell, and why France is falling; and shall find that
-decay ensues when that which is a trust is still pertinaciously used as
-prerogative, and when the profusion in high places is answerable to the
-destitution below!"
-
-“Nay; I am sure there is destitution in high places,” cried the King,
-“and luxury in the lower. I see not a few ladies outshining my Queen in
-gallantry of jewels; and if you like to look in at certain low houses
-that I could tell you of, you will see what vast heaps of gold are
-squandered in deep and most prodigious gaming.”
-
-“True; and therein is found the excuse of the court; that whenever the
-nation is over-given to luxury, the court is prodigious in its
-extravagance.”
-
-“Hold, man!” cried the King. “Wouldst thou be pilloried for a libel?”
-
-“Such is too common a sight to draw due regard,” coolly replied the
-divine. “Libels are in some sort the primers of the ignorant multitude,
-scornfully despised for their ignorance. There are not means wherewith
-to give the people letters in an orderly way; so that they gape after
-libels first, and then they gape to see them burned by the hangman; and
-learn one sort of hardness by flinging stones at a pilloried wretch, and
-another sort of hardness by watching the faces of traitors who pray
-confidently on the scaffold, and look cheerfully about them on the
-hangman’s hellish instruments; and all this hardness, which may chance
-to peril your Majesty, is not always mollified by such soft things as
-they may witness at the theatres which profanely give and take from the
-licentious times. If the people would become wise, such is the
-instruction that awaits them.”
-
-“Methinks you will provoke us to let the people see how cheerfully you
-would look on certain things that honest gazers round a scaffold shrink
-from beholding. It were better for you to pray for me from your pulpit,
-like a true subject of Christ and your King.”
-
-“Hitherto I have done so; but it pleases your Majesty that from my
-pulpit I should pray no longer. Alas!” cried he, casting a glance
-through the window as he perceived that the vessel drew to land, “alas!
-what a raging fire! And another! And a third!”
-
-“The bonfires for the victory,” quietly observed Edmund.
-
-Dr. Reede was forbidden to throw any doubts abroad on the English having
-gained a splendid victory. The King had ordered these bonfires at the
-close of the fast day. They were lighted, it appeared, somewhat
-prematurely, as the sun yet glittered along the Thames; but this only
-showed the impatient joy of the people. The church bells were evidently
-preparing to ring merry peals as soon as the last hour of humiliation
-should have expired. The King’s word had gone forth. It suited his
-purposes to gain a victory just now; and a victory he was determined it
-should be, to the last moment. When the people should discover the
-cheat, the favours occasioned by it would be past recall. They could
-only do what they had done before,—go home and be angry.
-
-This was all that now remained for Dr. Reede, the King’s landing being
-waited for by a throng of persons whose converse had little affinity
-with wise counsel. Certain courtiers, deplorably _ennuyés_ by the king’s
-absence, sauntered about the gardens, and looked abroad upon the river,
-in hopes of his approach. An importation of French coxcombs from
-Dunkirk, in fantastical habits, was already here to offend the eyes of
-the insulted English people. It was not till Edmund (who was not
-dismissed with Dr. Reede) began to exhibit at home the confidence with
-which he had been treated, that Dr. Reede and his lady became aware how
-much these accomplished cadets could teach Charles on the part of their
-own extravagant master. Louis the Fourteenth knew of more ways of
-raising money than even Charles. He had taken to creating offices for
-sale, for which the court ladies amused themselves in making names. The
-pastime of divining their object and utility was left to the people who
-paid for them. They read, or were told,—and it made a very funny
-riddle,—that the inspector of fresh-butter had kissed hands on his
-appointment; that the ordainer of faggots had had the honour of dining
-with his Majesty; and that some mighty and wealthy personage had been
-honoured with the office of licenser of barber-wig-makers.
-
-The example of Louis in this and other matters was too good not to be
-followed by one in circumstances of equal necessity. Edmund was not by
-any means to delay the “discreet composure” by which the minds of the
-people were to be propitiated and satisfied. He was to laud to the
-utmost the Duke’s conduct of naval affairs,—(whose credit rested on the
-ability of his complaisant Clerk of the Acts.) He was to falsify the
-navy accounts as much as could be ventured, exaggerating the expenses
-and extenuating the receipts, while he made the very best of the
-results. He was to take for granted the willingness of a grateful people
-to support the dignity of the sovereign, while he insinuated threats of
-the establishment of a civil list,—(a thing at that time unknown.) All
-this was to be done not the less for room being required for eloquence
-about the sale of Dunkirk, and the loan from France, and the bribe from
-Holland;—monuments of kingly wisdom all, and of paternal solicitude to
-spare the pockets of the people. All this was to be done not the less
-for the bright idea which had occurred to some courtier’s mind that the
-making of a few new ambassadors might bring money to his Majesty’s
-hands. There was more than one man about the court who was very willing
-to accept of the dignity of such an office, and to pay to the power that
-appointed him a certain fair proportion of the salary which the people
-must provide. One gentleman was accordingly sent to Spain, to amuse
-himself in reading Calderon, and another to some eastern place where he
-might sit on cushions, and smoke at the expense of the people of
-England, and to the private profit of their monarch. Amidst all these
-clever arrangements, nothing was done for the _security_ or the
-_advancement_ of the community. No new measures of _defence_; no better
-administration of _justice_; no advantageous _public works_, no
-apparatus of _education_, were originated; and, as for the _dignity of
-the sovereign_, that was a matter past hope. But by means of the
-treacherous sale of the nation’s property and of public offices, by
-bribes, by falsification of the public accounts, breaches of royal
-credit were for the present stopped, and the day of reckoning deferred.
-If the Duke of York could have foreseen from whom and at what time this
-reckoning would be demanded, he might have been less acute in his
-suggestions, and less bold in his advice; and both he and the King might
-have employed to less infamous purpose this day of solemn fast and
-deprecation of God’s judgments. But, however true might be Dr. Reede’s
-doctrine that the sins of government are the sins of the nation, it
-happened in this case, as in a multitude of others, that the accessaries
-to the crime offered the atonement, while the principals made sport of
-both crime and atonement.
-
-The false report about the late engagement had gained ground
-sufficiently to answer the temporary purposes of those who spread it. As
-Dr. Reede took his way homewards, bonfires gleamed reflected in the
-waters of the river, and exhibited to advantage the picturesque fronts
-of the wooden houses in the narrow streets, and sent trains of sparks up
-into the darkening sky, and illuminated the steeples that in a few more
-seasons were to fall into the surging mass of a more awful
-conflagration. On reaching the comfortable dwelling which he expected to
-be soon compelled to quit, he gave himself up, first to humiliation on
-account of the guilt against which he had in vain remonstrated, and then
-to addressing to the King a strong written appeal on behalf of the
-conscientious presbyterian clergy, who had, on the faith of the royal
-word, believed themselves safe from such temptations to violate their
-consciences as they were now suffering under.
-
-On a certain Saturday of the same month might be seen the most
-magnificent triumph that ever floated on the Thames. It far exceeded the
-Venetian pageantry on occasion of espousing the Adriatic. The city of
-London was entertaining the King and Queen; and the King was not at all
-sorry that the people were at the same time entertained, while he was
-making up his mind whether, on dissolving the Parliament, he should call
-another which would obligingly give him the dean and chapter lands, or
-whether he should let it be seen, according to the opinion of his
-brother, that there was no need of any more parliaments. As he sat
-beside his Queen, in an antique-shaped vessel, under a canopy of cloth
-of gold, supported by Corinthian pillars, wreathed with flowers,
-festoons, and garlands, he meditated on the comfort that would accrue,
-on the one hand, from all his debts being paid out of these church
-lands, and, on the other, from such an entire freedom from
-responsibility as he should enjoy when there should be no more speeches
-to make to his Commons, and no more remonstrances to hear from them,
-grounded on dismal tales of the distresses of his people which he had
-rather not hear. The thrones and triumphal arches might do for the
-corporation of London to amuse itself with, and for the little boys and
-girls on either side of the river to stare at and admire: but it was in
-somewhat too infantine a taste to please the majority of the gazers
-otherwise than as a revival of antique amusements. The most idly
-luxurious about the court preferred entertainments which had a little
-more meaning in them,—dramatic spectacles, pictures, music, and fine
-buildings and gardens. War is also a favourite excitement in the middle
-age of refinement; and the best part of this day’s entertainments, next
-to the music, was the peals of ordnance both from the vessels and the
-shore, which might prettily remind the gallants, amidst their mirth and
-their soft flirtations, of the cannonading that was going on over the
-sea. Within a small section of the city of London, many degrees of mirth
-might be found this day.
-
-In the royal barge, the Queen cast her “languishing and excellent eyes”
-over the pageant before her, and returned the salutations of the
-citizens who made obeisances in passing, and now and then exchanged a
-few words with her Portuguese maids of honour, the King being too
-thoughtful to attend to her;—altogether not very merry.
-
-In the barge immediately following, certain of the King’s favourites
-made sport of the Queen’s foretop,—turned aside very strangely,—of the
-monstrous fardingales and olivada complexions and unagreeable voices of
-her Portuguese ladies,—and of the old knight, her friend, whose bald
-pate was covered by a huge lock of hair, bound on by a thread, very
-oddly. The King’s gravity also made a good joke; and there was an
-amusing incident of a boat being upset, which furnished laughter for a
-full half hour. A family of Presbyterians, turned out of a living
-because the King had broken his word, were removing their chattels to
-some poor place on the other side of the river, and had unawares got
-their boat entangled in the procession, and were run down by a royal
-barge. It was truly laughable to see first the divine, and then his
-pretty daughters, with their dripping long hair, picked up from the
-water, while all their little wealth went to the bottom: and yet more so
-to witness how, when the King, of his bounty, threw gold to the
-sufferers, the clergyman tossed it back so vehemently that it would have
-struck the Duke of York on the temple, if he had not dexterously
-contrived to receive it on the crown of his periwig. It was a charming
-adventure to the King’s favourites;—very merry.
-
-In the mansions by the river side, certain gentlemen from the country
-were settling themselves, in preparation for taking office under the
-government. They and their fathers had been out of habits of business
-for fourscore years, and were wholly incapable of it, and knew
-themselves to be so; the best having given themselves to rural
-employments, and others to debauchery; but, as all men were now declared
-incapable of employment who had served against the King, and as these
-cavaliers knew that their chief business was to humour his Majesty, they
-made themselves easy about their responsibilities, looked after their
-tapestries, plate, and pictures, talked of the toils and cares of
-office, and were—very merry.
-
-In the narrow streets in their neighbourhood might be hourly seen
-certain of the King’s soldiers, belted and armed, cursing, swearing, and
-stealing; running into public-houses to drink, and into private ones to
-carry off whatever they had a mind to; leaving the injured proprietors
-disposed to reflect upon Oliver, and to commend him,—what brave things
-he did, and how safe a place a man’s own house was in his time, and how
-he made the neighbour princes fear him; while now, a prince that came in
-with all the love, and prayers, and good-liking of his people, who had
-given greater signs of loyalty and willingness to serve him with their
-estates than ever was done by any people, could get nothing but contempt
-abroad, and discontent at home; and had indeed lost all so soon, that it
-was a miracle how any one could devise to lose so much in so little
-time. These housekeepers, made sage by circumstance, looked and spoke
-with something very little like mirth. Those who had given occasion to
-such thoughts were, meantime,—very merry.
-
-It was not to these merry men, wise people thought, that the King must
-look for help in the day of war, but to the soldiers of the republican
-army, who had been declared by act of parliament for evermore incapable
-of serving the kingdom. But where were these men to be found, if wanted?
-Not one could be met with begging in the streets to tell how his
-comrades might be reached. One captain in the old parliament army was
-turned shoemaker, and another a baker. This lieutenant was now a
-haberdasher; that a brewer. Of the common soldiers, some were porters,
-and others mechanics in their aprons, and husbandmen in their frocks,
-and all as quiet and laborious as if war had never been their
-occupation. The spirits of these men had been trained in contentment
-with God’s providences; and though, as they sat at the loom and the
-last, they had many discontented thoughts of man’s providences, it was
-clear to observers among the King’s own servants that he was a thousand
-times safer from any evil meant by them than from his own unsatisfied
-and insatiable cavaliers. While the staid artizans who had served under
-Cromwell looked out upon the river as the procession passed, they
-dropped a few words in their families about the snares of the Evil One,
-and were—not very merry.
-
-Within hearing of the ordnance in which the young gallants of the court
-delighted was an hospital, meagrely supplied with the comforts which its
-inmates required, where languished, in a crowded space, many of the
-soldiers and sailors who had been set up to be fired at while it was
-known in high quarters that there was such a deficiency of ammunition as
-must deprive the poor fellows of the power of effectual self-defence.
-This fact had become known, and it had sunk deep into the souls of the
-brave fellows who, maimed, feverish, and heart-sore,—in pain for want of
-the proper means of cure, and half suffocated from the number of their
-fellow-sufferers, listened with many a low-breathed curse to the peals
-of ordnance that shook their crazy place of refuge, and forswore mirth
-and allegiance together.
-
-Within hearing of the shouts and of a faint occasional breath of music
-from the royal band, were certain of the two thousand clergy, who were
-to resign their livings the next morning, and whose families were taking
-advantage of the neighbourhood being deserted for the day to remove
-their furniture, and betake themselves to whatever place they might have
-found wherein the righteous could lay his head. Dr. Reede was one of
-these. He had been toiling all day with his wife, demolishing the _tout
-ensemble_ of comfort which had been formed under her management. He was
-now, while she was engaged with her infants, sitting alone in his study
-for the last time. He was doing nothing; for his business in this place
-was closed. He let his eye be amused by the quick flickering in the
-breeze of the short, shining grass of his little court, which stretched
-up to his window. The dark formal shrubs, planted within the paling by
-his own hand, seemed to nod to him as the wind passed over their heads.
-The summer flowers in the lozenge-shaped parterres which answered to
-each other, danced and kissed unblamed beneath the Rev. Doctor’s gaze.
-All looked as if Nature’s heart were merry, however sad might be those
-of her thoughtful children. The Doctor stepped out upon the grass. There
-was yet more for him to do there. He had, with his own hands, mowed the
-plat, and clipped the borders; and the little hands of the elder of his
-two children had helped to pluck out the very few weeds that had sprung
-up. But the weather had been warm and dry, and, in order to leave the
-place in the beauty desired by its departing tenant, it was necessary to
-water the flower-court. It was not a very inspiriting thing to glance at
-doors and windows standing wide, displaying the nakedness of an empty
-dwelling within: so the Doctor hastened to the well to fill his bucket.
-Mrs. Reede heard the jingle of the chain, and showed herself at an upper
-window, while the child that could walk made her way down stairs with
-all speed to help papa, and wonder at her own round little face in the
-full bucket. Mrs. Reede was glad that her husband had turned out of his
-study, though she could not bring herself to sympathize in his anxiety
-to leave all in a state of the greatest practicable beauty. If a gale
-had torn up the shrubs, or the hot sun of this summer day had parched
-the grass and withered the flowers, she did not think she could have
-been sorry. But it was very well that her husband had left his study
-open for the further operations necessary there. This room had remained
-the very last in its entireness. The time was now come when she must
-have asked her husband to quit his chair and desk, and let his books be
-dislodged. She would make haste to complete the work of spoliation, and
-she hoped he would make a long task of watering the flower-court.
-
-He was not likely to do that when he had once perceived that she and one
-of her damsels were lifting heavy loads of books, while another was
-taking care of the baby. He hastened to give their final draught to his
-favourite carnations, placed a chair for Esther on the grass just
-outside the window, where she might sit with the infant, and, while
-resting herself, talk to him as he finished her laborious task.
-
-Mrs. Reede did not remember to have ever started so incessantly at the
-sound of guns; and the air-music of the window-harp that she had seen in
-the pavilions of great men’s gardens had never come so mournfully over
-her spirit as the snatches of harmony that the wind now brought from the
-river to make her infant hold up his tiny finger while his sister said
-“hark!” She was, for once, nervous. It might be seen in her flushed face
-and her startled movements; and the poor baby felt it in the absence of
-the usual ease with which he was held and played with. A sharp sudden
-cry from him called the attention of the doctor from his task. In a
-moment, mamma’s grief was more tumultuous than the infant’s.
-
-“O, my child! my child! I have hurt my child! my own little baby!” cried
-she, weeping bitterly, and of course redoubling the panic of the little
-one.
-
-“My dear love,” said her husband, trying to prove to her that the baby
-had only been frightened by a jerk; “my dear love, you alarm yourself
-much more than the child. See!” and he held up in the evening sunlight
-the brass plate on which his study lamp stood. Its glittering at once
-arrested the infant’s terrors: but not so soon could the tears of the
-mother be stopped.
-
-“My love, there must be some deeper cause than this trifling accident,”
-said he, sitting down on the low window sill beside her chair. “Is it
-that you have pent up your grief all day, and that it will have way?”
-
-Mrs. Reede had a long train of sad thoughts to disclose, in the
-intervals of her efforts to compose herself. The children, she said,
-amused themselves as if nothing was the matter; while who could tell
-what they might think hereafter of being thus removed from a fair and
-honourable home, and carried where—O, there was no telling what lot
-might await them! If everybody had thought the sacrifice a right one,
-she could have gone through it without any regret: but some of her
-husband’s oldest friends thought him wrong——
-
-“Towards God, or towards you, my love?”
-
-"O, towards these children, I suppose. They dare not think that you
-would do anything wrong towards me. I am sure I only think of you first,
-and then of the children. How you have preached here, with the souls of
-your people in your hand, to mould them as you would! and now, you must
-go where your gift and your office will be nothing; and you will be only
-like any other man. And, as for the children, we do not know——"
-
-“When the bird leads forth her brood from their warm nest, because
-springes are set round about them, does she know what shall befall them?
-There may be hawks abroad, or a sharp wind that may be too strong for
-their scarce-plumed wings. Or they may gather boldness from their early
-flight, and wave in the sunshine on a high bough, and pour out there a
-grateful morn and even song from season to season. The parent bird knows
-not: but she must needs take them from among the springes, however soft
-may be the nest, and cool the mossy tree. We know more than this parent
-bird; even that no sparrow falleth unheeded to the ground.”
-
-Mrs. Reede’s tears began to flow again as another faint breath of music
-reached her.
-
-“Is it that you will be more composed when the sounds of mirth, to us
-unseasonable, have passed away?” asked Dr. Reede, smiling.
-
-“It does seem hard that our spoilers should be making merry while we are
-going forth we know not whither,” said the wife.
-
-“How would it advantage the mother bird that the fowlers should lie
-close while she plumes her pinions to be gone? Will she stoop in her
-flight for all their mirth? As for us, music may be to us a rare treat
-henceforth. Let our ears be pleased with it, whencesoever it may come.”
-
-And he made the children hearken, till they clapped their little hands,
-and their mother once more smiled. Her husband then said to her,
-
-“If this mirth be ungodly, there is no reason why we should be more
-scandalized at it than on any other day, only because we ourselves are
-not merry. If it be innocent, we should thank God that others are
-happier than ourselves. Yet I am not otherwise than happy in the inward
-spirit. I shall never repent this day.”
-
-"They say you will, when——But it is not as if we stood alone. It is said
-that there will be a large number of the separated."
-
-“Thank God! not for the companionship to ourselves, so much as for the
-profit to his righteousness. It will be much to meet here and there eyes
-that tell back one’s own story, and to clasp hands that are undefiled by
-the world’s lucre. But it is more to know that God’s truth is so hymned
-by some thousand tongues this night, that the echo shall last till weak
-voices like ours shall be wanted no more.”
-
-“Let us go,” cried Mrs. Reede, dispersing her last tears, and lifting up
-one child while the other remained in her husband’s arms. He took
-advantage of her season of strength, and resolved to convey her at once
-to the humble lodging which was to be their present abode, and to return
-himself to see that all was done. He detained her only to join him in a
-brief thanksgiving for the happiness they had enjoyed there since their
-marriage day, and to beseech a blessing on him who was to succeed to the
-dwelling and to the pastoral office. Courageous as was Mrs. Reede’s
-present mood, she was still at the mercy of trifles. The little girl’s
-kitten would not bear them company. It had been removed twice, and had
-returned, and now was not to be found. It had hidden itself in some
-corner whence it would come out when they were gone; and the child
-departed in a very unchristian state of distress. Her mamma found that
-both she and her child had yet to learn Dr. Reede’s method of not
-fretting because of evil-doers.
-
-Though he could not trouble himself with personal resentments, no man
-could more strenuously rebuke and expose guilt,—especially guilt in high
-places, which is so much worse than other guilt, in as far as it
-desolates a wider region of human happiness. In his farewell discourse,
-the next day, he urged some considerations on behalf of society far more
-eagerly than he ever asked anything for himself.
-
-“It is no new thing,” said he, "for men to be required to set their hand
-to that which they believe not, or to affirm that they believe that
-which they understand no more in the expression than in the essence. It
-is no new thing for a mistake to be made as to such protestation, so
-that if a man say he believes that a sown field will bear corn, though
-he knows not the manner of its sprouting nor the order of its ripening,
-he shall be also required to believe a proposition in an unknown tongue,
-whereof he knows not even what it is that should be proposed. It is no
-new thing that men should start at such a requisition, as a sound-witted
-man would start from the shows and babble of the magician; or as a
-modest wise man would shrink from appointing the way to a wandering
-comet, lest he should unawares bring the orderly heavens to a mighty
-wreck. It is no new thing for the searchers of God’s ways to respect his
-everlasting laws more than man’s presumptuous bidding: or for Him whom
-they serve so to change the face of things to them as to make his
-extremest yoke easy, and his heaviest burden light:—to cast a shade over
-what must be foregone,—whether it be life itself, or only the goodly
-things in which maybe too much of our life hath been found,—or to beam a
-light from his own highest heaven on the wilderness-path, which may seem
-horrid to those who are not to tread it, but passable enough to such as
-must needs take this way to their everlasting home. These things being
-not new, are a sign to us recusants of this day not to be in anywise
-astonished or dismayed, and also not to allow a dwelling upon the part
-we have taken, as if it were any mighty merit to trust to God’s
-providence, which waits only to be trusted, or required any marvellous
-faith to commit ourselves to Christ’s word, which, if it be Christ’s,
-must stand when the heavens themselves shall be dissolved. It behoves us
-rather to look to things less clear than these, and more important than
-the putting forth of a few of Christ’s meanest shepherds from their
-folds;—for whom the chief Shepherd may perhaps find other occasions;
-and, if not, they may be well content to lie down among the sheep,
-remembering that he once had not where to lay his head. The true
-occasion of this day is not to break one another’s hearts with griefs
-and tears, (which may but puff out or quench the acceptable fire of the
-altar;) but so to fan the new-kindled flame as that it may seize and
-consume whatsoever of foul and desecrating shows most hideous in its
-light. Is it not plain that powers whose use is ushered in with prayers,
-and alternated with the response of God’s most holy name,—the powers of
-government,—are used to ensnare those who open their doors to whatsoever
-cometh in that name? It is well that governments should be thus
-sanctified to the ears and eyes of the governed; for, if there be a
-commission more certainly given straight from the hand of God than
-another it is that of a ruler of men. Who but he opens the eyes of the
-blind, and unstops the ears of the deaf, and sets the lame on his feet,
-and strengthens together the drooping heart and the feeble knees,—by
-setting before the one the radiant frame of society in all its fitness,
-and waking up for another the voices of human companionship, and
-compacting the powers of the weak with those of the strong, and cheering
-all by warding off injury from without, and making restraint easy where
-perchance it may gall any of those who are within? Sacred is the power
-of the ruler as a trust; but if it be used as a property, where is its
-sanctity? If the steward puts out the eyes that follow him too closely,
-and ties the tongue that importunes, and breaks the limbs of the strong
-man in sport, so as to leave him an impotent beggar in the porch of the
-mansion,—do we not know from the Scripture what shall be the fate of
-that steward? As it is with a single ruler, so shall it be with a
-company of rulers,—with a government which regards the people only as
-the something on which itself must stand, which takes bread from the
-children to give it to dogs; which sells God’s gifts to them that are
-without, at the risk of such utter blindness that they shall weary
-themselves to find the door out of their perplexities and terrors. What
-governments there be that commit the double sin of lording it over
-consciences, (which are God’s heritage,) and of ruling for their own low
-pleasures instead of the right living and moving of the people, judge
-ye. If there be any which mismanage its defence, and deny or pervert
-justice, and refuse public works, and make the church a scandal, and the
-court a spectacle for angels to weep over and devils to resort to, and,
-instead of speeding the people’s freedom with the wings of knowledge,
-shut them into the little cells of ancient men’s wits, it is time that
-such should know why God hath made them stewards, and should be alarmed
-for the coming of their Master. It is not for the men and maid-servants
-to wrest his staff from his hands, or to refuse his reasonable bidding,
-or to forsake, the one his plough, and the other his mill, and the
-maidens to spread the table: but it is for any one to give loud warning
-that the Master of the house will surely demand an account of the
-welfare of his servants. Such a warning do I give; and such is the
-warning spoken by the many mourners of this day, who, because they
-honour the kingly office as the holiest place of the fair temple of
-society, and kingly agents as the appointed priesthood, can the less
-bear to see the nation outraged as if there were no avenging angel of
-Jehovah flying abroad; and comfortless in their miseries, as if Jehovah
-himself were not in the midst of them."
-
-It was well that Dr. Reede felt that he could bear the pillory. He was
-pilloried.
-
-
-
-
- ---------------------
-
-
-
-
- THIRD AGE.
-
-
-History is silent as to the methods by which men were enabled to endure
-the tedium of journeys by the heavy coaches of the olden time. The
-absence of all notion of travelling faster might, indeed, be no
-inconsiderable aid,—an aid of which travellers are at present, for the
-most part, deprived; since the mail-coach passenger, the envy of the
-poor tenant of the carrier’s cart, feels envy, in his turn, of the
-privileged beings who shoot along the northern rail-road; while they,
-perhaps, are sighing for the time when they shall be able to breakfast
-at one extremity of the kingdom, and dine at the other. When once the
-idea of not going fast enough enters a traveller’s mind, _ennui_ is
-pretty sure to follow; and it may be to this circumstance that the
-patience of our forefathers, under their long incarceration on the road,
-was owing—if patience they had. Now, a traveller who is too much used to
-journeying to be amused, as a child is, by the mere process of
-travelling, is dismayed alike if there be a full number of passengers,
-and if there be none but himself. In the first case, there is danger of
-delay from the variety of deposits of persons and goods; and in the
-second, there is an equal danger of delay from the coachman having all
-his own way, and the certainty, besides, of the absence of all
-opportunity of shaking off the dulness of his own society.
-
-Mr. Reid, a sociable young barrister, who had never found himself at a
-loss on a journey, was left desolate one day last summer when he least
-expected it. He had taken his wife and child down to the south, in order
-to establish them by the sea-side for a few weeks; and he was now
-travelling up to town by the stage-coach, in very amusing company, as he
-thought, for the first stage, but presently in solitude. Supposing that
-his companions were going all the way, he took his time about making the
-most of them, and lost the opportunity. There was a sensible farmer, who
-pointed right and left to the sheep on the downs—green downs—retiring in
-long sweeps from the road; and he had much to relate of the methods of
-cultivation which had been pursued here, there, and everywhere,—with the
-Barn Field, and Rick Mead, and Pond-side Field, and Brook Hollow, and
-many other pretty places that he indicated. He had also stores of
-information on the farmer’s favourite subject of complaint—the state of
-the poor. He could give the history of all the well-meant attempts of my
-lord this, and my lady that, and colonel the other, to make employment,
-and institute prizes of almshouses, and induce their neighbours to lay
-out more on patches of land than less helpless folks would think it
-worth while to bestow. Meantime, a smart young lady in the opposite
-corner was telling her widowed chaperon why she could not abide the
-country, and would not be tempted to leave dear London any more,—namely,
-that the country was chalky, and whitened the hems of all her
-petticoats. The widow, in return, assured the unbelieving girl that the
-country was not chalky all over the world, and that she had actually
-seen, with her own eyes, the junction of a white, a red, and a black
-road,—very convenient, as one might choose one’s walk by the colour of
-one’s gown. The widow at the same time let fall her wish to have the
-charge—merely for the sake of pleasant occupation—of the household of a
-widower, to whose daughters she could teach everything desirable;
-especially if they were intended to look after dairy and poultry-yard,
-and such things.
-
-“Thank’ee, ma’am,” said the farmer, as she looked full at him; “my
-daughters are some of them grown up; and they have got on without much
-teaching since their mother died.”
-
-Mr. Reid promised himself to gain more information about the widow’s
-estimate of her own capabilities; but she and her charge were not yet
-going to “dear London.” They got out at the first country town, just
-after the farmer had thrust himself half out of the window to stop the
-coach, flung himself on the stout horse that was waiting for him at the
-entrance of a green lane, and trotted off, with a prodigious exertion of
-knee, elbow, and coat-flap.
-
-Mr. Reid had soon done thinking of the widow, and of the damsel who had
-displayed so intimate a knowledge of rural life. Pauperism lasted
-longer; but this was only another version of a dismal story with which
-he was already too well acquainted. He was glad to think of something
-else. He found that he got most sun by riding backward, and most wind by
-riding forward, and made his election in favour of the latter. He
-discovered, after a momentary doubt, that his umbrella was safe, and
-that there was no occasion to trouble his knees any longer with his
-great-coat. He perceived that the coach had been new-lined, and he
-thought the lace suited the lining uncommonly well. He wondered whether
-the people would be as confoundedly long in changing horses at every
-stage as they had been at the first. It would be very provoking to
-arrive in town too late for dinner at G——’s. Ah! the women by the road-
-side found it a fine day for drying the linen they had washed. How it
-blew about, flapping, with a noise like mill-sails; big-sleeved
-pinafores and dancing stockings! This was a pretty country to live in:
-the gentlemen’s houses were sufficiently sheltered, and the cottages had
-neat orchards behind them; and one would think pains had been taken with
-the green lanes—just in the medium as they were between rankness and
-bareness. What an advantage roads among little hills have in the clear
-stream under the hedge,—a stream like this, dimpling and oozing, now
-over pebbles, and now among weeds! That hedge would make a delicious
-foreground for a picture,—the earth being washed away from the twisted
-roots, and they covered with brown moss, with still a cowslip here and
-there nodding to itself in the water as the wind passed by. By the way,
-that bit of foreground might be kept in mind for his next paper for the
-“New Monthly.” It would be easy to give his subject a turn that would
-allow that hedge and its cowslip to be brought in. What had not Victor
-Hugo made of a yellow flower, in a scene to which nobody who had read it
-would need a second reference! But this well, to the left, was even
-better than the hedge: it must have been described already; for it
-looked as if put there for the purpose. What a damp nook in the hedge it
-stood in, with three old yews above it, and tufts of long grass to
-fringe the place! What a well-used chain and ladle, and what merry,
-mischievous children, pushing one another into the muddy pool where the
-drippings fell, and splashing each other, under pretence of drinking! He
-was afraid of losing the impression of this place, so much dusty road as
-he had to pass through, and so many new objects to meet before he could
-sit down to write; unless, indeed, he did it now. Why should not he
-write his paper now? It was a good idea—a capital thought!
-
-Three backs of letters and a pencil were presently found, and a flat
-parcel in one of the window-pockets, which served as a desk, when the
-feet were properly planted on the opposite seat. The lines were none of
-the straightest, at first; and the dots and stops wandered far out of
-their right places; while the long words looked somewhat hieroglyphical.
-But the coach stopped; and Mr. Reid forgot to observe how much longer it
-took than before to change horses while he was the only passenger. He
-looked up only once, and then saw so charming an old granny, with her
-little Tommy, carrying a toad-in-a-hole to the baker’s, that he was
-rewarded for his momentary idleness, and resolved to find a place for
-them too, near the well and the mossy hedge.
-
-He was now as sorry to be off again as before to stop. The horses were
-spirited, and the road was rough. His pencil slipped and jerked, this
-way and that. Presently his eyes ached: his ideas were jostled away. It
-was impossible to compose while the manual act was so troublesome; it
-was nonsense to attempt it. Nothing but idleness would do in travelling;
-so the blunted pencil was put by, and the eye was refreshed once more
-with green.
-
-But now a new sort of country was opening. The hedges were gone, and a
-prodigious stretch of fallow on either hand looked breezy and pleasant
-enough at first; and the lark sprang from the furrow so blithely, that
-Reid longed to stop the coach, that he might hear its trilling. But the
-lark could not be heard, and was soon out of sight; and the perspective
-of furrows became as wearying as making pothooks had been. Reid betook
-himself to examining the window-pockets. There were two or three tidy
-parcels for solicitors, of course; and a little one, probably for a
-maid-servant, as there were seven lines of direction upon it. The scent
-of strawberries came from a little basket, coolly lined with leaves, and
-addressed to Master Jones, at a school in a town to be presently passed
-through. Reid hoped, for the boy’s sake, that there was a letter too;
-and he found an interstice, through which he could slip half-a-dozen
-burnt almonds, which had remained in his pocket after treating his own
-child. What speculations there would be, next holiday time, about how
-the almonds got in! Two or three other little parcels were disregarded;
-for among them lay one of more importance to Reid than all the
-rest,—three newspapers, tied round once with a bit of red tape, and
-directed, in pencil, to be left at the Blue Lion till called for. Reid
-took the liberty of untying the tape, and amusing himself with the
-precious pieces of type that had fallen in his way. There was little
-political intelligence in these papers, and that was of old date; but a
-little goes a great way with a solitary traveller; and when the better
-parts of a newspaper are disposed of, enough remains in the drier parts
-to employ the intellect that courts suggestion. That which is the case
-with all objects on which the attention is occupied, is eminently the
-case with a newspaper—that whatever the mind happens to be full of there
-receives addition, and that the mood in which it is approached there
-meets with confirmation. Reid had heard much from the farmer of the
-hardships which individuals suffer from a wasteful public expenditure;
-and his eye seemed to catch something which related to this matter, to
-whatever corner of the papers it wandered.
-
-"STRIKE AT ****** PALACE.—_All the workmen at present employed on this
-extensive structure ceased work on the appearance of the contractor
-yesterday morning. Their demand for higher wages being decidedly refused
-by him, the men quitted the spot, and the works have since remained
-deserted. A considerable crowd gathered round, and appeared disposed to
-take part with the workmen, who, it is said, have for some time past
-been arranging a combination to secure a rise of wages. The contractor
-declares his intention to concede no part of the demand._"
-
-The crowd taking part with the workmen! Then the crowd knows less than
-the workmen what it is about. These wages are paid by that very crowd;
-and it is because they issue from the public purse that the workmen
-think they may demand higher wages than they would from a nobleman or
-private gentleman. The contractor is but a medium, as they see, between
-the tax-payers and themselves; and the terms of the contract must depend
-much on the rate of wages of those employed. I hope the contractor will
-indeed concede nothing; for it is the people that must overpay
-eventually; and it has been too long taken for granted that the public
-must pay higher for everything than individuals. I should not wonder if
-these men have got it into their heads, like an acquaintance of mine in
-the same line, that, as they are taxed for these public buildings, they
-have a right to get as much of their money back as they can, forgetting
-that if every taxed person did the same, there would be no palace
-built;—not but that we could spare two or three extremely well;—or
-might, at least, postpone some of the interminable alterations and
-embellishments, with an account of which the nation is treated, year
-after year, in return for its complaisance in furnishing the cash. Let
-their Majesties be nobly lodged, by all means; and, moreover, gratified
-in the exercise of tastes which are a thousand times more dignified than
-those of our kings in the days of cloth of gold, and more refined than
-those of monarchs who could make themselves exceedingly merry at the
-expense of their people. The test, after all, is—What is necessary for
-the _support_ of the administrating body, and what upholds mere _pomp_?
-These are no days for public pomp. In one sense, the time for it is gone
-by; in another sense, it is not come;—that is, we ought now to be men
-enough to put away such childish things; and, we cannot yet afford them.
-Two or three noble royal palaces, let alone when once completed, are, in
-my mind, a proper support to the dignity of the sovereign. As for half-
-a-dozen, if they do not make up a display of disgraceful pomp, the
-barbaric princes of the East are greater philosophers than I take them
-for. Yes, yes; let the sovereign be nobly lodged; but let it be
-remembered that noble lodgings are quite as much wanted for other
-parties.
-
-"_Mr. ——’s motion was lost without a division._"
-
-Aye: just so. The concentrated essence of the people, as the House of
-Commons pretends to be, must put up with a sordid lodging, however many
-royal palaces England may boast. They are not anything so precious as
-they pretend to be, or they would not so meanly exclude themselves from
-their right. They might just as faithfully consult the dignity of the
-empire by making the King and Queen live in a cottage of three rooms, as
-by squeezing themselves into a house where there is neither proper
-accommodation for their sittings, nor for the transaction of their
-business in Committees, nor for witnessing, nor for reporting their
-proceedings. I thought my wife quite right in saying that she would
-never again undergo the insult of being referred to the ventilators; and
-I have determined twenty times myself that I would despise the gallery
-so utterly that I would never set foot in it again: yet to the gallery I
-still go; and I should not wonder if my wife puts away, for once or
-twice, her disgust at inhaling smoke and steam, and her indignation at
-being permitted to watch the course of legislation only through a
-pigeon-hole and a grating. The presence of women there, in spite of such
-insults, is a proof that they are worthy of being treated less like nuns
-and more like rational beings; and the greater the rush and consequent
-confusion in the gallery, the more certain is it that there are people
-who want, and who eventually will have the means of witnessing the
-proceedings of their legislators. But all this is nothing to the
-importance of better accommodation to the members. Of all extraordinary
-occasions of being economical, that is the most strange which impairs
-the exertions of the grand deliberative assembly of the nation,—the most
-majestic body, if it understood its own majesty,—within the bounds of
-the empire. Why,—every nobleman should be content with one house, and
-every private gentleman be ashamed of his stables and kennels, rather
-than that the House of Commons should not have a perfect place of
-assemblage. I verily believe that many a poor man would willingly give
-his every third potato towards thus aiding the true representation of
-his interests. It would be good economy in him so to do, if there was
-nothing of less consequence to be sacrificed first. But King, Lords, and
-Commons are not the only personages who have a claim on the public to be
-well housed, for purposes of social support, not pomp.
-
-"_Yesterday morning, Andrew Wilson underwent the sentence of the law,
-&c. &c. Though only twenty years of age, he was old in guilt, having
-been committed for his first offence,—throwing stones at the police,—-
-when he was in his thirteenth year. He is supposed to have been for some
-time connected with a gang of desperate offenders; but nothing could be
-extracted from him relative to his former associates, though the
-reverend chaplain of the jail devoted the most unremitting attention to
-the spiritual concerns of the unhappy man._"
-
-So this is the way we tend the sick children of the great social family,
-because, forsooth, with all our palaces, we cannot afford a proper
-infirmary! As soon as symptoms of sickness appear, we thrust all our
-patients together, to make one another as much worse as possible, and
-when any one is past hope, we take credit for our humanity in stuffing
-him with remedies which come too late. To look at our prisons, one would
-think that we must be out in our Christian chronology. That among the
-many mansions of the social edifice, room cannot be found for those who
-have the strongest claim of all on our pitying love and watchful
-care,—what a scandal this is may be most fully comprehended by those who
-have passed from the loathsome confusion of the greater number of our
-prisons to the silence and rigid order of the very few in which a better
-system has been tried. There are persons to press the argument that
-while many of our honest poor, in London and in the factory districts,
-are crowded together, six or seven families in the same apartment, it
-cannot be expected that the guilty should be better accommodated. But
-these same honest poor,—trebly honest if they can remain so under such a
-mode of living,—may well be as glad as other people that the prisoner
-should be doomed to the solitude which their poverty denies to them.
-These same honest poor are taxed to pay for the transportation of
-multitudes of the guilty, and for the idleness of all: while the
-incessant regeneration of crime through our prison methods affords but a
-melancholy prospect of augmented burdens on their children’s children
-for similar purposes. In this point of view alone, how dearly has the
-public paid for the destruction of this Andrew Wilson, and for the
-offences of the gang he belongs to! Committed in his childhood for the
-childish fault of throwing stones, kept in a state of expensive idleness
-for want of an apparatus of labour, thrown into an atmosphere of
-corruption for want of room to insulate him, issuing forth as a vagabond
-to spread the infection of idleness and vice, and being brought back to
-be tried and hanged at the nation’s expense, after he had successfully
-qualified others for claiming from the public the expense of
-transportation,—would not the injured wretch have been more profitably
-maintained through a long life at the public expense? Would it not have
-answered better to the public purse to give him an establishment, on
-condition of his remaining harmless? If no Christian considerations are
-strong enough to rouse us to build new jails, or to transmute the spare
-palaces of the educated and the honoured into penitentiaries for the
-ignorant and forlorn, there may be calculable truths,—facts of pounds,
-shillings, and pence,—which may plead on behalf of the guilty against
-the system of mingled parsimony and extravagance by which guilt is
-aggravated at home, and diffused abroad, and the innocent have to pay
-dear for that present quiet which insures a future further invasion of
-their security. Every complainant who commits a young offender to
-certain of our jails knows, or may know, that he thereby burdens the
-public with a malefactor for life, and with all who will become
-criminals by his means. What wonder that the growing chances of impunity
-become a growing inducement to crime? There is no occasion to “provide
-criminals with port wine and Turkey-carpets;” but there would be more
-sense and better economy in this extreme,—if insulation were
-secured,—than in the system which remains a reproach to the head and
-heart of the community. Ah! here are a few hints as to one of the
-methods by which we contrive to have so many young offenders upon our
-hands.
-
-“_John Ford, a publican, was fined for having music in his house, &c.
-&c._”
-
-“_Two labourers, brothers, named White, were charged with creating a
-disturbance in the neighbourhood of the residence of Sir L. M. N. O.,
-who has lately enforced his right of shutting up the foot-path, &c.
-&c._”
-
-“_The number of boats which passed under Putney Bridge from noon to
-sunset on a Sunday in summer, was computed by the informant of the right
-reverend bishop to exceed, &c. &c._”
-
-"_The witness stated that he saw the two prisoners that morning in the
-Albany Road, Regent’s Park, selling the unstamped publications which
-were now produced. He purchased a copy from each of them, and took the
-vendors into custody. The magistrates committed the prisoners to the
-House of Correction for one month each, and thrust the forfeited papers
-into the fire. The prisoners were then removed from the bar, laughing._“
-
-”_On the discussion, last night, relative to the throwing open of the
-Museum, we have to observe, &c. &c._“
-
-”_The prisoner related that his dog having, on a former occasion,
-brought a hare to him in a similar manner, the gamekeeper had ordered
-the animal to be shot. The prisoner’s son had then contrived to secrete
-it; but he could assure the magistrates that the animal should be
-immediately sacrificed if he might be spared the ruin of being sent to
-prison._"
-
-Considering that one of the great objects of government is the security,
-and another the advancement, of the people, it seems as if one of the
-expenses of government should be providing useful and innocent amusement
-for the people. All must have something to do in the intervals of their
-toils; and as the educated can find recreations for themselves, it
-behoves the guardians of the public to be especially careful in
-furnishing innocent amusements to those who are less fitted to choose
-their pleasures well. But where are the public grounds in which the poor
-of our large towns may take the air, and exercise themselves in games?
-Where are the theatres, the museums, the news-rooms, to which the poor
-may resort without an expense unsuited to their means? What has become
-of the principle of Christian equality, when a Christian prelate murmurs
-at the poor man’s efforts to enjoy, at rare intervals, the green
-pastures and still waters to which a loving shepherd would fain lead
-forth all his flock; and if any more tenderly than others, it would be
-such as are but too little left at large? Our administrators are careful
-enough to guard the recreations of those who, if deprived of them, are
-in the least danger of being driven to guilty excitements. The rich who
-can have music and dancing, theatres, picture-galleries and museums,
-riding in the parks, and walking in the fields any day of the week,
-hunting and boating, journeying and study, must also have one more, at
-whatever expense of vice and misery to their less favoured neighbours,
-and at whatever cost to society at large. Yes; their game must be
-protected, though the poor man must not listen in the public-house to
-the music which he cannot hire, nor read at home almost the only
-literature that he can buy. He must destroy his cherished dog, if it
-happens to follow a hare; and must take his evening walk in the dusty
-road if a powerful neighbour forbids him the quiet, green footway. Thus
-we drive him to try if there is no being merry at the beer-shop, and if
-he cannot amuse himself with his dog in the woods at night, since he
-must not in the day. Thus we tempt him to worse places than a cheap
-theatre would be. Thus we preach to him about loving and cherishing
-God’s works, while we shut out some of them from his sight, and wrest
-others from his grasp; and, by making happiness and heaven an
-abstraction which we deny him the intellect to comprehend, we impel him
-to make trial of misery and hell, and by our acts do our best to speed
-him on his way, while our weak words of warning are dispersed by the
-whirlwind of temptation which we ourselves have raised. If the
-administration of penal justice be a grievous burden upon the people, it
-must be lightened by a practical respect to that higher justice which
-commands that the interests of all, the noble and the mean, the educated
-and the ignorant, be of equal importance in the regards of the
-administration; so that government shall as earnestly protest against
-the slaughter of the poor man’s dog for the sake of the rich man’s
-sport, as the prophet of God against the sacrifice of the poor man’s
-ewe-lamb for the rich man’s feast. If bible-read prelates preached from
-their hearts upon this text, we should never have another little boy
-supposing that he was to be a clergyman, because he went out shooting
-with his father. Would that such could be persuaded to leave their
-partridges and pheasants, and go east and west, to bring down and send
-home the winged creatures of other climes, wherewith to delight the eyes
-of the ignorant, and to enlarge his knowledge of God’s works! Meantime,
-the well-dressed only can enter the Zoological Gardens; and the footman
-(who cannot be otherwise than well-dressed) must pull off his cockade
-before he may look at that which may open to him some of the glory of
-the 104th Psalm. We are lavish of God’s word to the people, but grudging
-of his works. We offer them the dead letter, withholding the spirit
-which gives life. Yet something is done in the way of genuine homage.
-See here!—
-
-“_Yesterday being the occasion of the annual assemblage of schools in
-St. Paul’s * * under the dome * * children sang a hymn * * crowded to
-excess * * presence of her Majesty, &c. &c._”
-
-And here follows an account of certain university prize-givings. We are
-not without public education,—badged,—the one to denote charity, the
-other endowments.
-
-If education were what it ought to be,—the breath of the life of the
-community,—there would be an end of this childish and degrading badging.
-At present, this prodigious display of white tippets and coloured
-cockades under the dome of St. Paul’s tells only that, because the whole
-of society is not educated at all, a small portion is educated wrong.
-There is less to be proud than ashamed of in such an exhibition; and
-though the stranger from a comparatively barbarous country may feel his
-heart swell as that mighty infant voice chaunts its hymn of praise, the
-thoughts of the meditative patriot will wander from these few elect to
-the multitudes that are left in the outer darkness. Till the state can
-show how every parent may afford his children a good education, the
-state is bound to provide the means for it; and to enforce the use of
-those means by making a certain degree of intellectual competency a
-condition of the enjoyment of the benefits of society. Till the state
-can appoint to every member a sufficiency of leisure from the single
-manual act which, under an extensive division of labour, constitutes the
-business of many, it is bound to provide the only effectual antidote to
-the contracting and benumbing influences of such servile toil.
-
-Till knowledge ceases to be at least as necessary to the happiness of
-the state as military skill was to the defence of the Greek Republics,
-the state is bound to require of every individual a certain amount of
-intellectual ability, as Greece required of her citizens a specified
-degree of military skill. Till all these extraordinary things happen, no
-pleas of poverty, no mournful reference to the debt, no just murmurs
-against the pension list, can absolve us from the obligation of framing
-and setting in motion a system of instruction which shall include every
-child that shall not be better educated elsewhere. Not that this would
-be any very tremendous expense. There is an enormous waste of
-educational resources already, from the absence of system and co-
-operation. Lords and ladies, squires and dames, farmers’ wives,
-merchants’ daughters, and clergymen’s sisters, have their schools,
-benevolently set on foot, and indefatigably kept up, in defiance of the
-evils of insulation and diversity of plan. Let all these be put under
-the workings of a well-planned system, and there will be a prodigious
-saving of effort and of cost. The private benevolence now operating in
-this direction would go very far towards the fulfilment of a national
-scheme. What a saving in teachers, in buildings, in apparatus and
-materials, and, finally, in badges! There will be no uniform of white
-caps and tippets when there is no particular glory to be got by this
-species of charity; when none can be found who must put up with the
-humiliation for the sake of the overbalancing good. When the whole
-people is so well off that none come to receive alms at the sound of the
-trumpet, the trumpet will cease to sound. The day may even arrive when
-blue gowns and yellow stockings shall excite pity in the beholders no
-more, and no widowed parent be compelled to struggle with her maternal
-shame at subjecting her comely lad to the mortifications which the young
-spirit has not learned to brave. This last grievance, however, lies not
-at the nation’s door. It is chargeable on the short-sightedness of an
-individual, which may serve as a warning to us whenever we set to work
-on our system of national education. It may teach us, by exhibiting the
-folly of certain methods of endowment, to examine others; to avoid the
-absurdity of bestowing vast sums in teaching plain things in a perplexed
-manner, or supposed sciences which have long ceased to be regarded as
-such, or other accomplishments which the circumstances of the times do
-not render either necessary or convenient. It may lead our attention
-from the endowed school to the endowed university, and show us that what
-we want, from our gentlemen as well as our poor, is an awakening of the
-intellect to objects of immediate and general concern, and not a
-compulsion to mental toil which shall leave a man, after years of
-exemplary application, ignorant of whatever may make him most useful in
-society, and may be best employed and improved amidst the intercourses
-of the world. Let there remain a tribe of book-worms still; and Heaven
-forbid that the classics should fall into contempt! But let scholastic
-honours be bestowed according to the sympathies of the many; the many
-being meantime so cultivated as that they may arrive at a sympathy with
-intellectual toil. With the progress of science, the diffusion of
-science becomes necessary. The greater the power of the people to injure
-or rebel, the more necessary it is to teach them to be above injuring
-and rebelling. The ancient tyrant who hung up his laws written in so
-small a character that his people could not read them, and then punished
-offenders under pretence that his laws were exhibited, was no more
-unjust than we are while we transport and hang our neighbours for deeds
-of folly and malice, while we still withhold from them the spirit of
-power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Bring public education to the
-test, and it will be found that badgery is _pomp_, while universal
-instruction is essential to the _support_ of the state.
-
-A pretty new church that! But I should scarcely have supposed it wanted
-while there is a new Methodist meeting-house on one side the way, and
-the large old Independent chapel on the other. The little church that
-the lady is sketching before it comes down, might have served a while
-longer, I fancy, if the necessity had been estimated by the number of
-church-goers, and not of souls, in the parish. Whatever may be thought
-of the obligation to provide a national scheme of worship after the
-manner in which a national scheme of education is certainly a
-duty,—however the essential circumstance of distinction is overlooked,
-that every member of the state has, without its assistance,
-opportunities of worship, while such is not the case with
-instruction,—whatever may be thought of the general question of an
-ecclesiastical establishment,—it is not pretended by any that its
-purposes are answered by the application of its funds to the
-augmentation of private fortunes instead of the religious instruction of
-the people. Time was when he who presented to a _benefice_ was supposed
-to confer a _benefit_ on the people connected with it. Now we have the
-public barter of such presentations for gold; and whether most regard be
-always paid to the qualifications of the candidate or to the gold he
-brings, let the face of the country declare. Meeting-houses springing up
-in every village, intelligent artizans going off to one class or another
-of Dissenters, while the stolid race of agricultural labourers lounge to
-church,—what does this tell but that the religious wants of the people
-are better met by the privately-paid than the publicly-paid church? The
-people are not religiously _instructed_ by the clergy, as a body. Look
-into our agricultural districts, and see what the mere opening of
-churches does for the population,—for the dolts who snore round the fire
-in the farm-kitchen during the long winter evenings, and the poor
-wretches that creep, match in hand, between the doomed stacks, or that
-walk firmly to the gibbet under the delusion that their life-long
-disease of grovelling vice is cured and sent to oblivion by a few
-priestly prayers and three days of spiritual excitement! Look into our
-thronged towns, and search in its cellars and garrets, its alleys and
-its wider streets, how many dwellers there see the face of their
-clergyman, and have learned from his lips the reason of the hope that is
-in them,—if such hope there indeed be! They hear that he who holds the
-benefice, _i.e._ is appointed their benefactor, is living in London, or
-travelling abroad, on the funds which are derived from the people, and
-that a curate, found by accident or advertisement, is coming to do the
-duty. He may be a religious instructor, in the real sense of the term,
-or he may not. If he be, no thanks to his superior, no thanks to the
-state, no thanks to the university that bred him! For aught they know or
-trouble themselves about, he may be more ignorant than many a mechanic
-in his flock, and more indolent than the finest lady who carries her
-salts to her cushioned pew. He might have the same virtues that he has
-now if he were a dissenting minister; and nobody disputes that nowhere
-does virtue more eminently fail of its earthly recompense than in the
-church. Nowhere do luxury and indolence more shamelessly absorb the
-gains of hardship and of toil. The sum of the whole matter is, that in
-the present state of the church, the people pay largely for religious
-instruction, which it is a chance whether they obtain. If the same
-payment were made by the people direct,—without the intervention of the
-state,—they would be sure to demand and receive an equivalent for their
-sacrifices. If the people be supposed incapable of thus providing for
-their own spiritual wants, it behoves the state to see that those wants
-are actually provided for, so that more than half the nation may not be
-compelled, through failure of duty in the establishment, to support a
-double ministry. No power in earth or heaven can absolve the state from
-the obligation, either to leave to its members the management of their
-own funds for religious worship and instruction, or to furnish to every
-individual the means of learning the Gospel and worshipping his Maker.
-The first is a plan which has been elsewhere found to answer full as
-well as any we have yet tried. The last can never be attained by merely
-opening a sufficiency of churches, and leaving to men’s cupidity the
-chance whether the pulpit shall be occupied by an ape or an apostle.
-
-Have the people got a notion already of such an alternative?
-
-"TITHES.—PARISH OF C.—_On Monday, the Rev. J. B. H. commenced
-distraining for tithes due, &c. &c. On that day there were impounded
-above forty cows. The parishioners offered security for the cattle,
-which was refused, and they have resolved to let the law take its
-course. In the mean time, a large military and police force is stationed
-in the vicinity of the pound. Sentinels are regularly posted and
-relieved, and the place presents more the appearance of a warlike
-district than a country village._"
-
-Ah! this Rev. J. B. H. takes for his text, perhaps, “I came not to send
-peace on earth, but a sword.” The people, it seems, think his claim,
-1476_l._, on a valued property of 9000_l._ a year, excessive. But his
-advocate declares that no man, acquainted with first principles, can
-deny that the Rev. J. B. H. has a legal right to demand and take his
-tithes. Be it so! But first principles tell just as plainly that it is
-high time the law was altered:—first principles of humanity to the
-clergy themselves, to judge by what comes next.
-
-"_The subscription for the relief of the families of clergymen in
-Ireland proceeds but slowly, though the necessity for it increases with
-every passing day. Ladies who have been educated with a view to filling
-a highly-respectable station in society may now be seen engaged in the
-most laborious domestic offices; while their children are thankful to
-accept a meal of potatoes from some of the lowest of their father’s
-flock._“
-
-”_The widow of an Irish clergyman, middle-aged, is eager to obtain a
-situation to superintend the management of the nursery in the family of
-a widower, or as useful companion to a lady, or as housekeeper in a
-nobleman’s mansion, or as matron in an extensive charitable institution.
-She would be willing to make herself useful in any situation not menial,
-her circumstances being of an urgent nature.—References to a lady of
-rank._“
-
-”_A master of arts, in full orders, is desirous of a curacy. He feels
-himself equal to a laborious charge; and a speedy settlement is of more
-importance than the amount of salary, especially if there be an opening
-for tuition._"
-
-Alas! what a disclosure of misery is here! among a body which the United
-Kingdom is taxed to maintain. Poor as the Dissenting clergy may be, as a
-body, we hear of no such conflicts in their lot. The poor spirit-broken
-clergyman bearing, undeserved by him, the opprobrium belonging to his
-church, seeing his gentle wife washing his floor, or striving to patch
-up once more the girl’s frock and the boy’s coat; while they, poor
-children, peep in at the door of the labourer’s smoky cabin, and rush in
-at the first invitation to take a sup of milk or a potatoe! Scraps of
-the classics, descriptive of poverty, _will_ run in his head, instead of
-gospel consolations of poverty; for the good reason that he was taught
-that his classics, and not his choice of poverty, were his title to
-preach the gospel. He could find in his heart to inquire further of any
-heretical sect, which takes for its rule to employ every one according
-to his capacity, and reward him according to his works. However
-difficult it might be to fix upon any authority which all men would
-agree to be a fitting judge of their capacities and their works, none
-would affirm that an educated clergyman is employed according to his
-capacities in wandering about helpless amidst the contempt or
-indifference of his flock, or that his works are properly rewarded by
-the starvation of his family. Then there is the widow of a brother in
-the same fruitless ministry! “_Any situation not menial!_” “_Her
-circumstances of an urgent nature!_” One poor relation, perhaps, taking
-charge of one child, and another of a second; and the third, perhaps,
-sent to wear the badge of this lady of rank at a charity-school, that
-the widow may be made childless—may advertise herself as “without
-incumbrance,” to undertake any situation not menial! Then comes the
-curate, eager to undertake more than man can do for as little as man can
-live for;—to use his intellectual tools, framed with care, and polished
-with long toil, and needing, in their application, all the power of a
-philosopher with all the zeal of a saint,—for less than is given to the
-artizan who spends his life in the performance of one manual act, or the
-clerk, whose whole soul lies in one process of computation! This poor
-curate, heart-sick through long waiting, may find employment according
-to his capacities, and above them; but, if he be fit for his work, he
-will not be rewarded according to it, till those for whom he and his
-brethren toil have, directly or indirectly, the distribution of the
-recompense. Bring the church, in its turn, to the test. It is certain
-that it is made up of pomp and penury; and no power on earth can prove
-that it at present yields any support to the state.
-
-Since the people have no benefit from a state education, and but a
-questionable benefit from a state church, how much is spent on their
-behalf? Here are tables which look as if they would tell something,
-though it requires more wit than mortal man has to make out accurately
-how the public accounts really stand. Among all the accommodations
-provided for the transaction of public business, one would think a pay-
-office might be fixed upon where all public claims should be discharged,
-in certain allotted departments; and, among all the servants of
-government, working men or sinecurists, one would think some might be
-employed in preparing such a document as has never yet been seen among
-us—an account of the actual annual expenditure of the public money. But
-one may make some approach to the truth in the gross:—
-
-“_The expenditure for the last year may be calculated, in round numbers,
-at upwards of fifty millions._”
-
-Upon my word, we are a gay nation! If we acted upon the belief held by
-some very wise persons, that the business of government might be
-conducted at a charge of one per cent. on the aggregate of individual
-revenue, this sum total would show us to be rich enough to buy Europe,
-and perhaps America to boot. This would give us a national wealth which
-it would be beyond Crœsus himself to form a notion of. But we are far
-enough from having ourselves governed so cheaply. Let us see how these
-fifty millions go:—
-
- “_To the Public Creditor_ £28,000,000
- _Civil and Pension Lists_ 1,000,000
- _Superannuated and Reduced Allowances of Civil £1,000,000
- Departments_
- _Do. of Military Ditto_ 4,300,000
- _Miscellaneous Charges_ 200,000.”
-
-Here are thirty-four millions and a half devoted to “non-
-effective” expenditure. This is a pretty triumph of _Pomp_ versus
-_Support_.—Yes,—pomp: for few will now dare to affirm that our
-prodigious wars were necessary to the national defence. They were wars
-of pomp which undermined our supports: and, as for the glory thus
-gained, our descendants will be ashamed of it long before they have done
-paying for it.—As for the other items of non-effective expenditure,—the
-smaller they appear by the side of the enormous debt charge, the more
-necessity there is for their reduction; since the disproportion
-proves,—not their smallness, but its bigness. Though they cannot be
-abolished,—though their Majesties must have a household,—though the
-other branches of the royal family must be supported,—though retired
-soldiers and sailors must be taken care of on their quitting a service
-from which it is not easy to turn to any other,—no man will now affirm
-that reduction is forever impossible; though the like affirmation was
-made before the present government proved its falsehood. That their
-Majesties must have a household on a liberal scale is true; but that
-there are no sinecures in the royal households remains to be proved. And
-if such sinecures there must be, it also remains to be proved that they
-would not be equally well filled if they were merely honorary offices.
-That the members of the royal family, precluded as they are by their
-position from being independent, must submit to be maintained by a
-pitying people, is also true. It is a lot so full of mortification, that
-a Christian nation will soften the necessity to them to the utmost;
-cheerfully paying as much as will support them in decent splendour, but
-not so much more as will expose them to the taunts of their supporters.
-This regard to their feelings is their due, till their day of
-emancipation arrives,—till the customs of society shall allow them the
-natural rights of men and women,—the power of social exertion, and the
-enjoyment of social independence. Their case, however, is peculiar in
-its hardships. No other class in society is precluded from either
-enjoying ancestral property or accumulating property for themselves; and
-it is too much to expect the nation to approve or to pay for the
-infliction of a similar humiliation on any who have not, in their own
-persons or in those of their very nearest connexions, served the people
-for an otherwise insufficient reward. Let the soldier and sailor who
-have sacrificed health or member in the public defence be provided for
-by a grateful people; but there is no reason why the descendants of
-civil officers, or diplomatists retired from already overpaid services,
-should receive among them far more than is afforded to naval and
-military pensions together. As for the proportion of these naval and
-military pensions to the expenditure for effective defence, it is to be
-hoped that a long abstinence from war will rectify,—if they must not be
-otherwise rectified,—such enormous abuses as that of the number of
-retired soldiers far exceeding that of the employed, and of the expenses
-of the non-effective service being considerably greater than the
-maintenance of the actual army. Monstrous absurdities! that the
-factitiously helpless class should cost the nation more than those who
-advance some plea,—more or less substantial,—of civil services, rendered
-by themselves or their connexions! that these last should cost the
-nation more than the whole body of its maimed, and wounded, and worn-out
-defenders! and that these again should cost the nation more than its
-actual defenders! What wonder that they from whose toils all these
-expenses must be paid talk of a national militia,—of arming themselves,
-and dispensing with a standing army? It is no wonder: but when we let
-them be as wise as they desire to be, they will perceive that their best
-weapons at present are the tongues of their representatives. It has not
-yet been tried whether these tongues may not utter a spell powerful
-enough to loosen this enormous Dead-Weight from the neck of the nation.
-
-But how goes the 15,000,000_l._ for actual service?
-
-“_Of the 15,000,000l. required for active service, three and a half are
-expended on the collection of the revenue. Eight and a quarter on
-defence. Law and justice swallow up three-quarters of a million. Another
-million is required for civil government, and the expenses of
-legislation. Diplomacy and the colonial civil service are discharged by
-half a million. About half a million is spent on public works. The
-remaining odd half million out of the fifteen, is expended on the
-management of the debt, and for miscellaneous services,” &c._
-
-So we, a most Christian nation, with abundance of Christian prelates,
-and a church which is to watch over the state with apostolic care,—we,
-strenuous professors of a religion of peace and enlightenment,—spend
-eight millions and a quarter on Defence, and——how much on popular
-Education? I suppose the latter forms some little item in one of the
-smaller accounts, for I can nowhere see it. Eight millions and a quarter
-on Defence, and three quarters on Law and Justice! Eight and a quarter
-on Defence, and one on Government and Legislation! Eight millions and a
-quarter on Defence, and half a million on Public Works! O,
-monstrous!—too monstrous a sin to be charged on any ruler, or body of
-rulers, or succession of bodies of rulers! The broad shoulders of the
-whole civilized world must bear this tremendous reproach:—the world
-which has had Christianity in it these eighteen hundred years, and whose
-most Christian empire yet lays out more than half its serviceable
-expenditure in providing the means of bloodshed, or of repelling
-bloodshed! The proportion would be enormous, even if all the other items
-were of righteous signification,—if the proper proportion of the three
-and a half millions for Collection went to Education; if Law were
-simple, and Justice cheap; if the real servants of Government were
-liberally paid, and all idle hangers-on shaken off; if there were no
-vicious diplomatic and colonial patronage; and no jobbing in the matter
-of Public Works. If all else were as it should be, this item might well
-make us doubt what age of the world we are living in, and for what
-purpose it is that Providence is pleased to humble us by leaving such a
-painful thorn of barbarism in the side of our majestic civilization.
-Long must it be before it can grow out. Meantime, let us not boast as if
-the whole body were sound; or as if we were not performing as humbling
-and factitious a duty in paying our defence-taxes as the bondman of old
-in following the banner of the cross to the eastern slaughter-field. The
-one was the bondman’s duty then; and the other is the citizen’s duty
-now; but the one duty is destined to become as obsolete as the
-other.—What glory in that day, to reverse the order of expenditure!
-Education, Public Works, Government and Legislation, Law and Justice,
-Diplomacy, Defence, Dignity of the Sovereign. When this time shall come,
-no one can conjecture; but that we shall not always have to pay eight
-millions a year for our defence is certain; if the voice of a wise
-man,—(which is always the voice of an awakening multitude,)—say true.
-“Human intelligence will not stand still: the same impulse that has
-hitherto borne it onwards, will continue to advance it yet further. The
-very circumstance of the vast increase of expense attending national
-warfare has made it impossible for governments henceforth to engage in
-it, without the public assent, expressed or implied; and that assent
-will be obtained with the more difficulty, in proportion as the public
-shall become more generally acquainted with their real interest. The
-national military establishment will be reduced to what is barely
-sufficient to repel external attack; for which purpose, little more is
-necessary than a small body of such kinds of troops as cannot be had
-without long training and exercise; as of cavalry and artillery. For the
-rest, nations will rely on their militia, and on the excellence of their
-internal polity; for it is next to impossible to conquer a people,
-unanimous in their attachment to their national institutions.” Nor will
-any desire to conquer them while our example of the results of conquest
-is before the eyes of nations. Then the newspapers will not have to give
-up space to notices of military reviews; and gentry whose names have no
-chance of otherwise appearing in print will not have the trouble of
-looking for themselves in the list of army promotions. The pomp of
-defence will be done away, while the support will remain in the hearts
-and hands of the people.
-
-What a blessed thing it is that as soon as the people do not choose to
-pay for pomp, pomp will be done away! What a blessed thing that they
-cannot be put out of the question, as Henry VIII.’s people were, by
-sending their representatives to the wars as often as they disliked
-paying for the King’s gold and silver beards, or the Lady Mary’s fool’s
-cap and bells! What a blessing that they can be no longer feared and yet
-defied, as when Charles II. did without a parliament because he was
-afraid to tell them of the bribes he had taken, and the loans he had
-asked, and the cheats he had committed, and the mad extravagance of his
-tastes and habits! Here, I see, we are content to pay for
-
-“_Robes, collars, badges, &c., for Knights of the several Orders._
-
-”_Repairing the King’s crown, maces, badges, &c., and gold and silver
-sticks._
-
-“_Plate to the Secretary of State._
-
-”_Plate and various equipage money to the Lord Lieutenant and Lord
-Chancellor of Ireland._"
-
-This is the people’s own doing. No grown man can be supposed to care for
-crowns and gold sticks, and robes and collars, in themselves. It is the
-people who choose to preserve them as antiquarian curiosities. So be it,
-as long as their taste for antiquities takes this turn, and they can
-find grown men good-natured enough to dress up to make a show for their
-gratification. But, in another reign or two, it will be necessary to
-have dolls made to save busy and grave legislators the toil and
-absurdity of figuring in such an exhibition; or perhaps cheap theatres
-will by that time be allowed, where those who now act pantomimes, will
-not be above exhibiting these other mummeries on Christmas nights.
-Meantime, if the people choose to have their functionaries surrounded
-with pomp and parade, they must pay the purchase money with thanks.
-Whenever they shall become disposed to dispense with guards, trappings,
-and pageantry, to respect simplicity, and obey the laws for the sake of
-something more venerable than maces and wigs, they have only to say so,
-and doubtless the King will feel much relieved, and his ministers very
-thankful. The laws will work quite as well for the judges looking like
-other people; in the same manner as it is found that physicians’
-prescriptions are worth full as much as formerly, though the learned
-gentlemen now wear their own hair. We tried this method of simplicity in
-our own North American Colonies, less than a century ago. Their total
-expenditure was under 65,000_l._ per annum. We shall not have held those
-colonies for nothing if we learn from our own doings there how cheap a
-thing government may be made, when removed from under the eyes and the
-hands of a born aristocracy.
-
-What a rich, stirring, happy-looking country this is before my eyes,
-where the people hold up their heads and smile,—very differently, I
-fancy, from what they did when the proud Cardinal made a progress
-through it, or when whispers of the sale of Dunkirk circulated in
-advance or in the rear of the sovereign who bartered away his people’s
-honour! How times are changed, when, instead of complaining that the
-King and his Ministers sacrifice the nation to their own pomps and
-vanities, the people only murmur at an insufficiency of courage and
-despatch in relieving them of the burdens imposed by the mal-
-administration of a former age! What a change, from being king-ridden,
-courtier-ridden, priest-ridden, minister-ridden, to being,—not king-
-ridden, less courtier-ridden, priest-ridden only while it is our
-pleasure to be so, and ruled by a ministry, every tittle of whose power
-hangs upon the breath of the people! One may bear even the debt, for a
-short space, with patience, while blessed with the sober certainty that
-the true instrument of rectification,—the responsibility of rulers to
-the ruled, is at length actually in our hands. One might almost wish
-long life to the sinecure pensioners, and be courteous about the three
-millions and a half consumed in tax collecting, if one rested in a
-comparison of the present with the past. But there is enough before
-one’s eyes to remind one how much remains to be done before the nation
-shall receive full justice at the hands of its guardians. By small
-savings in many quarters, or by one of the several decided retrenchments
-which are yet possible and imperative, some entire tax, with its cost of
-collection, might ere this have been spared, and many an individual and
-many a family who wanted but this one additional weight to crush them,
-might now have been standing erect in their independence. What a list of
-advertisements is here! Petitions for relief,—how piteous! Offers of
-lodging, of service, literary, commercial, and personal, how eager! What
-tribes of little governesses, professing to teach more than their young
-powers can possibly have achieved! What trains of servants, vehemently
-upholding their own honesty and accomplishments,—the married boasting of
-having got rid of their children to recommend themselves to their
-employers,—ay, even the mother advertising for sale the nourishment
-which God created for her first-born! There is no saying how much of all
-this is attributable to the weight of public burdens, or to the mode of
-their pressure: but it is enough that this craving for support co-exists
-with unnecessary public burdens. It is enough, were the craving
-aggravated a thousand-fold, and the needless burden extenuated to the
-smallest that could be estimated,—it is enough to prove that no
-worthless pensioner,—worthless to the nation at large,—should fill his
-snuff-box at the public charge, while a single tax-payer is distressed.
-For my part, I have no doubt that many of the cases in this long list of
-urgent appeals owe their sorrow to this cause. I have no doubt that many
-a young girl’s first grief is the seeing a deeper and a deeper gloom on
-her father’s brow, as he fails more and more to bear up against his
-share of the public burden, and finds that he must at length bring
-himself to the point, and surrender the child he has tenderly nurtured,
-and dismiss her to seek a laborious and precarious subsistence for
-herself. I have no doubt that many of these boasting servants would have
-reserved their own merits to bless their own circle, but for the
-difficulty that parents, husbands and brothers find in living on taxed
-articles. While these things co-exist with the needless expenditure of a
-single farthing, I, for one, shall feel that, however thankful we may
-and ought to be for our prodigious advance in freedom and moral dignity,
-we have still to pray, day and night, that the cry of the poor and the
-mirth of the parasite do not rise up together against us. Too fearful a
-retribution must await us, if we suffer any more honest hearts to be
-crushed under the chariot wheels of any ‘gay, licentious proud’—who must
-have walked barefoot in the mud, if their condition had been determined
-by their deserts.
-
-What place _is_ this? I was not aware that these pretty villas, and
-evergreen gardens, and trim causeways stretched to so great a distance
-on any London road. Bless me! where can we be? I know that old oak. I
-must have been dreaming if we have passed through Croydon without my
-perceiving it. I shall be early at G.’s after all. No! not I! It is some
-two hours later than I thought. Travelling alone is the best pastime,
-after all. I must tie up these newspapers. It is a wonder they have not
-been claimed for the Blue Lion yet.
-
-My wife would say this is just the light for the Abbey; but she has said
-so of every light, from the broadest noon sunshine to the glimmer of the
-slenderest crescent at midnight. Long may the Abbey stand, quiet amidst
-the bustle of moving life, a monitor speaking eloquently of the past,
-and breathing low prophecies of the future! It is a far nobler
-depository of records than the Tower: for here are brought into
-immediate contrast the two tribes of kings,—the sovereigns by physical
-force, and the sovereigns by moral force,—the royal Henries, and the
-thrice royal Shakspeare and Locke and Wilberforce;—and there remains
-also space for some one who perchance may unite the attributes of
-all;—who, by doing the highest work of a ruler in making the people
-happy, may discharge the commission of a seraph in leading them on to be
-wise. Let not the towers totter, nor the walls crumble, till such an one
-is there sung to his rest by the requiem of a virtuous people! But the
-noblest place of records can never be within four walls, shut in from
-the stars. There is one, as ancient, may be, as the Abbey; and perhaps
-destined to witness its aisles laid open to the sunrise, and its
-monuments to the shifting moonlight,—the old oak that we passed just
-now. My wife pities it, standing exposed in its old age to the glare and
-the dust, when it was perhaps, in its youth, the centre of a cool, green
-thicket. But it is worth living through all things to witness what that
-oak has seen. If no prophetic eye were given to men, I think I would
-accept the _elixir vitæ_ for a chance of beholding the like. As soon as
-that oak had a shade to offer, who came to court it? The pilgrim on his
-painful way to the southern shrine,—turning aside to pray that the
-helpless might not be ravaged by the spoiler in his absence? The nun who
-mourned within her cell, and trembled in God’s sunshine, and passed her
-blighted life in this sad alternation? The child who slept on the
-turf,—safely, with the adder in the neighbouring grass, and the robber
-looking down from the tree in envy of its innocence; innocence which,
-after all, was poisoned by a worse fang than the adder’s, and despoiled
-by the hand of a ruder bandit,—tyranny?—Who came in a later age?—The
-soldier reeking from the battle, and in search of some nook in which to
-pray for his little ones and die? The maiden, fleeing from royal lust,
-and her father outlawed by royal vengeance? What tales were brought when
-the neighbouring stems mouldered away, and left space for the winds to
-enter with their tidings from afar? Rumours of heaped battle-fields
-across the sea, and of the murmurings of the oppressed in their
-comfortless homes, and the indignant remonstrance of captives silenced
-in their proclamation of the truth? And then, did weary sailors come up
-from the sea, and, while they rested, talk of peace? And merchants of
-prosperity? And labourers of better days?—And now that the old oak
-yields but a scanty shade,—children come to pick up its acorns, and to
-make a ladder of its mouldering sides; and even these infant tongues can
-tell of what the people feel, and what the people intend, and what the
-King desires for the people, and what the ministers propose for the
-people. The old oak has lived to see the people’s day.—O! may the breath
-of heaven stir it lightly;—may the spring rains fall softly as the
-wintry snow;—may the thunderbolt spare it, and the flash not dare to
-crisp its lightest leaf, that it may endure to witness something of that
-which is yet to come!—of the wisdom which shall issue sternly from the
-abyss of poverty, smoothing its rugged brow as it mounts to a milder and
-brighter region; and of pleasure descending from her painted cloud,
-sobering her mien as she visits rank below rank, till she takes up her
-abode with the lowliest in the form of content. If every stone of yonder
-Abbey can be made to murmur like the sea-shell to the awakened ear,
-disclosing echoes of the requiems of ages, yet more may this oak whisper
-from every leaf its records of individual sorrows, of mutual hopes, and
-now of common rejoicing;—a rejoicing which yet has more in it of hope
-than of fulfilment. The day of the people is come. The old oak survives
-to complete its annals,—the Abbey has place for a record—whether the
-people are wise to use their day for the promotion of the great objects
-of national association,—public order and social improvement.
-
-It was too late to dine at G.’s; so Reid turned into the Abbey, and
-staid there till his own footfall was the only sound that entertained
-the bodily ear.
-
-_Summary of Principles illustrated in this volume._
-
-It is necessary to the security and advancement of a community that
-there should be an expenditure of a portion of its wealth for purposes
-of defence, of public order, and of social improvement.
-
-As public expenditure, though necessary, is unproductive, it must be
-limited. And, as the means of such expenditure are furnished by the
-people for defined objects, its limit is easily ascertained.
-
-That expenditure alone which is necessary to defence, public order, and
-social improvement, is justifiable.
-
-Such a direction of the public expenditure can be secured only by the
-public functionaries who expend being made fully responsible to the
-party in whose behalf they expend.
-
-For want of this responsibility, the public expenditure of an early
-age,—determined to pageantry, war, and favouritism,—was excessive, and
-perpetrated by the few in defiance of the many.
-
-For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public expenditure
-of an after age,—determined to luxury, war, and patronage,—was
-excessive, and perpetrated by the few in fear of the many, by deceiving
-and defrauding them.
-
-For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public expenditure
-of the present age,—determined chiefly to the sustaining of burdens
-imposed by a preceding age,—perpetuates many abuses: and, though much
-ameliorated by the less unequal distribution of power, the public
-expenditure is yet as far from being regulated to the greatest advantage
-of the many, as the many are from exacting due responsibility and
-service from the few.
-
-When this service and responsibility shall be duly exacted, there will
-be—
-
-Necessary offices only, whose duties will be clearly defined, fully
-accounted for, and liberally rewarded:
-
-Little patronage, and that little at the disposal of the people:
-
-No pomp,—at the expense of those who can barely obtain support: but
-
-Liberal provisions for the advancement of national industry and
-intelligence.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
- Transcriber’s Note
-
-Hyphens appearing on a line or page break have beem removed if the
-preponderance of other occurrences are unhyphenated. Those words
-occurring midline are retained regardless of other occurrences. The
-following variants were retained: schoolhouse / school-house, grandchild
-/ grand-child, eyebrows / eye-brows, evildoers / evil-doers, bedside /
-bed-side, headache / head-ache.
-
-On some occasions, a word spans a line break, but the hyphen itself has
-gone missing. These fragments are joined appropriately without further
-notice here.
-
-Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and
-are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.
-
- BRIERY CREEK.
-
- 26.21 [“]There goes Dods! Removed.
- 73.20 if it did not come too late.[”] Added.
- 94.5 Dr. Sneyd was very thankf[n/u]l> for his aid. Inverted.
- 97.3 she had grown p[ro/or]megranates Transposed.
- 101.10 a damsel dressed in tawd[r]y finery Inserted.
- 109.10 which must give way.[”] Removed.
- 152.3 to be so remembered.[”] Added.
-
- THE THREE AGES.
- 50.27 for his Maje[s]ty’s service was more Inserted.
- 55.2 in order to build[ing] a new one Removed.
- 97.10 the animal should be immediately sacrifi[c]ed Inserted.
-
-
-
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***
+ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 *** + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note: + +This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. +Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. On each title +page, the phrase “A Tale” was printed in a blackletter font, which is +rendered here delimited by ‘=’. + +The volume is a collection of three already published texts, each with +its own title page and pagination. + +Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please +see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding +the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. + + ILLUSTRATIONS + OF + POLITICAL ECONOMY. + + + BY + HARRIET MARTINEAU. + + + ——o—— + + + BRIERY CREEK. + THE THREE AGES. + + + ——o—— + + + _IN NINE VOLUMES._ + + + + + VOL. VIII. + + + + + LONDON: + CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW. + MDCCCXXXIV. + + + + + LONDON: + + Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, + + Duke-street, Lambeth. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + --- + + BRIERY CREEK. + CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE + 1. The Philosopher at Home 1│5. Introductions 94 + 2. The Gentleman at Home 22│6. A Father’s Hope 122 + 3. Saturday Morning 46│7. The End of the Matter 142 + 4. Sunday Evening 65│ + │ + THE THREE AGES.. + │ + 1. First Age 1│3. Third Age 93 + 2. Second Age 35│ + + + + + BRIERY CREEK. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE PHILOSOPHER AT HOME. + + +The sun,—the bright sun of May in the western world,—was going down on +the village of Briery Creek, and there was scarcely a soul left within +its bounds to observe how the shadows lengthened on the prairie, except +Dr. Sneyd; and Dr. Sneyd was too busy to do justice to the spectacle. It +was very long since letters and newspapers had been received from +England; the rains had interfered with the post; and nothing had been +heard at the settlement for a month of what the minister was planning in +London, and what the populace was doing in Paris. Dr. Sneyd had learned, +in this time, much that was taking place among the worlds overhead; and +he now began to be very impatient for tidings respecting the Old World, +on which he had been compelled to turn his back, at the moment when its +political circumstances began to be the most interesting to him. There +had been glimpses of starlight in the intervals of the shifting spring +storms, and he had betaken himself, not in vain, to his observatory; but +no messenger, with precious leathern bag, had appeared on the partial +cessation of the rains to open, beyond the clouds of the political +hemisphere, views of the silent rise or sure progress of bright moral +truths behind the veil of prejudice and passion which was for a season +obscuring their lustre. Day after day had anxious eyes been fixed on the +ford of the creek; night after night had the doctor risen, and looked +abroad in starlight and in gloom, when the dogs were restless in the +court, or a fancied horse-tread was heard in the grassy road before the +house. + +This evening Dr. Sneyd was taking resolution to file the last newspapers +he had received, and to endorse and put away the letters which, having +been read till not an atom more of meaning could be extracted from them, +might now be kept in some place where they would be safer from friction +than in a philosopher’s pocket. The filing the newspapers was done with +his usual method and alacrity, but his hand shook while endorsing the +last of his letters; and he slowly opened the sheet, to look once more +at the signature,—not from sentiment, and because it was the signature +(for Dr. Sneyd was not a man of sentiment),—but in order to observe once +again whether there had been any such tremulousness in the hand that +wrote it as might affect the chance of the two old friends meeting again +in this world: the chance which he was unwilling to believe so slight as +it appeared to Mrs. Sneyd, and his son Arthur, and every body else. +Nothing more was discoverable from the writing, and the key was +resolutely turned upon the letter. The next glance fell upon the +materials of a valuable telescope, which lay along one side of the room, +useless till some glasses should arrive to replace those which had been +broken during the rough journey to this remote settlement. Piece by +piece was handled, fitted, and laid down again. Then a smile passed over +the philosopher’s countenance as his eye settled on the filmy orb of the +moon, already showing itself, though the sun had not yet touched the +western verge of the prairie. It was something to have the same moon to +look at through the same telescopes as when he was not alone in science, +in the depths of a strange continent. The face of the land had changed; +he had become but too well acquainted with the sea; a part of the +heavens themselves had passed away, and new worlds of light come before +him in their stead; but the same sun shone in at the south window of his +study; the same moon waxed and waned above his observatory; and he was +eager to be once more recognising her volcanoes and plains through the +instrument which he had succeeded in perfecting for use. This reminded +him to note down in their proper places the results of his last +observations; and in a single minute, no symptom remained of Dr. Sneyd +having old friends whom he longed to see on the other side of the world; +or of his having suffered from the deferred hope of tidings; or of his +feeling impatient about his large telescope; or of any thing but his +being engrossed in his occupation. + +Yet he heard the first gentle tap at the south window, and, looking over +his spectacles at the little boy who stood outside, found time to bid +him come in and wait for liberty to talk. The doctor went on writing, +the smile still on his face, and Temmy,—in other words, Temple Temple, +heir of Temple Lodge,—crept in at the window, and stole quietly about +the room to amuse himself, till his grandfather should be at liberty to +attend to him. While the pen scratched the paper, and ceased, and +scratched again, Temmy walked along the bookshelves, and peeped into the +cylinder of the great telescope, and cast a frightened look behind him +on having the misfortune to jingle some glasses, and then slid into the +low arm-chair to study for the hundredth time the prints that hung +opposite,—the venerable portraits of his grandfather’s two most intimate +friends. Temmy had learned to look on these wise men of another +hemisphere with much of the same respect as on the philosophers of a +former age. His grandfather appeared to him incalculably old, and +unfathomably wise; and it was his grandfather’s own assurance that these +two philosophers were older and wiser still. When to this was added the +breadth of land and sea across which they dwelt, it was no wonder that, +in the eyes of the boy, they had the sanctity of the long-buried dead. + +“Where is your grandmamma, Temmy?” asked Dr. Sneyd, at length, putting +away his papers. “Do you know whether she is coming to take a walk with +me?” + +“I cannot find her,” said the boy. “I went all round the garden, and +through the orchard——” + +“And into the poultry yard?” + +“Yes; and every where else. All the doors are open, and the place quite +empty. There is nobody at home here, nor in all the village, except at +our house.” + +“All gone to the squirrel-hunt; or rather to meet the hunters, for the +sport must be over by this time; but your grandmamma does not hunt +squirrels. We must turn out and find her. I dare say she is gone to the +Creek to look for the postman.” + +Temmy hoped that all the squirrels were not to be shot. Though there had +been far too many lately, he should be sorry if they were all to +disappear. + +“You will have your own two, in their pretty cage, at any rate, Temmy.” + +Temmy’s tearful eyes, twisted fingers, and scarlet colour, said the “no” +he could not speak at the moment. Grandpapa liked to get at the bottom +of every thing; and he soon discovered that the boy’s father had, for +some reason unknown, ordered that no more squirrels should be seen in +his house, and that the necks of Temmy’s favourites should be wrung. +Temmy had no other favourites instead. He did not like to begin with any +new ones without knowing whether he might keep them; and he had not yet +asked his papa what he might be permitted to have. + +“We must all have patience, Temmy, about our favourites. I have had a +great disappointment about one of mine.” + +Temmy brushed away his tears to hear what favourites grandpapa could +have. Neither cat, nor squirrel, nor bird had ever met his eye in this +house; and the dogs in the court were for use, not play. + +Dr. Sneyd pointed to his large telescope, and said that the cylinder, +without the lenses, was to him no more than a cage without squirrels +would be to Temmy. + +“But you will have the glasses by and by, grandpapa, and I——” + +“Yes; I hope to have them many months hence, when the snow is thick on +the ground, and the sleigh can bring me my packages of glass without +breaking them, as the last were broken that came over the log road. But +all this time the stars are moving over our heads; and in these fine +spring evenings I should like very much to be finding out many things +that I must remain ignorant of till next year; and I cannot spare a +whole year now so well as when I was younger.” + +“Cannot you do something while you are waiting?” was Temmy’s question. +His uncle Arthur would have been as much diverted at it as Dr. Sneyd +himself was; for the fact was, Dr. Sneyd had always twice as much +planned to be done as any body thought he could get through. Temmy did +not know what a large book he was writing; nor how much might be learned +by means of the inferior instruments; nor what a number of books the +philosopher was to read through, nor how large a correspondence was to +be carried on, before the snow could be on the ground again. + +“Now let us walk to the creek” was a joyful sound to the boy, who made +haste to find the doctor’s large straw hat. When the philosopher had put +it on, over his thin grey hair, he turned towards one of his many +curious mirrors, and laughed at his own image. + +“Temmy,” said he, “do you remember me before I wore this large hat? Do +you remember my great wig?” + +“O yes, and the black, three-cornered hat. I could not think who you +were the first day I met you without that wig. But I think I never saw +any body else with such a wig.” + +“And in England they would not know what to make of me without it. I was +just thinking how Dr. Rogers would look at me, if he could see me now; +he would call me quite an American,—very like a republican.” + +“Are you an American? Are you a republican?” + +“I was a republican in England, and in France, and wherever I have been, +as much as I am now. As to being an American, I suppose I must call +myself one; but I love England very dearly, Temmy. I had rather live +there than any where, if it were but safe for me; but we can make +ourselves happy here. Whatever happens, we always find afterwards, or +shall find when we are wiser, is for our good. Some people at home have +made a great mistake about me; but all mistakes will be cleared up some +time or other, my dear; and in the mean while, we must not be angry with +one another, though we cannot help being sorry for what has happened.” + +“I think uncle Arthur is very angry indeed. He said one day that he +would never live among those people in England again.” + +“I dare say there will be no reason for his living there; but he has +promised me to forgive them for misunderstanding and disliking me. And +you must promise me the same thing when you grow old enough to see what +such a promise means.—Come here, my dear. Stand just where I do, and +look up under the eaves. Do you see anything?” + +“O, I see a little bird moving!” + +Temmy could not tell what bird it was. He was a rather dull +child—usually called uncommonly stupid—as indeed he too often appeared. +Whither his wits strayed from the midst of the active little world in +which he lived, where the wits of everybody else were lively enough, no +one could tell—if, indeed, he had any wits. His father thought it +impossible that Temple Temple, heir of Temple Lodge and its fifty +thousand acres, should not grow up a very important personage. Mrs. +Temple had an inward persuasion, that no one understood the boy but +herself. Dr. Sneyd did not profess so to understand children as to be +able to compare Temmy with others, but thought him a good little fellow, +and had no doubt he would do very well. Mrs. Sneyd’s hopes and fears on +the boy’s account varied, while her tender pity was unremitting: and +uncle Arthur was full of indignation at Temple for cowing the child’s +spirit, and thus blunting his intellect. To all other observers it was +but too evident that Temmy did not know a martin from a crow, or a +sycamore from a thorn. + +“That bird is a martin, come to build under our eaves, my dear. If we +were to put up a box, I dare say the bird would begin to build in it +directly.” + +Temmy was for putting up a box, and his grandpapa for furnishing him +with favourites which should be out of sight and reach of Mr. Temple. In +two minutes, therefore, the philosopher was mounted on a high stool, +whence he could reach the low eaves; and Temmy was vibrating on tiptoe, +holding up at arms’ length that which, being emptied of certain +mysterious curiosities, (which might belong either to grandpapa’s +apparatus of science, or grandmamma’s of housewifery,) was now destined +to hold the winged curiosities which were flitting round during the +operation undertaken on their behalf. + +Before descending, the doctor looked about him, on the strange sight of +a thriving uninhabited village. Everybody seemed to be out after the +squirrel hunters. When, indeed, the higher ground near the Creek was +attained, Dr. Sneyd perceived that Mr. Temple’s family was at home. On +the terrace was the gentleman himself, walking backwards and forwards in +his usual after-dinner state. His lady (Dr. Sneyd’s only daughter) was +stooping among her flowers, while Ephraim, the black boy, was attending +at her heels, and the figures of other servants popped into sight and +away again, as they were summoned and dismissed by their master. The +tavern, kept by the surgeon of the place, stood empty, if it might be +judged by its open doors, where no one went in and out. Dods was not to +be seen in the brick-ground; which was a wonder, as Dods was a hard- +working man, and his task of making bricks for Mr. Temple’s grand +alterations had been so much retarded by the late rains that it was +expected of Dods that he would lose not a day nor an hour while the +weather continued fair. Mrs. Dods was not at work under her porch, as +usual, at this hour; nor was the young lawyer, Mr. Johnson, flitting +from fence to fence of the cottages on the prairie, to gather up and +convey the news of what had befallen since morning. About the rude +dwelling within the verge of the forest, there was the usual fluttering +of fowls and yelping of dogs; but neither was the half-savage woodsman +(only known by the name of Brawn) to be seen loitering about with his +axe, nor were his equally uncivilized daughters (the Brawnees) at their +sugar troughs under the long row of maples. The Indian corn seemed to +have chosen its own place for springing, and to be growing untended; so +rude were the fences which surrounded it, and so rank was the prairie +grass which struggled with it for possession of the furrows. The expanse +of the prairie was undiversified with a single living thing. A solitary +tree, or a cluster of bushes here and there, was all that broke the +uniformity of the grassy surface, as far as the horizon, where the black +forest rose in an even line, and seemed to seclude the region within its +embrace. There was not such an absence of sound as of motion. The waters +of the Creek, to which Dr. Sneyd and Temmy were proceeding, dashed +along, swollen by the late rains, and the flutter and splash of wild +fowl were heard from their place of assemblage,—the riffle of the Creek, +or the shallows formed by the unevenness of its rocky bottom. There were +few bird-notes heard in the forest; but the horses of the settlement +were wandering there, with bells about their necks. The breezes could +find no entrance into the deep recesses of the woods; but they whispered +in their play among the wild vines that hung from a height of fifty +feet. There was a stir also among the rhododendrons, thickets of which +were left to flourish on the borders of the wood; and with their rustle +in the evening wind were mingled the chirping, humming, and buzzing of +an indistinguishable variety of insects on the wing and among the grass. + +“I see grandmamma coming out of Dods’s porch,” cried Temmy. “What has +she been there for, all alone?” + +“I believe she has been the round of the cottages, feeding the pigs and +fowls, because the neighbours are away. This is like your grandmamma, +and it explains her being absent so long. You see what haste she is +making towards us. Now tell me whether you hear anything on the other +side of the Creek.” + +Temmy heard something, but he could not say what,—whether winds, or +waters, or horses, or insects, or all these. Dr. Sneyd thought he heard +cart wheels approaching along the smooth natural road which led out of +the forest upon the prairie. The light, firm soil of this kind of road +was so favourable for carriages, that they did not give the rumbling and +creaking notice of their approach which is common on the log road which +intersects a marsh. The post messenger was the uppermost person in Dr. +Sneyd’s thoughts just now, whether waggon wheels or horse tread greeted +his ear. He was partly right and partly wrong in his present +conjectures. A waggon appeared from among the trees, but it contained +nobody whom he could expect to be the bearer of letters;—nobody but +Arthur’s assistant Isaac, accompanied by Mr. Temple’s black man Julian, +bringing home a stock of groceries and other comforts from a distant +store, to which they had been sent to make purchases. + +The vehicle came to a halt on the opposite ridge; and no wonder, for it +was not easy to see how it was to make further progress. The Creek was +very fine to look at in its present state; but it was anything but +tempting to travellers. The water, which usually ran clear and shallow, +when there was more than enough to fill the deep holes in its bed, now +brought mud from its source, and bore on its troubled surface large +branches, and even trunks of trees. It was so much swollen from the late +rains that its depth was not easily ascertainable; but many a brier +which had lately overhung its course from the bank was now swaying in +its current, and looking lost in a new element. Isaac and Julian by +turns descended the bank to the edge of the water, but could not learn +thereby whether or not it was fordable. Their next proceeding was to +empty the cart, and drive into the flood by way of experiment.—The water +only half filled the vehicle, and the horse kept his footing admirably, +so that it was only to drive back again, and to bring the goods,—some on +the dry seat of the waggon, and some on the backs of Isaac and Julian, +as the one drove, and the other took care of the packages within. Two +trips, it was thought, would suffice to bring over the whole, high and +dry. + +“What are you all about here?” asked Mrs. Sneyd, who had come up +unobserved while her husband and grandchild were absorbed in watching +the passage of the Creek. “The goods arriving! Bless me! I hope they +will get over safely. It would be too provoking if poor Arthur should +lose his first batch of luxuries. He has lived so long on Indian corn +bread, and hominy, and wild turkeys, and milk, that it is time he should +be enjoying his meal of wheaten bread and tea.” + +“And the cloth for his new coat is there, grandmamma.” + +“Yes; and plenty of spice and other good things for your papa. I do not +know what he will say if they are washed away; but I care much more for +your coffee, my dear,” continued she, turning to the doctor. “I am +afraid your observations and authorship will suffer for want of your +coffee. Do try and make Isaac hear that he is to take particular care of +the coffee.” + +“Not I, my dear,” replied Dr. Sneyd, laughing. “I would advocate +Arthur’s affairs, if any. But the men seem to be taking all possible +care. I should advise their leaving the goods and cart together on the +other side, but that I rather think, there will be more rain before +morning, so as to make matters worse to-morrow, besides the risk of a +soaking during the night. Here they come! Now for it! How they dash down +the bank! There! They will upset the cart if they do not take care.” + +“That great floating tree will upset them. What a pity they did not see +it in time! There! I thought so.” + +The mischief was done. The trunk, with a new rush of water, was too much +for the light waggon. It turned over on its side, precipitating driver, +Julian, and all the packages into the muddy stream. The horse scrambled +and struggled till Isaac could regain his footing, and set the animal +free, while Julian was dashing the water from his face, and snatching at +one package after another as they eddied round him, preparatory to being +carried down the Creek. + +Dr. Sneyd caught the frightened horse, as he scampered up the briery +bank. Mrs. Sneyd shouted a variety of directions which would have been +excellent, if they could have been heard; while Temmy stood looking +stupid. + +“Call help, my dear boy,” said Dr. Sneyd. + +“Where? I do not know where to go.” + +“Do you hear the popping of guns in the wood? Some of the hunters are +coming back. Go and call them.” + +“Where? I do not know which way.” + +“In the direction of the guns, my dear. In that quarter, near the large +hickory. I think you will find them there.” + +Temmy did not know a hickory by sight; but he could see which way Dr. +Sneyd’s finger pointed; and he soon succeeded in finding the party, and +bringing them to the spot. + +“Arthur, I am very sorry,” said the doctor, on seeing his son come +running to view the disaster. “Mortal accidents, my dear son! We must +make up our minds to them.” + +“Yes, father, when they are purely accidents: but this is +carelessness,—most provoking carelessness.” + +“Indeed, the men did make trial of what they were about,” said the +doctor. + +“The great tree came down so very fast!” added Temmy. + +“Yes, yes. I am not blaming Isaac. It was my carelessness in not +throwing a bridge over the Creek long ago. Never mind that now! Let us +save what we can.” + +It was a sorry rescue. The cart was broken, but it could be easily +mended. The much-longed-for wheaten flour appeared in the shape of a +sack of soiled pulp, which no one would think of swallowing. The coffee +might be dried. The tea was not altogether past hope. Sugar, salt, and +starch, were melted into one mass. Mr. Temple’s spices were supposed to +be by this time perfuming the stream two miles below; his wax candles +were battered, so that they could, at best, be used only as short ends; +and the oil for his hall lamps was diffusing a calm over the surface of +the stream. Mrs. Sneyd asked her husband whether some analogous +appliance could not be found for the proprietor’s ruffled temper, when +he should hear of the disaster. + +The news could not be long in reaching him, for the other party of +squirrel-hunters, bringing with them all the remaining women and +children of the village, appeared from the forest, and the tidings +spread from mouth to mouth. As soon as Temmy saw that Uncle Arthur was +standing still, and looking round him for a moment, he put one of his +mistimed questions, at the end of divers remarks. + +“How many squirrels have you killed, uncle? I do not think you can have +killed any at all; we saw so many as we came up here! Some were running +along your snake fence, uncle; and grandpapa says they were not of the +same kind as those that run up the trees. But we saw a great many run up +the trees, too. I dare say, half a dozen or a dozen. How many have you +killed, uncle?” + +“Forty-one. The children there will tell you all about it.” + +“Forty-one! And how many did David kill? And your whole party, uncle?” + +Arthur gave the boy a gentle push towards the sacks of dead squirrels, +and Temmy, having no notion why or how he had been troublesome, amused +himself with pitying the slaughtered animals, and stroking his cheeks +with the brushes of more than a hundred of them. He might have gone on +to the whole number bagged,—two hundred and ninety-three,—if his +attention had not been called off by the sudden silence which preceded a +speech from uncle Arthur. + +“Neighbours,” said Arthur, “I take the blame of this mischance upon +myself. I will not say that some of you might not have reminded me to +bridge the Creek, before I spent my time and money on luxuries that we +could have waited for a while longer; but the chief carelessness was +mine, I freely own. It seems a strange time to choose for asking a +favour of you——” + +He was interrupted by many a protestation that his neighbours were ready +to help to bridge the Creek; that it was the interest of all that the +work should be done, and not a favour to himself alone. He went on:— + +“I was going to say that when it happens to you, as now to me, that you +wish to exchange the corn that you grow for something that our prairies +do not produce, you will feel the want of such a bridge as much as I do +now; though I hope through a less disagreeable experience. In self- +defence, I must tell you, however, how little able I have been till +lately to provide any but the barest necessaries for myself and my men. +This will show you that I cannot now pay you for the work you propose to +do.” + +He was interrupted by assurances that nobody wanted to be paid; that +they would have a bridging frolic, as they had before had a raising +frolic to build the surgeon’s tavern, and a rolling frolic to clear +Brawn’s patch of ground, and as they meant to have a reaping frolic when +the corn should be ripe. It should be a pic-nic. Nobody supposed that +Arthur had yet meat, bread, and whisky to spare. + +“I own that I have not,” said he. “You know that when I began to till my +ground, I had no more capital than was barely sufficient to fence and +break up my fields, and feed me and my two labourers while my first crop +was growing. Just before it ripened, I had nothing left; but what I had +spent was well spent. It proved a productive consumption indeed; for my +harvest brought back all I had spent, with increase. This increase was +not idly consumed by me. I began to pay attention to my cattle, improved +my farm buildings, set up a kiln, and employed a labourer in making +bricks. The fruits of my harvest were thus all consumed; but they were +again restored with increase. Then I thought I might begin to indulge +myself with the enjoyment for which I had toiled so long and so hard. I +did not labour merely to have so much corn in my barns, but to enjoy the +corn, and whatever else it would bring me,—as we all do,—producing, +distributing, and exchanging, that we may afterwards enjoy.” + +“Not quite all, Mr. Arthur,” said Johnson, the lawyer. “There is your +brother-in-law, Mr. Temple, who seems disposed to enjoy everything, +without so much as soiling his fingers with gathering a peach. And there +is a certain friend of ours, settled farther east, who toils like a +horse, and lives like a beggar, that he may hoard a roomful of dollars.” + +“Temple produces by means of the hoarded industry of his fathers,—by +means of his capital,” replied Arthur. “And the miser you speak of +enjoys his dollars, I suppose, or he would change them away for +something else. Well, friends, there is little temptation for us to +hoard up our wealth. We have corn instead of dollars, and corn will not +keep like dollars.” + +“Why should it?” asked Dods the brickmaker. “Who would take the trouble +to raise more corn than he wants to eat, if he did not hope to exchange +it for something desirable?” + +“Very true. Then comes the question, what a man shall choose in +exchange. I began pretty well. I laid out some of my surplus in +providing for a still greater next year; which, in my circumstances, was +my first duty. Then I began to look to the end for which I was working; +and I reached forward to it a little too soon. I should have roasted my +corn ears and drank milk a little longer, and expended my surplus on a +bridge, before I thought of wheaten flour and tea and coffee.” + +“Three months hence,” said somebody, “you will be no worse off (except +for the corn ears and milk you must consume instead of flour and tea) +than if you had had your wish. Your flour and tea would have been clean +gone by that time, without any return.” + +“You grant that I must go without the pleasure,” said Arthur, smiling. +“Never mind that. But you will not persuade me that it is not a clear +loss to have flour spoiled, and sugar and salt melted together in the +creek; unless, indeed, they go to fatten the fish in the holes. Besides, +there is the mortification of feeling that your toil in making this +bridge might have been paid with that which is lost in the purchase of +luxuries which none will enjoy.” + +Being vehemently exhorted to let this consideration give him no concern, +he concluded, + +“I will take your advice, thank you. I will not trouble myself or you +more about this loss; and I enlarge upon it now only because it may be +useful to us as a lesson how to use the fruits of our labour. I have +been one of the foremost to laugh at our neighbours in the next +settlement for having,—not their useful frolics, like ours of to- +morrow,—but their shooting-matches and games in the wood, when the water +was so bad that it was a grievance to have to drink it. I was as ready +as any one to see that the labour spent on these pastimes could not be +properly afforded, if there were really no hands to spare to dig wells. +And now, instead of asking them when they mean to have their welling +frolic, our wisest way will be to get our bridge up before there is time +for our neighbours to make a laughing-stock of us. When that is done, I +shall be far from satisfied. I shall still feel that it is owing to me +that my father goes without his coffee, while he is watching through the +night when we common men are asleep. + +”That is as much Temple’s concern as the young man’s," observed the +neighbours one to another. “Freely as he flings his money about, one +would think Temple might see that the doctor was at least as well +supplied with luxuries as himself.” “Why the young man should be left to +toil and make capital so painfully and slowly, when Temple squanders so +much, is a mystery to every body.” "A quarter of what Temple has spent +in making and unmaking his garden would have enabled Arthur Sneyd’s new +field to produce double, or have improved his team; and Temple himself +would have been all the better for the interest it would have yielded, +instead of his money bringing no return. But Temple is not the man to +lend a helping hand to a young farmer,—be he his brother-in-law or a +mere stranger." + +Such were the remarks which Arthur was not supposed to hear, and to +which he did not therefore consider himself called upon to reply. +Seeing his father and mother in eager consultation with the still +dripping Isaac, he speedily completed the arrangements for the next +day’s meeting, toils, and pleasures, and joined the group. Isaac had +but just recollected that in his pocket he brought a packet of +letters and several newspapers, which had found their way, in some +circuitous manner, to the store where he had been trafficking. The +whole were deplorably soaked with mud. It seemed doubtful whether a +line of the writing could ever be made out. But Mrs. Sneyd’s +cleverness had been proved equal to emergencies nearly as great as +this. She had once got rid of the stains of a stand full of ink +which had been overset on a parchment which bore a ten-guinea stamp. +She had recovered the whole to perfect smoothness, and fitness to be +written upon. Many a time had she contrived to restore the writing +which had been discharged from her father’s manuscript chemical +lectures, when spillings from his experiments had occurred scarcely +half an hour before the lecture-room began to fill. No wonder her +husband was now willing to confide in her skill—no wonder he was +anxious to see Temmy home as speedily as possible, that he might +watch the processes of dipping and drying and unfolding, on which +depended almost the dearest of his enjoyments,—intercourse with +faithful friends far away. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE GENTLEMAN AT HOME. + + +Master Temple Temple was up early, and watching the weather, the next +morning, with far more eagerness than his father would have approved, +unless some of his own gentlemanlike pleasures had been in question. If +Mr. Temple had known that his son and heir cared for the convenience of +his industrious uncle Arthur, and of a parcel of labourers, the boy +would hardly have escaped a long lecture on the depravity of his tastes, +and the vulgarity of his sympathies. But Mr. Temple knew nothing that +passed prior to his own majestic descent to the breakfast-room, where +the silver coffee-pot was steaming fragrantly, and the windows were +carefully opened or scrupulously shut, so as to temper the visitations +of the outward air, while his lady sat awaiting his mood, and trembling +lest he should find nothing that he could eat among the variety of forms +of diet into which the few elements at the command of her cook had been +combined. Mrs. Temple had never been very happy while within reach of +markets and shops; but she was now often tempted to believe that almost +all her troubles would be at an end if she had but the means of +indulging her husband’s fastidious appetite. It was a real misery to be +for ever inventing, and for ever in vain, new cookeries of Indian corn, +beef, lean pork, geese and turkeys, honey and milk. Beyond these +materials, she had nothing to depend upon but chance arrivals of flour, +pickles, and groceries; and awfully passed the day when there was any +disappointment at breakfast. She would willingly have surrendered her +conservatory, her splendid ornaments, the pictures, plate, and even the +library of her house, and the many thousand acres belonging to it, to +give to her husband such an unscrupulous appetite as Arthur’s, or such a +cheerful temper as Dr. Sneyd’s. It was hard that her husband’s ill- +humour about his privations should fall upon her; for she was not the +one who did the deed, whatever it might be, which drove the gentleman +from English society. The sacrifice was quite as great to her as it +could possibly be to him; and there was inexpressible meanness in +Temple’s aggravating, by complaints of his own share, the suffering +which he had himself brought upon her. Temple seemed always to think +himself a great man, however; and always greatest when causing the +utmost sensation in those about him. + +This morning, he stalked into the breakfast room in remarkable state. He +looked almost as tall as his wife when about to speak to her, and was as +valiant in his threats against the people who disturbed him by passing +before his window, as his son in planning his next encounter with +Brawn’s great turkey. + +“Come away from the window, this moment, Temple. I desire you will never +stand there when the people are flocking past in this manner. Nothing +gratifies them more. They blow those infernal horns for no other purpose +than to draw our attention. Ring the bell, Temple.” + +When Marius appeared, in answer to the bell, he was ordered to pull down +that blind; and if the people did not go away directly, to bid them +begone, and blow their horns somewhere out of his hearing. + +"They will be gone soon enough, sir. It is a busy day with them. They +are making a frolic to bridge the Creek, because of what happened—" + +A terrified glance of Mrs. Temple’s stopped the man in his reference to +what had taken place the evening before. It was hoped that the stock of +coffee might be husbanded till more could arrive, that the idea of +chocolate might be insinuated into the gentleman’s mind, and that the +shortness of the wax candles, and the deficiency of light in the hall at +night, might possibly escape observation. + +“The bridge over the Creek being much wanted by every body, sir,” +continued Marius, "every body is joining the frolic to work at it; that +is, if——" + +“Not I, nor any of my people. Let me hear no more about it, if you +please. I have given no orders to have a bridge built.” + +Marius withdrew. The cow-horns were presently no longer heard—not that +Marius had done any thing to silence them. He knew that the blowers were +not thinking of either him or his master; but merely passing to their +place of rendezvous, calling all frolickers together by the way. + +“Temple, you find you can live without your squirrels, I hope,” said the +tender father. “Now, no crying! I will not have you cry.” + +“Bring me your papa’s cup, my dear,” interposed his mother; “and +persuade him to try these early strawberries. The gardener surprised us +this morning with a little plate of strawberries. Tell your papa about +the strawberries in the orchard, my dear.” + +In the intervals of sobs, and with streaming eyes, Temmy told the happy +news that strawberries had spread under all the trees in the orchard, +and were so full of blossom, that the gardener thought the orchard would +soon look like a field of white clover. + +“Wild strawberries, I suppose. Tasteless trash!” was the remark upon +this intelligence. + +Before a more promising subject was started, the door opened, and Dr. +Sneyd appeared. Mr. Temple hastened to rise, put away, with a prodigious +crackling and shuffling, the papers he held, quickened Temmy’s motions +in setting a chair, and pressed coffee and strawberries on “the old +gentleman,” as he was wont to call Dr. Sneyd. It was impossible that +there could be much sympathy between two men so unlike; but it +singularly happened that Dr. Sneyd had a slighter knowledge than any +body in the village of the peculiarities of his son-in-law. He was +amused at some of his foibles, vexed at others, and he sighed, at times, +when he saw changes of looks and temper creeping over his daughter, and +thought what she might have been with a more suitable companion; but +Temple stood in so much awe of the philosopher as to appear a somewhat +different person before him and in any other presence. Temmy now knew +that he was safe from misfortune for half an hour; and being unwilling +that grandpapa should see traces of tears, he slipped behind the window +blind, to make his observations on the troop which was gathering in the +distance on the way to the creek. He stood murmuring to himself,—"There +goes Big Brawn and the Brawnees! I never saw any women like those +Brawnees. I think they could pull up a tall tree by the roots, if they +tried. I wonder when they will give me some more honey to taste. There +goes Dods! He must be tired before the frolic begins; for he has been +making bricks ever since it was light. I suppose he is afraid papa will +be angry if he does not make bricks as fast as he can. Papa was so angry +with the rain for spoiling his bricks before! There goes David——" And so +on, through the entire population, out of the bounds of Temple Lodge. + +“I came to ask,” said the doctor, “how many of your men you can spare to +this frolic to-day. Arthur will be glad of all the assistance that can +be had, that the work may be done completely at once.” + +The reply was, that Arthur seemed an enterprising young man. + +"He is: just made for his lot. But I ought not to call this Arthur’s +enterprise altogether. The Creek is no more his than it is yours or +mine. The erection is for the common good, as the disaster last +night"—(a glance from Mrs. Temple to her husband’s face, and a peep from +Temmy, from behind the blind)—“was, in fact, a common misfortune.” + +Mr. Temple took snuff, and asked no questions at present. + +“I have been telling my wife,” observed the doctor, “that I am +prodigiously tempted to try the strength of my arm myself, to-day.” + +"I hope not, my dear sir. Your years——The advancement of science, you +know——Just imagine its being told in Paris, among your friends of the +Institute, that you had been helping to build a bridge! Temple, ring the +bell." + +Marius was desired to send Ephraim to receive his master’s commands. In +a few minutes, the door slowly opened, a strange metallic sound was +heard, and a little negro boy, stunted in form and mean in countenance, +stood bowing in the presence. + +"Ephraim, go into the park field, and tell Martin to send as many +labourers as he can spare to help to bridge the creek. And as you come +back——" + +During this time, Dr. Sneyd had turned on his chair to observe the boy. +He now rose rapidly, and went to convince himself that his eyes did not +deceive him. It was really true that the right ankle and left wrist of +the little lad were connected by a light fetter. + +“Who has the key of this chain?” asked Dr. Sneyd of his daughter, who, +blushing scarlet, looked towards her husband. + +“Give it me,” said the doctor, holding out his hand. + +“Excuse me, my dear sir. You do not know the boy.” + +“Very true: but that does not alter the case. The key, if you please.” + +After a moment’s hesitation, it was produced from the waistcoat pocket. +Dr. Sneyd set the boy free, bade him make haste to do his master’s +bidding, and quietly doubling the chain, laid it down on a distant +table. + +“He never made haste in his life, sir,” protested Mr. Temple. “You do +not know the lad, sir, believe me.” + +“I do not: and I am sorry to hear such an account of him. This is a +place where no one can be allowed to loiter and be idle.” + +Ephraim showed that he could make haste; for he lost no time in getting +out of the room, when he had received his final orders. At the moment, +and for a few moments more, Dr. Sneyd was relating to his daughter the +contents of the letters received from England the night before. Mr. +Temple meanwhile was stirring the fire, flourishing his handkerchief, +and summoning courage to be angry with Dr. Sneyd. + +“Do you know, sir,” said he, at length, "that boy is my servant? Let me +tell you, that for one gentleman to interfere with another gentleman’s +servants is——" + +Dr. Sneyd was listening so calmly, with his hands resting on the head of +his cane, that Temple’s words, somehow or other, failed him. + +"Such interference is——is——This boy, sir, is my servant." + +“Your servant, but not your slave. Do you know, Temple, it is I who +might call you to account, rather than you me. As one of the same race +with this boy, I have a right to call you to account for making property +of that which is no property. There is no occasion, I trust, for you and +me to refer this matter to a magistrate: but, till compelled to do so, I +have a full right to strike off chains wherever I meet with them.” + +"You may meet with them in the woods, or as far over the prairie as you +are likely to walk, my dear sir, for this lad is a notorious runaway: he +has escaped three times. Nothing short of such an offence could have +made me do any thing which might appear harsh. If he runs away again, I +assure you I shall be compelled to employ the restraint in question: I +give you warning that I must. So, if you should meet him, thus +restrained, you know——" + +"O, yes; I shall know what to do. I shall take off the chain that he may +hie the faster.——I see your conservatory is in great beauty. I imagine +you must have adopted Arthur’s notion about warming it." + +“Not Mr. Sneyd’s. O, no; it was Mrs. Temple’s idea.” + +“Not originally; it was Arthur who advised me,” declared Mrs. Temple. “I +hope you will soon have some of the benefit of his devices about the +kitchen-garden, father. The gardener has orders to send you some of the +first vegetables and fruit that are ready for gathering; and I am going +to carry my mother some flowers to-day.” + +“I was about to ask when you will dine with us,” said Dr. Sneyd. “I +think it had better be when some of the good things you speak of are +ready; for we have few luxuries to offer you. But when will you come?” + +Mr. Temple was sorry that his time was now so occupied with +business,—his affairs at the land-office, in addition to all his own +concerns,—that he could form no engagements. Mrs. Temple would answer +for herself and her son. + +Dr. Sneyd was not aware of this new occupation of Mr. Temple’s. He was +particularly glad to hear of it, and told it to his wife as a piece of +very good news, as soon as he got home. They both hoped that their +daughter would be all the happier for her husband having something to do +and to think about, beyond his own affairs. + +“What is all this?” cried Mr. Temple, returning from bowing out Dr. +Sneyd with much civility. “What accident happened last night, pray?” + +On being told of the upsetting of the waggon, he was not the less angry +for his internal consciousness that he caused himself to be treated like +a child, by being unable to bear cross accidents. His horse was ordered +instantly, his morning gown exchanged for his pretty riding equipments, +and his wife and son left to gaze from one window and another to learn, +if possible, what was to happen next, and to reason with one another +about their lesser troubles, after the manner of tender mothers and +confiding children. Temmy saw very clearly that it could do no good to +cry whenever squirrels were mentioned, and that it must be much +pleasanter to papa to see his boy smile, and to hear him answer +cheerfully, than——The child’s memory could supply the contrast. This +same papa was all the time in great trouble without reasoning. He +pursued his way to the Creek as if he had been in mortal terror of the +groom who followed at his heels. + +“Aside the devil turned for envy,” says Milton. Such a pang has since +been the lot of many a splenetic descendant of the arch-fiend, on +witnessing happiness that he not only could not share, but could not +sympathize in. Such a pang exasperated Mr. Temple on casting his first +glance over the scene of the frolic. He despised every body there, from +Arthur, now brandishing his rule, now lending a hand to place a heavy +beam, to the youngest of Dods’s children, who thought she was helping by +sticking corn-cobs into the crevices of the logs. He despised Brawn, the +woodsman, with his round shoulders, enormous bush of hair, and hands +that looked as if they could lift up a house. He despised the daughters, +Black Brawnee and Brown Brawnee, as they were called. He was never very +easy when he fell in with these girls in the depths of the forest, +tapping their row of maple trees, and kneeling at the troughs beneath; +or on the flowery prairie, lining the wild bees to their haunt in the +hollow tree. He felt himself an object of ridicule to these daughters of +the forest, and so insignificant in respect of all the qualifications +which they valued, that none of his personal accomplishments gave him +any comfortable feeling of confidence in their presence; and the +merriment with which they now pursued as sport a toil which would have +been death to him, irritated him to a degree which they were amused to +witness. He despised the whole apparatus of festivity: the pig roasting +in the shade, and the bustle of the women preparing the various messes +of corn, and exhibiting their stores of salt beef. He pronounced the +whole vulgar,—so excessively vulgar,—that he could not endure that a son +of Dr. Sneyd’s should be assisting in the fête. The axe and mattock +sounded in a very annoying way; the buzz of voices and of laughter were +highly discreditable to the order of the place; and the work was so +rough that, in all probability, he should be obliged to witness some +wounds or bruises if he did not get away. So he hastened to conceal his +envy from himself, and to express his contempt as plainly as possible. + +He raised himself in his stirrups, and called out his men by name. They +came forth unwillingly, having but just arrived to join the frolic, and +suspecting that their capricious master meant to send them home again. A +glance of mutual condolence between two of them was observed by Mr. +Temple, and did no good to their cause. They were ordered to return +instantly to their work in the park-field, and to appear no more near +the Creek this day. + +“We will do some of their work in the park-field to-morrow, Mr. Temple,” +said Arthur, “if you will let us have the benefit of their labour now.” + +Under a sense of infinite obligation, Mr. Temple explained that he +permitted none but his own people,—no vagabond woodsmen,—no workmen who +came hither because they were driven out of the civilized world,—to +touch his land. And, after the losses of the preceding evening, he could +not think of giving his men a holiday,—losses of which Arthur had not +even had the grace to apprize him. Arthur was surprized. He could not +have supposed that such a piece of news could have been long in +travelling through the village of Briery Creek, considering that +Temple’s man had been one of the waggoners, Temple’s son a witness of +the whole, and the entire population of the place on the spot before the +adventure was finished. Why was it more Arthur’s duty than any one’s +else to carry him the disagreeable news? + +"Your not having done it, Mr. Sneyd, is of a piece with your conduct +about the cattle-marks, sir,—of a piece with the whole of your conduct +since you entered upon your speculations in my neighbourhood. My men +shall know the story of the cattle-marks, sir, and then we shall see +which of them will stir a finger to help you with your bridge." + +“What about the cattle-marks?” asked Arthur, with a perplexed look. “If +you told me, I am afraid I have forgotten.” + +“You could have given me the earliest intelligence, I fancy, sir. If I +mistake not, you have entered, at the land-office, your design of +marking your sheep and pigs with three slanting slits in the right ear.” + +This was true. + +"And your determination was not made known,—it was not, in fact, +taken,—till the fifteenth of last month." + +“I dare say not. I planned it just before my second visit to the land- +office, which was about the middle of last month.” + +“Very well, sir; the fifteenth was your day. Now, I have evidence to +prove that on the thirteenth I informed my son, who, I understand, +informed Dr. Sneyd, that it was my intention to mark my cattle with +three slanting slits in the right ear.” + +“Well! what then?” + +"Why, just that circumstances have so fallen out as to defeat your +design, sir, which I will not stop to characterize. I have a connexion +with the land-office, sir, which you were perhaps not aware of; and my +sheep and pigs will run no risk of being confounded with yours. It is +very well to ask—‘What then?’ I should like to know whether my sheep and +pigs do not far out-number yours: and how was any one to distinguish the +one from the other, straying in the woods and prairies, if all were +marked with three slanting slits in the right ear?" + +Arthur would not stoop to reply to the insinuations of his brother-in- +law. He did, for a moment, condescend to lose his temper, and would +probably have frightened the intruder off the ground by an exhibition of +passion, if the Brawnees and their father, and a few others who had +nothing to hope or fear from Temple, had not relieved him by a timely +burst of laughter. Dods dared not laugh, for he was brickmaker to +Temple; and much building remained to be done about the lodge. Others, +among whom the gentleman’s money was distributed in profusion, appeared +not to observe what was going on. Arthur only observed, before +recommencing his labours,— + +“I am surprised to hear all this, Mr. Temple. I thought your cattle had +been much too proud to stray about the woods like the beasts of poor, +common settlers like us. I am sure when I grow rich enough to have +stables, and styes, and pens, such as you can command, my horses will +never be heard tinkling their bells in the forest in the evening, and +nobody will run over a pig of mine in the prairie.” + +“And yet you can spare time to build bridges, Mr. Sneyd; and you can +contribute materials for a market-house and a cheese dairy. It is not to +every body that you complain of poverty.” + +“To no one do I complain of poverty. I am not poor. Nobody present is +poor. There was but one short period when any of us could be justly +called so; and that was when each of us had barely enough to supply his +own actual wants.” + +“That did not last long,” said Dods. “In a young settlement like ours, +two years ago, every act of labour tells. Ah! there goes my gentleman! I +thought so. He never stays to be reminded what a barbarous place he has +got into.” + +“Whatever brought him here,” observed Brawn, “is more than any of us can +tell. I have seen new settlers enough in my day, my life having lain +among new clearings. Many a rough farmer, many a pale mechanic, have I +seen; the one looking gloomily into the waste before him, and the other +sinking under the toil that was too new to him. And many a trader has +passed through with his stores, and many a speculator come to gamble in +land, and go away again. But a beau like this, with a power of money to +spend, without caring to earn any, is a thing I have heard tell of far +to the east, but never thought to see. It makes one waken one’s ears to +hear what travellers tell of the reason.” + +Arthur could have told the reason, as his neighbours knew; and it was +probably the hope that he might forget his discretion that made the +gossips of Briery Creek betake themselves to conjectures in his hearing +as often as he was believed to have received provocation from Temple. He +was never known, however, to deny or confirm anything that was said. It +was pretty well understood that Temple had come here because he had made +his former place of residence too hot to hold him; but whether he had +libelled or slain anybody, made himself odious as an informer, enriched +himself by unfair means, or been unfortunate in a duel, it still +remained for some accidental revelation to make known. + +“How is it, Dods, that you think every act of labour tells in a young +settlement?” asked Arthur, on resuming work after a large destruction of +roast pig. “I have always understood that labour is worth more the more +it is divided; and nowhere is there less division of labour than in a +young settlement.” + +“Very true. I hold that we are both right, because we are speaking of +different states of affairs. Before people have enough of anything to +change away, and while each man works for himself, each touch of his +finger, if one may say so, supplies some want of his own. No need, in +such days, to trouble your head about whether your work will sell! You +want a thing; you make it, and use it; and thereby feel how much your +work is worth. But the case is different when you have more of a thing +than you want, and would fain change it away. You cannot change it away +unless others have also something more than they want to use themselves. +Then they begin to club their labour together, and divide the work among +them, and try by what means they can get the most done; by such division +of labour they do get the most done, but it does not follow that the +workmen flourish accordingly, as they do when each works for himself.” + +“Because it becomes more difficult to calculate how much of each sort of +production will be wanted. The matter becomes perplexed by the wishes of +so many being concerned. If we could understand those wishes, the more +we can get produced, the better it would be for everybody.” + +“I have tried both the periods we speak of,” said Dods. "Brickmaking was +a fine business indeed in the part of England where I lived when trade +was brisk, and manufacturers building country-houses, and speculators +running up rows of cottages for weavers. But a sudden change knocked me +up when I least expected it. I went on one summer making bricks as +before;—for what should I know of the changes that were taking place on +the other side of the world, and that spread through our manufacturers, +and weavers, and builders, till they reached me? The first I knew of it +was, my not selling a brick for the whole season, and seeing house after +house deserted, till it was plain that my unbaked bricks must melt in +the winter rains, and those in the kilns crumble in the storms, before +my labour would be wanted again in that line. As for my little capital, +it melted and crumbled away with the bricks it was locked up in. Here +mine was, for a long while, the only brick house. I made not a brick too +much; so that there was no waste." + +“And the same may be said of the work you do for Mr. Temple. There may +be an exact calculation how many bricks are wanted, so that you can +proportion your supply exactly to the demand.” + +“And use the advantage of division of labour too, sir. No fear of a glut +coming unawares, when I have the whole of our little range under my own +eye. One of my boys may dig the clay, and another barrow the bricks to +the kiln, and the eldest tend the fires, while I am moulding, and no +fear of our all being thrown out at once by an unexpected glut; and the +more disastrously, perhaps, for our having turned our mutual help to the +best account.” + +“I rather think your labour is stimulated rather than relaxed by the +high wages you get here, Mr. Dods.” + +"Why, yes. That seems the natural effect of high wages, whatever people +may say of the desperate hard work of such poor creatures as the Glasgow +weavers, or the Manchester spinners. I say, look to the Irish, who have +very poor wages. Do they work hard? I say, look to the labourers in +India. They have miserable wages. Do they work hard? The difference +between these and the Lancashire spinners seems to me to be, that in +India and Ireland, some sort of subsistence,—rice and potatoes, poor +enough,—is to be had for little labour, and little more can be gained by +greater labour; while the Lancashire poor can only get a bare +subsistence by excessive labour, and therefore they labour excessively. +Put a poor diet of rice within reach of the Lancashire spinner, with the +knowledge that he can get nothing better, and he will do as little work +as will procure him a bare subsistence of rice. But try all three with +high wages, in circumstances where they may add one comfort after +another to their store, and you will see whether they will relax in +their toils till they have got all that labour can obtain." + +“I say, look to the reason of the case, and it will tell the same story +as the facts. If a man is lazy, and loves idleness more than the good +things which industry will bring, there is an end of the matter, as far +as he is concerned. He is an exception to common rules. But, as long as +there is no end to the comforts and luxuries which most men prefer to +idleness, there will be no end of exertion to obtain them. I believe you +and your sons work harder than you did two years ago, though you have +ten times as many comforts about you.” + +"And my wife, too, I assure you. At first, we used to sit down tired +before the end of the day, and if we had bread enough for supper, and +blankets to spread on the floor of our log-house, were apt to think we +could do no more that day, But when we had wherewith to get salt beef, +we thought we could work a little harder for something pleasanter to +drink with it than the brackish water which was used by us all at first, +for want of a sweeter draught. In like manner, when we once had a brick +cottage, there was no end of our toil to get things to put into +it;—first, bedsteads, and seats, and a table; and then crockery, and +hardware, and matting for the floors; and now my wife has set her mind +upon carpets, and a looking-glass for her customers to fancy her +handiwork by. She says ladies always admire her gowns and bonnets most +when they see them on themselves. It was but this morning that my wife +vowed that a handsome looking-glass was a necessary of life to her. We +should all have laughed enough at the idea of such a speech two years +ago." + +“And with the wish, your wife brings the power to obtain these +comforts.” + +"The wish would be worth little without the power; which makes it a +merciful arrangement that the wish only grows with the power. If my wife +had longed for a looking-glass before she was able to set about earning +one with her mantua-making and milliner’s work, she would have been +suffering under a useless trouble. No: it is a good thing that while +people are solitary, producing only for themselves, there is no demand +for other people’s goods——" + +"I should say ‘desire.’ There is no demand till the power and the will +are joined. If your wife had pined for a mirror two years ago, there +would have been no demand for it on her part. To-morrow, if she offers a +travelling trader a smart assortment of caps,—or, what is the same +thing, if she sells her caps to the women of Briery Creek, and gives the +trader the money for his mirror,—she makes a real and effective demand. +It seems to me a blessed arrangement, too, that there is always somewhat +wherewith to supply this demand, and exactly enough to supply it." + +“Ay, sir; if we were but sharp-sighted enough to take care that the +quality was as exactly fitted to human wishes as the quantity. Since we +none of us produce more than we want, just for the pleasure of toiling, +it is as plain as possible that every man’s surplus constitutes a +demand. Well! every man’s surplus is also his neighbour’s supply. The +instrument of demand that every man brings is also his instrument of +supply; so that, in point of quantity, there is always a precise +provision made for human wants.” + +"Yes; and if mistakes are made as to the kinds of articles that are +wished for, there is always the consolation that such mistakes will +correct one another, as long as there can never be too much of +everything. If what we have just said be true, there being too much of +one thing proves that there must be too little of another; and the +production of the one will be slackened, and that of the other +quickened, till they are made equal. If your wife makes up more caps by +half than are wanted, caps will be ruinously cheap. The Brawnees will +give much less maple sugar for their caps——" + +The Brawnees never wore caps, Arthur was reminded. + +“But they will, in time, take my word for it, if they remain among us. +Well! your wife will refuse to sell her caps at so great a loss. She +will lay them by till the present generation of caps is worn out, and go +and tap the maple trees for herself, rather than pay others dearly for +it. In this case, the glut is of caps; and the deficiency is of maple +sugar.” + +“My wife’s gains must depend on her own judgment in adapting her +millinery to the wants of her customers. If she makes half as many caps +again as are needed, she deserves to lose, and to have to go out sugar- +making for herself.” + +"Yes: calculation may avail in a small society like this. In a larger +and more complicated society, the most that prudence can do is to watch +the changes of wants and wishes, as shown by variations of price. This +would avail for all practical purposes, if wants and wishes were left to +themselves. They are so at Briery Creek, and therefore every trader at +Briery Creek has fair play. But it is not so where bounties, and +prohibitions, and unequal taxation are made to interfere among buyers +and sellers: where such disturbing influences exist, the trader has not +fair play; and it would be a miracle indeed if he could adapt his supply +to the demand,—or, in other words, be satisfied in his own demand. What +is moving in the wood there, Dods? What takes all our people away from +their work when it is so nearly finished?" + +“It must be some rare sight,” observed Dods. “Every one, look ye, man, +woman, and child, skipping over the new bridge while half of it is +prettily gravelled, and the other half still bare and slippery. See how +they scramble over the heap of gravel left in the middle! I suppose I +must follow where they lead, and bring you the news, sir.” + +Before Dods had time to complete his first passage over the new bridge, +the news told itself. A company of soldiers, on their way to occupy a +military post near, emerged from the green depths of the forest, and +appeared to be making straight for the ford, without looking to the +right hand or to the left. Their pleasure was instantly visible when, +their attention being attracted by a shout from the throng of settlers, +they perceived a substantial bridge, finished except the gravelling, +overhanging the stream through which they had expected to be compelled +to wade. They received with hearty good-will their commander’s +directions to pay toll of their labour for their passage. Never was a +public work finished in a more joyous style. The heap of gravel was +levelled in a trice; and, by particular desire, a substantial handrail +was fixed for the benefit of careless children, or of any whose nerves +might be affected by the sight of the restless waters below. Temple was +riding along a ridge whence he could look down, and hoped to observe how +much the work was retarded by his labourers being withdrawn. When he saw +that no help of his was wanted,—that the erection was now complete, the +refuse logs being piled up out of the way, the boughs carried off for +fuel, the tools collected, and preparations made for the crowning +repast,—he put spurs to his horse, and cast hard words at his groom for +allowing him to forget that he was likely to be late home to dinner. + +Arthur, meantime, was engaged with the commander, who explained that his +men and he would be glad of the advantage of attending divine service on +the Sunday, if there was any place within reach of their post where they +might do so. The only place of worship at present in Briery Creek was +Dr. Sneyd’s house, where he had conducted service since his arrival, for +the benefit of all who wished to attend. The commander was very anxious +to be permitted, with his company, to join the assemblage; Arthur had no +doubt of his father’s willingness. The question was, where they should +assemble, Dr. Sneyd’s house not being large enough for so many. One +proposed the verge of the forest; but Dr. Sneyd was not, at his age, +made to abide changes of weather like the hardy settlers about him. +Arthur’s barn was too far off for the convenience of all parties. Nobody +was disposed to ask from Mr. Temple any favour which, being graciously +granted for one Sunday, might be withdrawn before the next. Could the +market-house be made fit for the purpose? It was a rude building, +without seats, and occupied with traffic till the Saturday evening; but +the neighbours promised to vacate it in time to have it +cleared,—prepared with log seats, and some sort of pulpit,—and made a +temple meet for the worship of the heart. + +Dr. Sneyd’s afternoon walk brought him to the spot in time to promise to +do his part. His blessing was ready for the work newly completed, and +for the parting cup with which the men of peace dismissed the men of +war, in a spirit of mutual good-will. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER III. + + SATURDAY MORNING. + + +The settlers at Briery Creek followed the old custom of the mother +country, of holding their market on a Saturday. Saturday was an anxious +day to some, a joyous day to others, and a busy day to all. Many a +mother bent her steps to the market-house, doubting whether she should +be able to meet with the delicate food she desired for her baby just +weaned, or for her invalid husband, getting up from the fever, and +following her cookery with eager eyes. Many a child held its mother’s +apron, and watched her bargaining, in the hope that some new and +tempting article of food would be carried home, after a long sameness; +or that the unexpected cheapness of her purchases would enable her to +present him with the long-promised straw hat, or, at least, a pocket- +full of candy from the Brawnees’ sugar pans. The whole village was early +astir; and Dr. Sneyd, when he preferred a stroll along the bank of the +creek to a turn in the market-house with his lady, could distinguish +from a distance the solitariness of the farm-yards and dwellings, and +the convergence of driver, drover, rider, and walking trader, towards +the point of attraction. + +Arthur was the centre of all observation. He offered more for sale than +anybody else: he bought more; and he had the largest division of the +market-house, excepting always the corner reserved for the passing +trader, who could spread out riches far transcending what even Arthur +could boast. To such, the young farmer left it to exhibit bear and +beaver skins, leather, and store of salted venison, if he came from the +North or West; and hardware, cotton, cloth and silk goods, books and +stationery, if he was on his way from the East. Any of these, or all in +their turn, Arthur bought; but his sales, various as they were +considered, were confined to a few articles of food. He traded, not for +wealth of money, but of comfort. His purchases were of two kinds, +neither of which were destined for sale, as were those of the trader to +whom he yielded precedence in the market-house. He bought implements to +replace those which were worn out; and this kind of purchase was a +similar sort of expenditure to that of the seed-corn which was put into +the ground, and the repairs bestowed upon his fences and barn;—it was an +expenditure of capital—capital consumed for purposes of reproduction +with increase. With the surplus left after thus replacing his former +capital, and perpetually adding to it, Arthur purchased articles of +unproductive consumption; some for his house, which was becoming so much +prettier than a bachelor could want, that the gossips of Briery Creek +began to speculate on whom he had chosen to share the occupancy; some +for his table, as the sugar of the Brawnees; some for his person, as the +stout leggings which Dods occupied himself in making in rainy weather; +and some for his friends, as when he could lay hold of a political +journal for his father, or of a fur tippet for his mother, or of a set +of pencils for Temmy to sketch with when he came to the farm. (Arthur +seldom went to Mr. Temple’s; but he found time to give Temmy many a +drawing-lesson at the farm.) Now that Arthur had not only a growing +capital, but a surplus after replacing it—a revenue, which furnished him +with more comforts perpetually, he was unwilling that his sister should +feel so hurt as he knew she did at her husband not having assisted him +with capital, from the time that he took his farm in the shape of a +patch of prairie. In the early days of his enterprise, he would have +been truly thankful for such an addition to his small stock of dollars +as would have enabled him to cultivate a larger extent of ground, and +live less hardly while his little property was growing faster; but now +that he had surmounted his first difficulties, and was actually +justified in enlarging his unproductive expenditure, he wished Mrs. +Temple to forget that her husband had declined assisting her brother, +and be satisfied that the rich man had not been able to hinder the +prosperity he would not promote. + +The prosperity of the whole village would have increased more rapidly +than it did, if all the inhabitants had been as careful in their +consumption as Arthur. Not only did Temple expend lavishly in caprices +as well as luxuries, and the surgeon-tavern-keeper tempt many a labourer +and small proprietor to spend that in whisky which ought to have been +laid out (if not productively) in enjoyments that were innocent,—but +there was a prevalence of wasteful habits, against which Arthur and his +establishment might have served as a sufficient example. The merit of +the order which was observable on his farm was partly due to himself, +partly to Mrs. Sneyd, (who kept a maternal eye on all his interests,) +and partly to Isaac’s wife, who superintended his dairy and dwelling- +house. + +On this market morning,—after a day of extraordinary fatigue,—the slate +of the place at six o’clock might have shamed many a farm-house in a +region where there is a superabundance instead of a dearth of female +service. Isaac’s wife had no maid to help her but her own little maidens +of four and three years old; yet, by six o’clock, when her employer was +driving his market-cart to the place of traffic, the milk was duly set +by in the pans, the poultry were fed, the tallow with which she was +about to make candles was preparing while she made the beds, and the +little girls were washing up the breakfast things in the kitchen—the +elder tenderly wiping the cups and basins which the younger had washed +in the wooden bowl which her mother had placed and filled for her in the +middle of the floor, as the place whence it was most certain that it +could fall no lower. The pigs were in their proper place, within a +fence, which had a roof in one corner for their shelter in bad weather. +The horses and cattle were all properly marked, and duly made musical +with bells, when turned out into the woods. There was a well of pure +water, so guarded, that the children and other young animals could not +run into it unawares; and all the wild beasts of the forest had tried +the strength of the fences in vain. Arthur had not, therefore, had to +pay for the luxurious feasts of his enemies of the earth or air, or for +any of that consumption which may, in a special sense, be called +unproductive, since it yields neither profit to the substance nor +pleasure to the mind. If a similar economy had pervaded the settlement, +its gross annual produce would have more rapidly increased, and a larger +revenue would have been set at liberty to promote the civilization of +the society in improving the comfort of individuals. + +Brawn and his daughters could never be made to attend to this. The +resources which they wasted would have tilled many an acre of good land, +or have built a school-house, or have turned their habitation of logs +into a respectable brick tenement, with grassy field and fruitful +garden. They preferred what they called ease and liberty; and the waste +they caused might be considered as revenue spent on a pleasure,—a very +unintelligible pleasure,—of their own choice. As long as they supported +themselves without defrauding their neighbours, (and fraud was the last +thing they could have been made to understand,) no one had a right to +interfere with their methods of enjoyment any more than with Temple’s +conservatory, or Dr. Sneyd’s library, or Mrs. Dods’s passion for mirrors +and old china; but it was allowable to be sorry for so depraved a taste, +and to have a very decided opinion of its injuriousness to society, and +consequent immorality. This very morning there was dire confusion in +their corner of the settlement. For some days the girls had been bee- +hunting, being anxious to bring the first honey of the season into the +market. In order to make up for the time spent on the new bridge, they +were abroad at sunrise this day to track the wild bees in their earliest +flight; but after such a fashion, that it would have answered better to +them to be at home and asleep. Yet they succeeded in their object. The +morning was just such as to tempt all things that fly from the hollow +tree, from which the mists had drawn off, leaving a diamond token on +every leaf. The sun began to shine warm through the summer haze, and the +wild flowers of the prairie to look up and brighten at his presence. As +the brown sisters threaded the narrow ways of the woods, bursting +through the wild vines, and bringing a shower of dew on their heads from +sycamore and beech, many a winged creature hummed, or buzzed, or flitted +by,—the languid drone, or the fierce hornet, or white butterflies in +pairs, chasing one another into the loftiest and greenest recess of the +leafy canopy. Presently came the honey-bee, winging its way to the sunny +space—the natural herb-garden, to which the girls were hastening; and +when there, what a hovering, and buzzing, and sipping, and flitting was +going on! The bee-women laughed in anticipation of their sport as they +drew on their leathern mittens, and applied themselves to catch a loaded +bee in each hand. They agreed on their respective stations of +experiment, and separating, let fly their prisoners, one by one, +tracking the homeward course of each, with a practised eye, through a +maze of boughs, and flickering lights and shadows, and clustered stems, +which would have perplexed the vision of a novice. The four bees being +let fly from different stations, the point at which their lines of +flight must intersect each other was that at which the honeycomb might +be surely found; and a rich store it was,—liquid, clear, and +fragrant,—such as would assuredly make the mouth water of every little +person in the village who had advanced beyond a milk diet. Another and +another hollow tree was found thus to give forth sweetness from its +decay, till the bee-women shook back the lank hair from before their +eyes, gathered up such tatters of their woollen garments as they had not +left on the bushes by the way, and addressed themselves to return. On +their walk it was that they discovered that they had lost more this +morning than many such a ramble as theirs could repay. + +A vast cluttering and screaming of fowls was the first thing that drew +off their attention from their fragrant load. Some of the poor poultry +that their father had been plucking alive (as he was wont to do six +times a year) had evidently made their escape from his hands half +plucked, and were now making short flights, higher and farther from +home, so that it was more probable that they would join their wild +acquaintance, the turkeys or the prairie fowl, than return to roost +among the logs. Next appeared,—now entangling its hind legs among the +vines, now poking its snout into a ground-squirrel’s nest, and now +scuttling away from pursuit,—a fine young porker, which had been shut up +from its rambles for some time past. The sisters gave chase to their own +property; but all in vain: their pursuit only drove the animal farther +into the wood, and they hastened home to give notice of the disaster. +They could see nothing of Brawn about the house, but could not look +farther for him till they had discovered the meaning of the light smoke +which issued from the door and the crevices of the log-wall. Black +Brawnee’s best gown was burning before the fire,—the splendid cotton +gown, with a scarlet ground and a pattern of golden flowers, which, to +the astonishment of every body, she had taken a fancy to buy of a +passing trader, and which she had washed and hung up to dry in +preparation for the market: it was smouldering away, leaving only a +fragment to tell the tale. Next came a moan from an enclosure behind the +cottage, and there lay a favourite young colt with two legs so broken +that it was plain the poor animal would never more stand. How it +happened could not be learned from the dumb beast, nor from the two or +three other beasts that were huddled together in this place, where they +had no business to be. It seemed as if, in some grand panic, the animals +had tumbled over one another, leaving the colt to be the chief sufferer. +But where was Brawn himself? He was moaning, too, in a hollow place in +the wood, where he had made a false leap, and fallen so as to sprain his +ankle, while in pursuit of the runaway porker. + +“What brought ye here?” asked the brown damsel, as she raised her father +with one application of strength. + +“What carried the porker into the forest?” he asked, in reply. + +“Ask him. We did not give him room,” said one. + +“No need,” retorted the other. “Who left the gate open?” + +“That did we both, this morning, for the cause that there is no +fastening.” + +“No latch; but a fastening there is. I knotted the rope last night, and +so might you this morning. The loss of the porker comes of losing the +lamb.” + +“My lamb!” was repeated, with every variety of lamentation, by both the +damsels. It was too true. For want of a latch, the gate of the enclosure +was tied with a rope. The damsels found the tying too troublesome, and +merely pulled it after them. Little by little it had swung open. A +sharp-set wild cat had stolen in to make choice of a meal, and run out +again with the pet lamb. The master had followed the lamb, and the +porker made the best of his opportunity, and followed the master. Then +ensued the hue and cry which drove the beasts over the poor colt; and, +meantime, the scarlet gown, one sleeve of which had been puffed into the +fire by Brawn’s hasty exit, was accelerating the smoking of the dried +beef which hung from the rafters. A vast unproductive consumption for +one morning! + +The damsels made nothing of carrying their father home, and, after +bathing his ankle, laying him down on his back to study the rafters till +they should return from the market. It was a much harder task to go to +market; the one without her scarlet and yellow gown, and the other with +grief for her lamb lying heavy at her heart. + +They found their pigs very trying to their tempers this morning. Instead +of killing them, and carrying them to market in that quiet state, as +usual, the damsels had resolved to make the attempt to drive them; as, +from the abundance of pork in all its forms in the market just now, a +sale was very uncertain. To drive pigs along a high road is not a very +easy task; what then must it be in a wild country, where it is difficult +even to follow their vagaries, and nearly impossible to reclaim them? +The Brawnees agreed that to prevent such vagaries offered the only hope +of getting to market in time; and one therefore belled the old hog which +was to be her special charge, while the other was to promote to the +utmost the effect of the bell-music on the younger members of the drove. +The task was not made easier by the poor beasts having been very ill- +fed. There was little in the coarse, sour prairie grass to tempt them; +but patches of juicy green were but too visible here and there where +travellers had encamped, feeding their beasts with hay, and leaving the +seeds of the perennial verdure which was to spring up after the next +rains. Nothing could keep the old hog and the headlong train from these +patches, whether they lay far or near; insomuch that the sisters were +twenty times tempted to leave their swine to their own devices, and sell +no pork that day. But the not selling involved the not buying; and this +thought generated new efforts of patience and of skill. When they +arrived at the scene of exchange, and cast a glance on Mrs. Dods’s +display of cotton garments set off with here and there a muslin cap, and +paraphernalia of pink and green; or on a pile of butter which they were +not neat-handed enough to rival; or into wicker baskets of crockery, or +upon the trader’s ample store of blankets, knives, horn spoons, and +plumes of red and blue feathers, they felt that it would indeed have +been cruel to be compelled to quit the market without any of the +articles that were offered to their choice. Nobody, however, inquired +for their pigs. One neighbour was even saucy enough to laugh at their +appearance. + +“You had better buy a load of my pumpkins,” said Kendall, the surgeon +and tavern-keeper. “Your swine will be more fit for market next week, if +you feed them on my fine pumpkins in the meanwhile.” + +“When we want pumpkins,” said one of them, “we will go to those that +have ground to grow them on. You have not bought a field, and grown +pumpkins since yesterday, I suppose?” + +“By no means. I have a slip of a garden, let me tell you; and, though it +is but a slip, it is of rare mellow mould, where the vines strike at +every joint as they run. My wife has kept enough for pies for all the +travellers that may pass before next spring. One load is bespoken at +four dollars; and you will take the other, if you are wise. There are a +few gourds with them, too.” + +“Gourds! Who cares for gourds?” + +“Who can do without gourds, say I? I am sure we, at the tavern, could +not, so dear as crockery is at this place. Cut off the top, and you have +a bottle; cut off top and tail, and you have a funnel; cut it in two, +and you have cups; slice off one side, and you have a ladle. Take my +gourds, I advise you, and set yonder crockery-man at defiance, with his +monstrous prices and brittle ware.” + +“We have no drunken guests to break our cups and bottles; and as for +prices, how do you know that they are a matter of concern to us? If we +take your load, it shall be the pumpkins without the gourds.” + +“You will take the pumpkins, then?” + +“If you take the sum out in pork or honey. We want our dollars for the +crockery-man.” + +“Pork, no! I think we shall all grunt soon. We are pretty sure to have +no Jews come our way. We all have bacon for the morning meal; and a pig +for dinner, and salt pork for supper. When one whistles to the birds, +there comes a squeal instead of a chirp; and as sure as one walks in the +dark, one stumbles over a pig. Our children learn to grunt before they +set about speaking. No pork for me! We have a glut of pigs.” + +“Honey, then. Your wife wants honey for her pumpkin-pies; and I have +heard that you set out mead sometimes at your tavern.” + +“And till you cheapen your sugar, we want honey to sweeten our +travellers’ coffee, and treat the children with. How much honey will you +give me for my load?” + +The damsel was checked in her answer by her sister, who perceived that +many eyes were turned towards their fragrant store, and that no other +bee-hunters seemed to be in the market. A dollar a gallon was the price +announced by the sisters, after a consultation. Mr. Kendall shook his +head, and stood aside for awhile. The truth was, he was full as much in +want of honey for his purposes as an apothecary, as his wife for her +coffee and pies. He was resolved to get some, at whatever price, and +waited to put in his word at the first favourable opportunity. + +Arthur was no less determined upon a purchase of sweets. His mother +began to be in distress about her preserves. Her fruit was all ripe, and +craving to be preserved; but the destined sugar had gone to sweeten the +waters in the Creek. She entreated her son to bring her some honey. None +could be found in the woods near the farm. Every body was hay-making, or +about to make hay, and could not go out bee-hunting. The Brawnees were +the only resource. + +“I want some of your honey,” said he, catching the eye of the damsel of +the burned gown, over the group which intervened. + +“You shall have it, and no one else,” was her reply. + +She was again checked by her sister, who knew her disposition to serve +Arthur, at the expense of her own interests, and those of every body +else. + +“What will you give?” asked the more prudent one. + +“Pigs; we can agree on the price.” + +The one sister shook her head; the other suddenly discovered that it +would be a good plan to improve and enlarge their wealth of swine while +swine were cheap. She offered her five gallons of honey for one fat pig; +which offer caused her sister much consternation, and made Kendall hope +that the honey would be his, after all. + +“No, no,” said Arthur. "Your terms are not fair——" + +"Then I will get another gallon or two before the sun goes down, to make +up——" + +“I mean altogether the other way,” replied Arthur. “I do not want to +force my pigs upon you; but if you take them, you shall have them cheap, +since there is but a poor demand for them to-day. You shall have two of +those pigs for your five gallons; and if your sister thinks that not +enough, the difference shall be made up in fresh butter.” + +While the bargain was being discussed, one sister controlling the +generosity of the other, and her admiration of Arthur’s generosity, +while Arthur was thinking of nothing but fair play, Kendall wandered +away discontented, seeing that his chance was over. + +“You do not happen to have any honey to sell, Mrs. Dods?” said he, as he +passed the stall of cottons and muslins. + +“O, dear, no, Mr. Kendall. It is what I want above every thing. Really, +it is impossible to persuade an eye to look at my caps to-day, though +the pattern has never been introduced here before. There is no use in my +attempting to deal with ladies who dress in such a strange style as +Brawn’s daughters. Nothing would look becoming on them; or I am sure I +would make a sacrifice even on this tasty new thing, to get something to +sweeten my husband’s toddy with. Indeed I expect to be obliged to make a +sacrifice, at all events, to-day; as I beg you will tell Mrs. Kendall. +There being such a profusion of pigs, and so little honey to-day, seems +to have put us all out as to our prices.” + +“How happens it, Mrs. Dods?” + +"In the first place, they say, there was never such a season known for +young pigs. The price has fallen so that the plenty does more harm than +good to the owners; as is the complaint of farmers, you know, when the +crops are better than ordinary, and they cannot enlarge their market at +will. Then, again, there seems to have been miscalculation;—no one +appears to have been aware that every body would bring pigs, and nobody +any honey, except those slovenly young women." + +“Ah! both causes of glut in full operation!” exclaimed Kendall. “The +caprice of seasons, and the miscalculation of man!” + +“And of woman too, Mr. Kendall. If you will believe me, I have been at +work early and late, after my fashions, this week; ay, I declined going +to see the bridge finished, and put off our wedding-day treat, for the +sake of getting my stock into pretty order by to-day; and I have +scarcely had a bid yet, or even a word from a neighbour, till you came. +I did not calculate on the demand for honey, and the neglect of every +thing else. Every body is complaining of the same thing.” + +"It seems strange, Mrs. Dods, that while we all want to sell, and all to +buy, we cannot make our wants agree. I bring my demand to Mr. Arthur,—my +load of pumpkins and request of honey or sugar. He wants no pumpkins, +and has no honey. I bring the same to you. You want no pumpkins, and +offer me caps. Now I might perhaps get dollars for my pumpkins; but I +want only one cap——" + +"You do want one, then! Here is a pretty thing, that would just suit +your wife——" + +“Let me go on. I bring my demand to those dark girls: and the best of it +is, they do want pumpkins, and could let me have honey; but the young +farmer comes between, with his superfluity of pigs, to offer a better +bargain; so that I suffer equally from the glut of pork and the dearth +of honey.” + +“We are all suffering, so that any stranger would say that there is a +glut of every thing but honey. Neither millinery, nor blankets, nor +knives, nor flower-seeds are selling yet. But I believe there is no glut +of any thing but pigs. If we could put them out of the market, and put +honey out of people’s heads, I have little doubt we should exchange, to +our mutual satisfaction, as many articles as would set against each +other, till few would be left.” + +“I hope to see this happen before night, and then I may be rid of my +pumpkins, and carry home a cap at a price we should neither of us +grumble at, and keep the rest of my dollars for honey hereafter.” + +“Next week. No doubt, there will be a fine supply of it next week. +Perhaps a glut: for a glut often follows close upon a scarcity.” + +"Which should make us careful to husband our stocks till we are sure we +can renew them; like the wise Joseph in Egypt.—That puts a thing into my +head. I have a good mind to take the girls’ offer of pigs for my +pumpkins. Who knows but there may be a scarcity of pork after all this +plenty—which is apt to make people wasteful? If they will, they shall +have half a load for two of their lean animals; and I will keep the +other half load to feed them upon." + +“Ah! that is always the way people’s wishes grow with opportunity. This +morning, you thought of no such thing as keeping pigs; and now, before +night, you will have two.” + +“To be sure, Mrs. Dods. Very natural! The demand always grows as wealth +grows, you know. When the farmer makes his land yield double by good +tillage, he demands double the commodities he demanded before; and if +nature gives us a multitude of pigs, a new demand will open in the same +way.” + +"And there is a double supply at the same time,—of corn by the farmer, +and of pigs by the porkseller. Well! in either case, there is a better +chance opened for my caps. The more wealth there is, the better hope of +a sale of millinery. You must not forget that, Mr. Kendall. You promised +to take one of my caps, you know." + +“Why, so I did; but how to pay for it, I am sure I don’t know. I am not +going to sell my load for money, you see.” + +“Well, I will tell you how. Get three lean pigs, and part with a few +more pumpkins. I will take a pig for this pretty cap. I am somewhat of +your opinion that pigs will soon be worth more than they are now.” + +“And so you help to quicken the demand.” + +"Yes. My boys will manage to keep the animal,—behind the house, or in +the brickfield. And it would be a thousand pities your wife should not +have this cap. I had her before my mind’s eye while making it, I do +assure you;—and it will soon lose its bloom if it goes into my window, +or upon my shelves again." + +The negotiation was happily concluded; and, by the end of the day, when +pigs and honey were put out of the question, a brisk traffic took place +in the remaining articles, respecting which the wishes of the buyers and +sellers agreed better than they had done about the disproportioned +commodities. All had come with a demand; and each one’s instrument of +demand was his neighbour’s means of supply: so that the market would +have been entirely cleared, if they had but known one another’s wishes +well enough to calculate what kinds of produce they should bring. If +this had been done, there would have been more honey; and if, from a +caprice of nature, there had been still more pigs than usual, the only +consequence would have been that the demander of pork would have +received more of it to his bargain, or that the supplier of pigs would +have kept back some of his pork, to be an additional future instrument +of demand. In this case, no one would have lost, and some one would have +gained. + +As it was, Arthur was a loser. He paid much more for honey than would +probably be necessary the next week. But he thought himself in another +sense a gainer,—in proportion to the pleasure of obliging his mother. +The Brawnees carried home two thirds of a load of pumpkins, two fat +pigs, and a cherished store of fresh butter, in the place of their five +gallons of honey and three lean swine. They were decidedly gainers; +though not, perhaps, to the extent they might have been if they had been +unscrupulous about pressing their customer hard. Any one but Arthur +would have been made to yield more wealth than this; but they were well +content with having pleased him, and repaired in part the losses of the +morning. + +Other parties left little to be removed in preparation for the Sunday. +Having carried home their purchases first, they returned for the small +remainder of their stock; and the evening closed with a sort of minor +frolic, the children running after the stray feathers their mothers were +sweeping away, and the men ranging logs for seats, and providing a +platform and desk for the use of Dr. Sneyd. One or two serious people +were alarmed at the act of thus turning a house of merchandise into a +temple of worship; but the greater number thought that the main +consideration was to gather together as many worshippers as could be +collected in the heart of their wilderness. Such an accession as was now +promised to their congregation seemed to mark an era in the history of +their community. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER IV. + + SUNDAY EVENING. + + +Temmy was fond of feeling his grandfather’s hand upon his shoulder any +day of the week; but on the Sunday evening, in particular, it was +delightful to the boy to share the leisure of the family. Many a tale of +old times had Mrs. Sneyd then to tell; many a curious secret of things +in earth, air, and heaven, had the doctor to disclose; and uncle Arthur +was always ready to hear of the doings of the last week, and to promise +favours for the time to come. It was seldom that Temmy could enjoy a +whole evening of such pleasures;—only when Mr. Temple chose to make an +excursion, and carry his lady with him, or to go to bed at eight o’clock +because his ennui had by that time become intolerable. Usually, Temmy +could be spared only for an hour or two, and was sure to be fetched away +in the midst of the most interesting of all his grandmamma’s stories, or +the most anxious of the doctor’s experiments. + +This evening,—the evening of the day of opening the market-house for +worship,—the poor boy had given up all hope of getting beyond the +boundaries of the Lodge. Mr. Temple was, as he said, very ill; as every +body else would have said,—in a very intolerable humour. He could not +bear sunshine or sound. His wife must sit behind closed shutters, and +was grievously punished for her inability to keep the birds from +singing. Temmy must not move from the foot of the sofa, except to ring +the bell every two minutes, and carry scolding messages every quarter of +an hour; in return for which he was reproved till he cried for moving +about, and opening and shutting the door. At length, to the great joy of +every body, the gentleman went to bed, having drunk as much wine as his +head would bear, and finding no relief to his many ailments from that +sort of medicine. This final measure was accomplished just in time for +the drawing-room windows to be thrown open to the level rays of the sun, +and the last breath of the closing flowers. The wine was carried away, +and Ephraim called for to attend his young master to Dr. Sneyd’s. Temmy +was to explain why Mrs. Temple could not leave home this evening, and he +might stay till Dr. Sneyd himself should think it time for him to +return. Without the usual formalities of pony, groom, and what not, +Temmy was soon on the way, and in another half-hour had nearly forgotten +papa’s terrible headache under the blessed influence of grandpapa’s ease +of heart. + +Uncle Arthur was sitting astride on the low window-sill of the study, +with Temmy hanging on his shoulder, when a golden planet showed itself +above the black line of the forest. The moon had not risen, so that +there was no rival in the heaven; and when the evening had darkened a +little more, Temmy fancied that this bright orb cast a faint light upon +his grandfather’s silver hairs, and over uncle Arthur’s handsome, +weather-browned face. Temmy had often heard that his father had much +beauty; and certainly his picture seemed to have been taken a great many +times; yet the boy always forgot to look for this beauty except when +some of these pictures were brought out, while he admired uncle Arthur’s +dark eyes, and beautiful smile and high forehead, more and more every +time he saw him. It was very lucky that uncle Arthur looked so well +without combing his eye-brows, and oiling his hair, and using three +sorts of soap for his hands, and three different steel instruments, of +mysterious construction, for his nails; for the young farmer had no time +for such amusements. It was also well that he was not troubled with +fears for his complexion from the summer’s sun, or from the evening air +in the keenest night of winter. This was lucky, even as far as his good +looks were concerned, for, if he looked well by candle-light, he looked +better in the joyous, busy noon; and more dignified still when taking +his rest in the moonlight; and, as Temmy now thought, noblest of all +while under the stars. If papa could see him now, perhaps he would not +laugh so very much as usual about uncle Arthur’s being tanned, and +letting his hair go as it would. + +“Shall we mount to the telescopes, father?” asked Arthur. “The boy will +have time to enjoy them to-night. I will take care of him home, if +Ephraim dares not stay.” + +Dr. Sneyd rose briskly, observing that it would indeed be a pity to lose +such an evening. Temmy grasped his grandmamma’s hand, hoping that she +was going too. He scarcely knew why, but he felt the observatory to be a +very awful place, particularly at night, when only a faint bluish light +came in through the crevices of the shifting boards; or a stray beam, +mysteriously bright, fell from the end of the slanting telescope, and +visibly moved on the floor. Grandpapa was rather apt to forget Temmy +when he once got into the observatory, and to leave him shivering in a +dark corner, wondering why every body spoke low in this place, and +afraid to ask whether the stars really made any music which mortal ears +might listen for. When grandpapa did remember the boy, he was not aware +that he was uneasy and out of breath, but would call him here and send +him there, just as he did in the study in broad daylight. It had been +very different with grandmamma, the only time she had mounted hither +with him. She had held his hand all the while, and found out that, tall +as he was grown, he could see better by sitting on her knee; and she had +clasped him round the waist, as if she had found out that he trembled. +Perhaps she had heard his teeth chatter, though grandpapa did not. Temmy +hoped they would not chatter to-night, as he did not wish that uncle +Arthur should hear them; but Mrs. Sneyd was not to be at hand. She +declared that she should be less tired with walking to the lodge than +with mounting to the observatory. She would go and spend an hour with +her daughter, and have some talk with Ephraim by the way. + +There needed no excuse for Temmy’s being out of breath, after mounting +all the stairs in the house, and the ladder of the observatory to boot; +and the planet which he was to see being still low in the sky was reason +enough for uncle Arthur to hold him up to the end of the telescope. He +did not recover his breath, however, as the moments passed on. This was +a larger instrument than he had ever looked through before, and his +present impressions were quite different from any former experience. The +palpable roundness of the orb, the unfathomable black depth in which it +moved solitary, the silence,—all were as if new to him. + +“You see it?” asked Arthur. + +“O, yes.” + +Another long silence, during which the boy breathed yet more heavily. + +“You see it still?” + +“No, uncle Arthur.” + +“My dear boy, why did you not tell me? We must overtake it. There! there +it is once more! You must not let it travel out of sight again.” + +“How can I stop it?” thought Temmy, and he would fain have pressed his +hands before his eyes, as the silent vision traversed the space more +brightly and more rapidly, it seemed to him, every moment. Arthur showed +him, however,—not how to stop the planet, but how to move the instrument +so as not to lose sight of it: he then put a stool under him, and told +him he could now manage for himself. Dr. Sneyd had something to show his +son on the other side of the heavens. + +If Temmy had had the spheres themselves to manage, he could scarcely +have been in a greater trepidation. He assured himself repeatedly that +friends were at hand, but his head throbbed so that he could scarcely +hear their whispers, and the orb now seemed to be dancing as he had seen +the reflection of the sun dance in a shaken basin of water. He would +look at something else. He jerked the telescope, and flash went one +light after another before his eyes, as if the stars themselves were +going out with a blaze. This would never do. He must look at something +earthly. After another jerk to each side, which did not serve his +purpose, he pushed it up, and saw—something which might belong to any of +the worlds in being,—for Temmy knew no more about it than that it was +most horrible. An enormous black object swept across the area of vision, +again and again, as quick as lightning. It would not leave off. Temmy +uttered a shriek of terror, and half slipped, half tumbled from his +stool. + +“What has the boy found? What can be the matter?” asked grandpapa. +Arthur presently laughed, and told Temmy he was very clever to have +found what he should have thought it very difficult to discover from +this place—Arthur’s own mill;—the new windmill on the mound, whose sails +were now turning rapidly in the evening breeze. It was some comfort to +learn that his panic was not much to be wondered at. Uncle Arthur knew +what it was to take in too near a range with a large telescope. He had +done so once, and had been startled with an apparition of two red cheeks +and two staring blue eyes, apparently within half an inch of the end of +his own nose. + +“Here, Temmy,” said Dr. Sneyd, “try whether you can read in this book.” + +“Shall I go and get a candle, grandpapa?” + +“No, no. I want to see whether a little star yonder will be our candle. +Lay the book in this gleam of light, and try whether you can read.” + +Many strange things were still whisking before Temmy’s eyes, but he +could make out the small print of the book. He was then shown the star +that gave the light,—one of the smallest in a bright constellation. He +heartily wished that nobody would ask him to look at any more stars to- +night, and soon managed to slip away to the little table, and show that +he was amused with turning a greater and a lesser light upon the book, +and showing with how little he could read the title-page, and with how +much the small type of the notes. The next pleasant thing that happened +was the lamp being lighted. + +“Father,” said Arthur, “you seldom have me for an assistant now. I am +neither tired nor busy to-night, and the sky is clear. Suppose we make a +long watch.” + +Dr. Sneyd was only too happy. He produced a light in one of his magical +ways, and hung the shade on the lamp, while Arthur arranged his pens and +paper, and laid his watch on the table. Dr. Sneyd took his place at the +best telescope now in readiness, after various screwings and +unscrewings, and shiftings of the moveable boards. Arthur meanwhile was +cutting a pencil, with which he invited Temmy to draw beside him. Uncle +Arthur thought Temmy would draw very well if he chose. In a little while +nothing was to be heard but the brief directions of Dr. Sneyd to his +secretary, and the ticking of the watch on the table. + +Temmy was fast asleep, with his head resting on his drawing, when he was +called from below, to go home. + +“Just see him down the ladder,” said Dr. Sneyd. + +“No, thank you, grandpapa; I can always get down.” In truth, Temmy +always went down much more quickly than he came up. + +The next time a cloud came in the way, Dr. Sneyd observed, + +"Temple is ruining that boy. He will leave him no nerve,—no sense. What +will his many thousand acres be worth to him without?" + +“Do you think he will ever have those many thousand acres, sir?” + +“I almost wish he may not. Perhaps his best chance would be in his being +left to manage for himself in some such way as you have done, Arthur. +Such a call on his energies would be the best thing for him, if it did +not come too late.” + +Arthur had a strong persuasion that it might come at any time. He was by +no means satisfied that the many thousand acres were still Temple’s. He +was very sure that much of the gentleman’s wealth must have evaporated +during his incessant transmutations of meadows into pleasure-grounds, +and flower-gardens into shrubberies, and hot-houses into baths, and +stables into picturesque cottages, and cottages into stables again. He +was seldom seen three times on the same horse; and it was certain that +the money he had locked up in land would never be productive while he +remained its owner. Who would come and settle under such a proprietor, +when land as good, and liberty to boot, was to be had elsewhere? Temple +himself was contracting his cultivation every year. The more he laid out +unproductively, the less remained to be employed productively. If Arthur +had had one-tenth part of what Temple had wasted since he settled at +Briery Creek, his days of anxiety and excessive toil might have been +over long ago. + +“It is all for the best, Arthur. You would not have been happy in the +possession of Temple’s money, subject to his caprices, poor man! Nobody +is more easy than I am under pecuniary obligation; but all depends on +the quarter whence it comes, and the purposes for which the assistance +is designed. I accepted this observatory from you, you remember, when I +knew that it cost you something to give up your time and labour to it; +and I dare say I should have accepted the same thing from Temple, if he +had happened to offer it, because, in such a case, the good of science +could be the only object. But, if I were you, I would rather work my own +way up in the world than connect myself with such a man as Temple. The +first time he wanted something to fidget himself about, he would be for +calling out of your hands all he had lent you.” + +“One would almost bear such a risk,” said Arthur, “for the sake of the +settlement. My poor sister makes the best of matters by talking +everywhere of the quantity of labour her husband employs. But I think +she must see that that employment must soon come to an end if no returns +issue from it. I am sure I should be glad to employ much more labour, +and in a way which would yield a maintenance for a still greater +quantity next year, if I had the laying out of the money Temple wastes +on his caprices. I am not complaining, father, on my own account. My +hardest time is over, and I shall soon be doing as well as I could wish. +I am now thinking of the interests of the place at large. It seems too +hard that the richest man among us should at the same time keep away new +settlers by holding more land than he can cultivate, waste his capital, +instead of putting it out to those who would employ it for his and the +common good, and praise himself mightily for his liberal expenditure, +holding the entire community obliged to him for it, every time he buys a +new luxury which will yield no good beyond his own selfish pleasure.” + +“I am afraid you think the community has little to thank me for, Arthur? +Perhaps, in our present state of affairs, the money I have ought to go +towards tilling the ground, instead of exploring the heavens.” + +"My dear sir, no. I differ from you entirely. You do not live beyond +your income, nor——" + +“Give your mother the credit of that, Arthur. But for her, my little +property would have flown up to the moon long ago.” + +“But, father, I was going to say that what I and others here produce is +but the means of living, after all. It would be deplorable to sacrifice +the end to them.” + +“What end? Do you mean the pleasure of star-gazing? I should be +delighted to hear that.” + +"Pleasure,—whether of star-gazing, or of any thing else that is innocent +and virtuous,—that is really happiness. If Temple is really happy over +his foreign wines, I am sure I have no more objection to his drinking +them than to my men enjoying their cider. Let it be his end, if he is +capable of no higher, as long as his pleasures do not consume more than +his income. Much more may I be willing that you should enjoy your star- +gazing, when out of the gratification to yourself arises the knowledge +which ennobles human life, and the truth for which, if we do not live +now, we shall assuredly live hereafter." + +“I have always trusted, Arthur, that the means which have been bestowed +upon me would not prove to be lost. Otherwise, I would have taken my axe +on my shoulder, and marched off to the forest with you.” + +"Father, it is for such as you that forests and prairies should be made +to yield double, if the skill of man could ensure such fruitfulness. It +is for such as you that the husbandman should lead forth his sons before +the dawn, and instruct them to be happy in toiling for him whose light +in yon high place is yet twinkling,—who has been working out God’s truth +for men’s use while they slept." + +“Our husbandmen are not of the kind you speak of, Arthur. I see them +look up as they pass, as if they thought this high chamber a folly of +the same sort as Temple’s Chinese alcove.” + +“I think you mistake them, sir. I can answer for those with whom I have +to do. They see all the difference between Temple’s restless discontent +and your cheerfulness. They see that he has no thought beyond himself, +while you have objects of high and serious interest ever before your +mind’s eye; objects which, not comprehending, they can respect, because +the issue is a manifestation of wisdom and benignity.” + +“Enough! enough!” cried the doctor. "I have no complaint to make of my +neighbours, I am sure. I should be a very ungrateful man, if I fancied I +had. I am fully aware of the general disposition of men to venerate +science, and to afford large aid to those who pursue it, on a principle +of faith in its results. My belief in this is not at all shaken by what +befel me in England; but, as I have appeared here accidentally,—a +philosopher suddenly lighting in an infant community instead of having +grown up out of it, it was fair to doubt the light in which I am +regarded. If the people hated me as a magician, or despised me as an +idle man, I think it would be no wonder." + +“I am glad you hold your faith, father, in the natural veneration of +society for the great ends of human life. I believe it must be a strong +influence, indeed, which can poison men’s minds against their +legislators, and philosophers, and other wise men who neither dig nor +manufacture. I believe it must be such a silver tongue as never yet +spoke that could persuade any nation that its philosophers are not its +best benefactors.” + +"True. It was not the English nation that drove me hither; and those who +did it never complained of my pursuits,—only of what they supposed my +principles. I wish I could bear all the sorrow of the mistake." + +“Be satisfied to let them bear some of it, father. It will help to guard +them against a repetition of it. I am sure your own share is enough.” + +"In one sense it is, Arthur. Do you know, I find myself somewhat +changed. I perceive it when I settle myself down to my pursuits; and to +a greater extent than I anticipated. It may be owing in part to the want +of the facilities I had enjoyed for so many years, and never thought to +part with more. I sometimes wonder whether I should be the same man +again at home, among——But let all that pass. What I was thinking of, and +what your mother and I oftenest think of, is the hardship of your having +to bear a part,—so large a part in our misfortune. I should wonder to +see you toiling as you do, from month to month,—(for I know that wealth +is no great object with you,)—if I did not suspect——But I beg your +pardon. I have no right to force your confidence." + +“Go on, father.” + +“Well, to say the truth, I suspect that you left something more behind +you than you gave us reason to suppose. If you had not come of your own +free choice, this idea would have made both your mother and me very +unhappy.” + +“I have hopes that she will come, father. I have been waiting to tell +you, only for a prospect of the time when I might go for her. Nothing is +settled, or I would have told you long ago; but I have hopes.” + +Dr. Sneyd was so long silent, thinking how easily the use of some of +Temple’s wasted money would have completed Arthur’s happiness ere +this,—benefiting Temple and the whole community at the same time,—that +his son feared he was disappointed. He had no apprehension of his being +displeased at any part of his conduct. + +“I hoped the prospect would have given you pleasure, father,” he said, +in a tone of deep mortification. + +"My dear son, so it does—the greatest satisfaction, I assure you; +though, indeed, I do not know how you were to become aware of it without +my telling you. I know my wife’s opinion of her to be the same as my +own. I only hope she will be to you all that may repay you for what you +have been to us: indeed, I have no doubt of it." + +Arthur was perfectly happy; happy enough to observe that the clouds were +parting, and that,—as science had been so lately pronounced the great +end for which his father was living,—it was a pity his observations +should not be renewed. + +“If science be the great object we think it,” observed the doctor the +next time he was obliged to suspend his labours, “it seems strange that +it should be pursued by so few. At present, for one who devotes himself +to the end, thousands look not beyond the mere means of living. I am not +afraid to call it the end to you, though I would not have done so in my +pulpit this morning without explanation. We understand one another.” + +"Perfectly; that since the full recognition of truth is virtue, science +is the true end. I hope, I believe, I discern the method by which more +and more labour will be withdrawn from the means to be transferred to +the end. For a long time past,—ever since I have been in the habit of +comparing you and your pursuits with the people about you and their +pursuits—ever since I came here,—I have been arriving at my present +conviction, that every circumstance of our social condition,—the most +trifling worldly interest of the meanest of us,—bears its relation to +this great issue, and aids the force of tendency towards it." + +“You have come hither for something worth gaining, then: it is worth +while to cross land and sea for such a conviction. Can I aid you with +confirmation from the stars?” + +"No doubt; for all knowledge, come whence it may,—from incalculable +heights or unfathomable depths,—all new knowledge of the forces of +nature affords the means of setting free a quantity of human labour to +be turned to new purposes. In the infancy of the race, the mind had no +instruments but the unassisted hands. By degrees, the aid of other +natural forces was called in; by degrees, those forces have been +overruled to more and more extended purposes, and further powers brought +into subjection, setting free, at every new stage of acquisition, an +immense proportion of human labour, and affording a glimpse,—almost too +bright to be met by our yet feeble vision,—of times when material +production—the means of living, shall be turned over to the machinery of +nature, only superintended by man, whose life may then be devoted to +science, ‘worthy of the name,’ which may, in its turn, have then become +the means to some yet higher end than is at present within our ken." + +“In those days, then, instead of half-a-dozen labourers being virtuously +employed in production for themselves and one unproductive philosopher, +the six labourers will themselves have become philosophers, supported +and cherished by the forces of nature, controlled by the intellect of +perhaps one productive labourer.” + +“Just so; the original philosopher being the cause of this easy +production by his ascertainment of the natural forces in question. This +result is merely the protraction of the process which has been going on +from the earliest infancy of the race. If Noah, in his first moonlight +walk upon Ararat, could have seen mirrored in the watery waste the long +procession of gigantic powers which time should lead forth to pass under +the yoke of man, would he not have decided (in his blindness to the new +future of man) that nothing would be left for man to do?” + +“Probably. And in order to exhibit to him the whole case, he must be +carried forward to man’s new point of view.” + +“And so it will be with some second Noah, whose happier lot it shall be +to see knowledge cover the earth, bearing on its bosom all that is +worthy of the new heavens and new earth; while all that is unworthy of +them is sunk and lost. By the agency of his gigantic servants he may be +raised to that pinnacle of the universe whence he may choose to look +forth again, and see what new services are appointed to man, and who are +the guides and guardians allotted to his higher state.” + +"And what will he behold?——But it is foolish to inquire. One must be +there to know." + +"To know fully. But though we can but barely speculate upon what he will +see, we may decidedly pronounce upon what he will not see. We cannot +tell how many galaxies will be perceived to complete the circle of +Nature’s crown, nor what echoes of her diapason shall be wafted to the +intent spirit. We cannot tell how near he may be permitted to approach +to behold the evolution of a truth from apparent nothingness, as we are +apt to fancy a seraph watches the creation of one of yonder worlds—first +distinguishing the dim apparition of an orb emerging from the vacuum, +then seeing it moulded into order, and animated with warmth, and +invested with light, till myriads of adorers are attracted to behold it +sent forth by the hand of silence on its everlasting way. We cannot tell +to what depth man may then safely plunge, to repose in the sea-caves, +and listen to the new tale that its thunders interpret, and collect +around him the tributaries of knowledge that come thronging down the +green vistas of ocean light. We cannot tell what way will be opened +before him to the dim chambers of the earth, where Patience presides, +while her slow and blind agents work in dumb concert from age to age, +till, the hour being come, the spirit of the volcano, or the angel of +the deluge, arrives to burst their prison-house. Of all these things we +can yet have but a faint conception; but of some things which will not +be we can speak with certainty." + +“That when these inanimate powers are found to be our best servants, the +immortal mind of man will be released from the drudgery which may be +better performed by them. Then, never more will the precious term of +human life be spent in a single manual operation; never more will the +elastic limbs of children grow rigid under one uniform and excessive +exercise; never more will the spirit sit, self-gnawing, in the fetters +to which it has been condemned by the tyranny of ignorance, which must +have its gratifications. Then bellows may breathe in the tainted streams +of our factories, and human lungs be spared, and men’s dwellings be +filled with luxuries, and no husbandman be reduced from his sovereignty +of reason to a similitude with the cattle of his pastures. But much +labour has already been set free by the employment of the agency of +nature; and how little has been given to science!” + +“It seems as if there must ever be an intermediate state between the +discovery of an instrument and its application to its final use. I am +far from complaining, as you know, of the nature of human demands being +what it has been, as, from time to time, liberated industry has afforded +a new supply. I am far from complaining that new graces have grown up +within the domains of the rich, and that new notions of convenience +require a larger satisfaction day by day. Even when I perceive that a +hundred heads and hands are necessary to the furnishing forth of a +gentleman’s equipage, and that the wardrobe of a lady must consist of, +at least, a hundred and sixty articles, I am far from wishing that the +world should be set back to a period when men produced nothing but what +was undeniably essential.” + +“You would rather lead it on to the time when consumption will not be +stimulated as it is at present?” + +"When it shall be of a somewhat different kind. A perpetual stimulus +seems to me to be provided for by labour being more and more set at +liberty, since all the fruits of labour constitute at once the demand +and the supply. But the desires and tastes which have grown up under a +superabundance of labour and a dearth of science are not those which may +be looked for when new science (which is as much the effect as the cause +of new methods of production) shall have opened fresh worlds to human +tastes. The spread of luxury, whether it be pronounced a good or an +evil, is, I conceive, of limited duration. It has served, and it still +serves, to employ a part of the race and amuse another part, while the +transition is being made from one kind of simplicity to another,—from +animal simplicity to intellectual simplicity." + +“The mechanism of society thus resembles the mechanism of man’s art. +What was done as a simple operation by the human arm, is effected as a +complicated operation by instruments of wood and steel. But the time +surely comes when this complexity is reduced, and the brute instrument +is brought into a closer and a still closer analogy with the original +human mechanism. The more advanced the art, the simpler the mechanism.” + +"Just so. If, in respect of our household furniture, equal purposes of +convenience are found to be answered by a smaller variety of articles, +the industry which is thus released will be free to turn to the fine +arts,—to the multiplication of objects which embody truth and set forth +beauty,—objects which cannot be too extensively multiplied. If our +ladies, at the same time, discover that equal grace and more convenience +are attained by a simpler costume, a more than classical simplicity will +prevail, and the toil of operatives will be transferred to some higher +species of production." + +“We should lose no time, then, in making a list of the present +essentials of a lady’s wardrobe, to be preserved among the records of +the race. Isaiah has presented one, which exhibits the maidens of Judea +in their days of wealth. But I believe they are transcended by the +damsels of Britain.” + +"I am sure the British ladies transcend the Jewish in their method of +justifying their luxury. The Jewesses were satisfied that they enjoyed +luxury, and looked no farther. The modern ladies extol it as a social +virtue,—except the few who denounce the very enjoyment of it as a crime. +How long will the two parties go on disputing whether luxury be a virtue +or a crime?" + +“Till they cease to float themselves on the surface of morals on the +support of old maxims of morality; till they look with their own eyes +into the evidence of circumstance, and learn to make an induction for +themselves. They will see that each side of the question has its right +and its wrong; that there is no harm, but much good in enjoyment, +regarded by itself; and that there is no good, but much harm in causing +toil which tends to the extinction of enjoyment.” + +“In other words, that Dr. B’s pleasure in his picture gallery is a +virtuous pleasure while he spends upon it only what he can well spare; +and that Temple’s hot-houses are a vicious luxury, if, as we suspect, he +is expending upon them the capital on which he has taught his labourers +to depend as a subsistence fund.” + +“Exactly; and that the milk-maid may virtuously be married in the silk +gown which her bridegroom thinks becoming, provided it is purchased with +her surplus earnings; while an empress has no business with a yard of +ribbon if she buys it after having parted with the last shilling of her +revenue at the gaming-table. Silk is beautiful. If this were all, let +every body wear silk; but if the consequence of procuring silk be more +pain to somebody than the wearing of silk gives pleasure, it becomes a +sin to wear silk. A thriving London tradesman may thus innocently dress +his wife and nine daughters in Genoa velvet, while the spendthrift +nobleman may do a guilty deed in arraying himself in a new fashion of +silk hose.” + +"Our countrywomen may be expected to defend all luxurious expenditure as +a virtue, while their countrymen,—the greyheaded as well as youths,—are +overheard extolling a war expenditure as a public good. Both proceed on +the notion that benefit resides in mere consumption, instead of in the +reproduction or in the enjoyment which results; that toil is the good +itself, instead of the condition of the good, without which toil is an +evil." + +“If war can be defended as a mode of expenditure by any but gunsmiths +and army clothiers, there is no saying what curse we may not next find +out to be a blessing. Of all kinds of unproductive consumption, that +occasioned by war is the very worst. Life, and the means of life, are +there extinguished together, and one might as well try to cause the +resurrection of a slain army on the field of battle, as hope for any +return to the toil of the labourers who equipped them for the strife. +The sweat of the artisan falls as fruitless as the tears of the widow +and orphan. For every man that dies of his wounds abroad, there is +another that pines in hunger at home. The hero of to-day may fancy his +laurels easily won; but he ought to know that his descendants of the +hundredth generation will not have been able to pay the last farthing of +their purchase-money.” + +"And this is paid, not so much out of the luxuries of the rich as the +necessaries of the poor. It is not so much one kind of unproductive +consumption being exchanged for another as a productive consumption +being stinted for the sake of an unproductive. The rich may contribute +some of their revenue to the support of a war, but the middling classes +give,—some a portion of their capital, and others the revenue of which +they would otherwise make capital,—so that even if the debts of a war +were not carried forward to a future age, the evil consequences of an +abstraction of capital are." + +"It appears, however, as if unproductive consumption was much lessened +at home during a war. One may see the difference in the very aspect of +the streets in London, and yet more in the columns of newspapers. +Puffing declines as soon as a war breaks out,—not that puffing is a sign +of any thing but a glut of the article puffed,—but this decline of +puffing signifies rather a cessation of the production of the community +than such a large demand as needs no stimulating." + +"Yes; one may now see in London fire-arms or scarlet cloth exhibited at +the windows of an establishment where, during the peace, might be found +‘the acmè of paper-hanging;’ and where might formerly be had floor-cloth +of a marvellous number of yards without seam, whose praises were +blazoned in large letters from the roof to the ground, ball cartridges +are piled, and gunpowder stands guarded, day and night. Since gluts work +their own cure, and puffing comes of gluts, puffing is only a temporary +absurdity. Long may it be before we are afflicted with it here!" + +"Afflicted?—Well! looked at by itself, perhaps it is an affliction, as +all violations of truth, all exhibitions of folly, are; but one may draw +pleasure too from every thing which is a sign of the times." + +“O, yes; there is not only the strong present pleasure of philosophising +on states of society, but every indication of what it serves to the +thinker, at the same time, as a prophecy of better things that shall be. +But, do you not find it pleasanter to go to worship, as we went this +morning, through green pastures and by still waters, where human +industry made its appeals to us in eloquent silence, and men’s dwellings +bore entire the aspect of sabbath repose, than to pass through paved +streets, with a horizon of brick-walls, and tokens on every side, not +only of week day labour, but of struggle for subsistence, and +subservience for bread? The London shopkeepers do not remove their signs +on a Sunday. If one catches a glimpse here and there of a spectacled old +gentleman reading his Bible in the first-floor parlour, or meets a train +of spruce children issuing from their father’s door at the sound of the +church-bell, one sees, at the same time, that their business is to push +the sale of floor-cloth without seam, and to boast of the acmè of paper- +hanging.” + +"There may be more immediate pleasure in the one Sabbath walk than in +the other, Arthur, but they yield, perhaps, equally the aliment of +piety. Whatever indicates the condition of man, points out, not only the +species of duty owing to man, but the species of homage due to God,—the +character of the petitions appropriate to the season. All the methods of +going to worship may serve the purpose of preparation for the sanctuary. +The nobleman may lean back in his carriage to meditate; the priest may +stalk along in reverie, unconscious of all around him; the citizen- +father may look with pride on the train of little ones with whom he may +spend the leisure of this day; and the observing philanthropist may go +forth early and see a thousand incidents by the way, and all may alike +enter the church-door with raised and softened hearts." + +“And all listen with equal faith to the promise of peace on earth and +good-will to men?” + +“Yes, and the observer not the least, if he observe for holy purposes.” + +"O, father, think of the gin-shop and the news-office that he must pass +by the way! They are infinitely worse than the visible puffery. Think of +the thronged green-grocer’s shop, where you may see a widow in her +soiled weeds, flushed with drink, careless of the little ones that cling +to her gown, hungering as they are for the few potatoes which are all +she can purchase after having had her morning dram!—Think of the father +cheapening the refuse of the Saturday’s market, and passing on, at last, +wondering when his pale family will again taste meat! Think of the +insolent footmen, impeding the way to the church-door, while they amuse +themselves with the latest record of licentiousness in the paper of the +day!" + +"I have often seen all this, Arthur, and have found in it——" + +"Nothing that necessarily hardens the heart, I know; on the contrary, +the compassion excited is so painful that devotion is at times the only +refuge. But as for the congeniality——" + +“What is the value of faith, if it cannot assimilate all things to +itself? And as for Christian faith, where and amidst what circumstances +did it arise? Was it necessary, in going up to the temple, to overlook +the blind beside the way, and to stop the ears when the contention of +brethren was heard, and to avoid the proud Pharisee and the degraded +publican? Was the repose of the spirit broken when an adultress entered +the sacred precincts? Were the avenues to the temple blocked up that the +holy might worship in peace? And when they issued forth, were they sent +home to their closets, forbidden to look to the right hand or to the +left for fear of defilement?” + +“If so, it was by order of the Pharisees. You are right, father. The +holiest did not even find it necessary to resort to mountain solitudes, +or to the abodes of those who were pure as themselves, for the support +of their faith or the repose of their devotion. Aliment for piety was +found at the table of the publican, and among the sufferers beside +Bethesda. To the pure every emotion became a refining process, and +whatever was not found congenial was made so. It may certainly be the +same with the wise and the benignant of every age.” + +“It is indeed a halting faith which dreads as common that which God has +cleansed and sanctified; and where is God’s own mark to be recognized +but in the presence of joy and sorrow, of which he is the sole +originator and distributor? Whatever bears a relation to joy and sorrow +is a call to devotion; and no path to the sanctuary is more sacred than +another, while there are traces of human beings by the way.” + +“You prefer then the pastures which tell of our prosperity to the wilds +of the prairie; and I observed that you dwelt upon the portraits of +familiar faces before you left your study this morning.” + +"I did; and many a time have I dwelt quite as earnestly on strange faces +in which shone no friendship for me, and no consciousness of the objects +of the day. I read in their human countenance,—human, whether it be vile +or noble,—the promise, that as all things are for some use, and as all +men contribute while all have need, the due distribution will in time be +made, causes of contention be done away, and the sources of social +misery be dried up, so that——" + +"So that we may, through all present dismay and vicissitude, look +forward to ultimate peace on earth and good-will towards men. Yes, all +things are of use to some, from the stalk of flax that waves in my field +below, to Orion now showing himself as the black cloud draws off,—all +for purposes of support to body or mind,—all, whether appropriated, or +left at large because they cannot be appropriated. Let us hope that each +will, at length, have his share; and as Providence has placed no limit +to the enjoyment of his gifts but that of food, we may learn so to +understand one another’s desires as mutually to satisfy them; so that +there may not be too much of one thing to the injury of some, and too +little of another thing, to the deprivation of more." + +“If we could but calculate the present uses of any one gift!” said Dr. +Sneyd, smiling; “but this is a task for the philosophers of another age, +or another state. I would fain know how many living beings are reposing +or pasturing on your flax-stalk, and how much service will be rendered +in the course of the processes it has to go through. I would fain know +how many besides ourselves are drawing from yonder constellation +knowledge and pleasure.” + +“More than there are stars in the heaven, besides the myriads that have +their home in one or other of its worlds. What more knowledge are we to +derive to-night?” + +And Arthur returned to his seat and his task, which he had quitted while +the sky was clouded. His father observed, with surprise, how far the +twinkling lights had travelled from their former place. + +“It is later than I thought, Arthur,” said he. “I ought not to have kept +you so long from your rest, busy as your days are.” + +Arthur was quite disposed to go on, till sunrise, if his father wished +to take advantage of his services. He must meet his men very early in +the dewy morning to mow, and the night was now so far advanced that it +would be as well to watch it out. Dr. Sneyd was very thankful for his +aid. When they had satisfied themselves that the household were gone to +rest, and had replenished the lamp, nothing but brief directions and the +ticking of the watch was again heard in this upper chamber till the +chirping of birds summoned the mower to fetch his scythe. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER V. + + INTRODUCTIONS. + + +The true cause of Mr. Temple’s Sunday headache was spleen at the +occurrence of the morning. That Dr. Sneyd should preach, and in a +market-house, and that soldiers should come some miles to hear him was, +he declared, a perfect scandal to the settlement. He could not +countenance it. + +The scandal continued, without the countenance of the scrupulous +gentleman, till the autumn, when the reason of certain magnificent +doings at Temple Hall began to be apparent. Probably the only persons +who could have told what all this new building meant were forbidden to +do so, as Mrs. Sneyd could never obtain a word from her daughter in +return for all her conjectures about what the Lodge was to grow into at +last, the builders having no sooner done one task than they had to set +about another. There was infinite hurry and bustle about these last +additions. Workmen were brought from a distance to relieve those on the +spot, that no part of the long summer days might be lost. Wall rose +above wall; beam followed beam from the forest, and planks issued from +the sawpit with marvellous speed. One would have thought the President +was expected on a visit before winter; and, in fact, a rumour was +current in the village that some new capitalists were coming to look +about them, and were to be tempted to abide on some of the great man’s +lands. This seemed the more probable as a substantial house was being +built in the Lodge grounds, besides the new wing (as it appeared to be) +of the mansion itself. Every body agreed that this house must be +intended for somebody. + +The truth burst forth, one day late in the autumn, that seats instead of +partitions were being put up in the new building, and that the windows +were to be unlike those of the rest of the house:—in short, that it was +to be a chapel. The servants spread abroad the fact that company was +expected in a few days; to stay, they believed, all the winter.—Ay! till +the new house should be ready, every body supposed. Meantime, Mrs. +Temple said nothing more to her family than that friends of Mr. Temple’s +were shortly coming to stay at the Lodge. She had never seen them, and +knew but little about them:—hoped they might prove an acquisition to her +father:—depended upon Arthur’s civilities, if he should have it in his +power,—and so forth. + +It was seldom that Mr. Temple called on his father-in-law,—especially in +the middle of the day, when less irksome things could be found to do; +but, one bright noon, he was perceived approaching the house, driving +the barouche, in which were seated two ladies and a gentleman, besides +the heir of Temple Lodge. Dr. Sneyd stepped out of his low window into +the garden, and met them near the gate, where he was introduced to the +Rev. Ralph Hesselden, pastor of Briery Creek, and Mrs. Hesselden. + +The picturesque clergyman and his showy lady testified all outward +respect to the venerable old man before them. They forgot for a moment +what they had been told of his politics being "sad, very sad; quite +deplorable,"—and remembered only that he was the father of their +hostess. It was not till a full half hour after that they became duly +shocked at a man of his powers having been given over to the delusions +of human reason, and at his profaneness in having dared to set up for a +guide to others while he was himself blinded in the darkness of error. +There was so little that told of delusion in the calm simplicity of the +doctor’s countenance, and something so unlike profaneness and +presumption in his mild and serious manners, that it was not surprising +that his guests were so long in discovering the evil that was in him. + +Mrs. Sneyd was busy about a task into which she put no small share of +her energies. She had heard that nothing that could be eaten was half so +good as pomegranate preserve, well made. In concert with Arthur, she had +grown pomegranates with great success, and she was this morning engaged +in preserving them; using her utmost skill, in the hope that if it +should prove an impossible thing to make her husband care for one +preserve rather than another while he was in health, this might be an +acceptable refreshment in case of sickness; or that, at least, Temmy +would relish the luxury; and possibly Temple himself be soothed by it in +one of the fits of spleen with which he was apt to cloud the morning +meal.—The mess was stewing, and the lady sipping and stirring, when her +husband came to tell her who had arrived, and to request her to +appear;—came instead of sending, to give her the opportunity of removing +all traces of mortification before she entered the room. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Who?—a pastor? what, a methodist?—chaplain at the Lodge, +and pastor of Briery Creek?—My dear, this is aimed at you." + +"One can hardly say that, as I only preached because there was no one +else.—I must not stay. You will come directly, my dear." + +"I do not see how I can, my dear,"—glancing from her husband to her +stewpan, under a sense of outraged affection with respect to both of +them. “To take one so by surprise! I am sure it was done on purpose,” + +“Then let us carry it off with as little consternation as we can. Peggy +will take your place.” + +"And spoil all I have been doing, I know. And my face is so scorched, I +am not fit to be seen.—I’ll tell you what, my dear," she went on, +surrendering her long spoon to Peggy, and whisking off her apron,—“if I +appear now, I will not go and hear this man preach. I cannot be expected +to do that.” + +“We will see about that when Sunday comes,” the doctor turned back to +say, as he hastened back to the party who were amusing themselves with +admiring the early drawings of Mrs. Temple, which hung against the walls +of her mother’s parlour. The doctor brought in with him a literary +journal of a later date than any which had arrived at the Lodge, and no +one suspected that he had been ministering to his wife’s good manners. +Mrs. Temple was in pain for what might follow the introduction. + +There was no occasion for her inward tremors, nor for Dr. Sneyd’s quick +glance at his wife over his spectacles. Mrs. Sneyd might be fully +trusted to preserve her husband’s dignity. She instantly appeared,—so +courteous and self-possessed that no one could have perceived that she +had been hurried. The scorched cheeks passed with the strangers for the +ruddy health attendant on a country life, and they benevolently rejoiced +that she seemed likely to have some time before her yet, in which to +retract her heresies, and repent of all that she had believed and acted +upon through life. It was cheering to think of the safety that might +await her, if she should happily survive the doctor, and come under +their immediate guidance. + +The ladies were left to themselves while Temple was grimacing (as he did +in certain states of nervousness) and whipping the shining toe of his +right boot, and the other gentleman making the plunge into science and +literature in which the doctor always led the way when he could lay hold +of a man of education. One shade of disappointment after another passed +over his countenance when he was met with questions whether one +philosopher was not pursuing his researches into regions whence many had +returned infidels,—with conjectures whether an eminent patriot was not +living without God in the world,—and with doubts whether a venerable +philanthropist might still be confided in, since he had gone hand in +hand in a good work with a man of doubtful seriousness. At last, his +patience seemed to be put to the proof, for his daughter heard him say, + +“Well, sir, as neither you nor I are infidels, nor likely to become so, +suppose we let that matter pass. Our part is with the good tidings of +great deeds doing on the other side of the world. The faith of the doers +is between themselves and their God.” + +"But, sir, consider the value of a lost soul—" + +“I have so much hope of many souls being saved by every measure of wise +policy and true philanthropy, that I cannot mar my satisfaction by +groundless doubts of the safety of the movers. Let us take advantage of +the permission to judge them by their fruits, and then, it seems to me, +we may make ourselves very easy respecting them. Can you satisfy me +about this new method,—it is of immense importance,—of grinding +lenses——” + +Mr. Hesselden could scarcely listen further, so shocked was he with the +doctor’s levity and laxity in being eager about bringing new worlds +within human ken, while there seemed to the pious a doubt whether the +agents of divine wisdom and benignity would be cared for by him who sent +them.—Mr. Hesselden solemnly elevated his eyebrows, as he looked towards +his wife; and the glance took effect. The lady began inquiring of Mrs. +Sneyd respecting the spiritual affairs of the settlement. She hoped the +population had a serious turn. + +“Why, Madam,” replied Mrs. Sneyd, “every thing has so conduced to sober +the minds of our neighbours, that there has been little room yet for +frivolity among us. The circumstances of hardship, of one kind or +another, that led us all from our old homes were very serious; and it is +a serious matter to quit country and family and friends; and the first +casting about for subsistence in a new land is enough to bring thought +into the wildest brain; and now, when we have gathered many comforts +about us, and can thank Providence with full hearts, we are not at +liberty for idleness and levity. I assure you that Dr. Sneyd has had to +enlarge more against anxiety for the morrow than against carelessness or +vain-glory.” + +“I rejoice to hear it. This is good as far as it goes. But I was +inquiring about more important affairs.” + +"In more important matters still, I hope you will find much that is +encouraging. We are naturally free from the vices of extreme wealth or +poverty. Among the few whose labours have proved fruitful, there is a +sobriety of manners which I think will please you; and none are so poor +as to be tempted to dishonesty, or driven into recklessness. The cry of +‘stop thief’ has never been heard in Briery Creek, and you will neither +meet a drunken man nor a damsel dressed in tawdry finery.—By the way, +Louisa," she continued, addressing her daughter, “I am sorry there is +any difficulty about Rundell’s getting more land, and Chapman’s setting +up a general store. I have some fears that as our neighbours’ earnings +increase, we may see them spent in idle luxuries, unless there is a +facility in making a profitable investment.” + +“Where is the difficulty, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Temple. “If Rundell wants +land, I rather think Mr. Temple has plenty for him.” + +“I understand not.” + +Mrs. Temple was about to argue the matter on the ground of her husband’s +thousands of uncultivated acres, but recollecting that there might be +more in the matter than was apparent to her, she stopped short, and +there was a pause.—At length, Mrs. Hesselden, turning the fullest aspect +of her enormous white chip bonnet on Mrs. Sneyd, supposed that as the +neighbourhood was so very moral, there were no public amusements in +Briery Creek. + +“I am sorry to say there are none at present. Dr. Sneyd and my son +begin, next week, a humble attempt at a place of evening resort; and now +that Mr. Hesselden will be here to assist them, I hope our people will +soon be provided with a sufficiency of harmless amusement.” + +"You begin next week?—A prayer meeting?" asked the lady, turning to Mrs. +Temple. Mrs. Temple believed not. + +“We _have_ our meetings for intercourse on the subjects you refer to,” +replied Mrs. Sneyd; “but I understood you to be inquiring about places +of amusement. My son presented the settlement with a cricket ground +lately.” + +“A cricket ground, was it?” said Mrs. Temple. “I thought it had been a +bleaching ground. I understood it was the ladies of the place who were +to be the better for his bounty.” + +"That is true also. The same ground serves the washers on the Monday +morning, and the cricketers on the Saturday afternoon. You must know, +Mrs Hesselden, there is much trouble here in getting soap enough,—and +also candles,—for the purposes of all. There is some objection, I find, +to a general store being set up; so that only the richer of our +neighbours can obtain a regular supply of certain necessary articles; +and the poorer ones are just those who find it most expensive and +troublesome to make all the soap and candles they want. My son, knowing +how much consumption is saved by association, as he says, had a view to +these poorer settlers in opening the bleaching ground. They are truly +glad to get their linen washed twice as well in the field as at home, +and at half the expense of soap. They are very willing to clear the +place for the cricketers three afternoons in the week; and are already +beginning to pay off the cost incurred for the shed, with the boilers +and troughs. I really hardly know which is the prettiest sight,—the +games of the active young men, when they forget the worldly calculations +which are apt to engross new settlers too much,—or the merry maidens in +the field at noon, spreading out linen and blankets of a whiteness that +would be envied by most of the professional laundresses that I have +known." + +“All these things,” observed Mrs. Hesselden, "are of inferior +consequence. I mean——" + +"Very true: I mention them chiefly as signs of the times—not as the +limit to which our improvements have extended. We are anxious to provide +a reading-room for the youths, at the same time that we open our school. +My daughter has no doubt told you about the school which she is helping +to form. We find that the newspapers and journals which were always +deposited in the cricket-ground were so much relished by the players in +the intervals of their games, that Dr. Sneyd and my son have determined +to light up and warm the school-house every evening during the winter, +to be the resort of all who choose to go. Dr. Sneyd carries there the +humble beginning of a museum of natural history, which it must be the +care of our neighbours to improve. They can easily do so by exchanging +the productions of our forest and prairie for what may be obtained from +the societies Dr. Sneyd is connected with in England and France. All the +publications sent to us will find their way to the school-house; and +when the snow comes to enable a sleigh to bring us the packages of glass +we have been waiting for these eight months, the doctor will erect his +large telescope, and send an inferior one down to the village for the +use of his star-gazing neighbours." + +Observing Mrs. Hesselden’s supercilious silence, Mrs. Sneyd proceeded, +smiling, + +"I have had my share in the ordering of the affair, and have carried two +points, _nem. con._ The women are allowed as free ingress as their +husbands and brothers. I mentioned that candles were scarce, and you do +not need to be told that much sewing must be done in our households. By +bringing their work to the school-house, (which is within a stone’s +throw of most of the doors,) many of our hard-working mothers and +daughters will be spared the trouble and expense of making above half as +many candles as if each must have one burning during the whole of the +long evenings of winter. What is more important,—they will share the +benefit of the reading and other amusements that may be going on. My +other point is the dancing. I told Dr. Sneyd that if he carried a +telescope, and made them chill themselves with star-gazing, I must beg +leave to carry a fiddle for them to warm their feet by when they had +done. Two fiddlers have turned up already, and there are rumours of a +flute-player; and I have half promised my grandchild to lead off the +first dance, if he will persuade my son to take me for a partner." + +Mrs. Hesselden hoped that others would also be allowed to carry their +points, and then there would be prayer on meeting and parting in the +school-house. If it should be found that such an exercise was +incompatible with the dancing part of the scheme, she trusted Mrs. Sneyd +saw which must give way. + +Mrs. Sneyd would advocate no practice which was incompatible with +religious duty. In the present case, she thought that the only +concession required was that each exercise should have its proper +season. None of the usual objections to dancing would hold good here, +she continued. No shivering wretches stood without, while the rich were +making merry. There was no inducement to extravagance, and no room for +imprudence, and no encouragement to idleness. There was no scope for +these vices among the working-class of Briery Creek, and dancing was to +them (what it would be in many another place, if permitted) an innocent +enjoyment, a preventive of much solitary self-indulgence, and a +sweetener of many tempers. In a society whose great danger was the +growth of a binding spirit of worldliness, social mirth was an antidote +which no moralist would condemn, and which he would not dare to despise. + +Mrs. Hesselden, fearing that she could never make Mrs. Sneyd comprehend +how much more she and her husband were than mere moralists, quitted the +subject till she could explain to Mrs. Temple on the way home, that +though the presence of the Sneyds had undoubtedly been of great use in +fostering a morality which was better than nothing, yet it was evidently +high time that more should be added, and certainly a great blessing to +Briery Creek that her husband and she had arrived to breathe inspiration +into the social mass which was now lying,—if not dead,—yet under the +shadow of death. + +Mrs. Sneyd found time, before returning to her pomegranates, to take a +last wondering look at the immensity of Mrs. Hesselden’s chip bonnet, as +it floated, splendid in its variegated trimming, over the shrubs in her +passage to the garden gate. + +“I can never make out,” she observed to her husband, "why so many of +these very strict religious people dress so luxuriously as they do. Here +is this lady,—infinitely scandalized, I perceive, at our having +introduced dancing,—dressed after such a fashion as our maidens never +saw before. If they begin to bedizen themselves with the money which +might be spent profitably in increasing the means of subsistence, or +innocently in procuring substantial comforts which are now difficult to +be had, I shall lay the blame on Mrs. Hesselden’s bonnet. I remember +observing that I never saw so splendid a show-room for dress as the new +church we attended, in ——- street, the Sunday before we left London. It +is very odd." + +"Not more strange, my dear, than that the Friends should addict +themselves much to the furnishing their houses with expensive furniture, +and their tables with more costly and various foods than other people. +Not more strange than that Martin, the Methodist, should turn strolling +player when he gave up his methodism; or that the Irish betake +themselves to rebellion when stopped in their merry-makings; or that the +English artizan takes to the gin-shop when the fiddle is prohibited in +the public-house. Not more strange, my dear, than that the steam of your +kettle should come out at the lid, if you stop up the spout, or than +that——" + +“O, you put me in mind of my preserves! But how did you think Louisa +looked to-day?” + +"Not very well. There was a something—I do not know what——" + +"Well, I wondered whether you would observe. It may be the contrast of +Mrs. Hesselden’s dress that made me remark the thing so much. It really +vexed me to see Louisa so dressed. That collar was darned like any +stocking-heel; and how she got her bonnet ribbons dyed in this place, I +cannot think. What can be the meaning of her being so shabby? It is so +contrary to her taste,—unless she has taken up a new taste, for want of +something to do." + +Dr. Sneyd shook his head. He knew that Temple left his lady no lack of +something to do. Temmy had also dropped a piece of information about wax +candles lately, which convinced the doctor that the lady at the Hall was +now compelled to economize to the last degree in her own expenditure, +whatever indulgence might still be afforded to her tyrant’s tastes. + +“_He_ looks wretchedly too,” observed Mrs. Sneyd. “Not all his +spruceness could hide it, if he was as spruce as ever. But there is a +change in him too. One might almost call his ensemble slovenly to-day, +though it would be neatness itself in many another man. I believe he +half kills himself with snuff. He did nothing but open and shut his box +to-day. So much snuff must be very bad for a nervous man like him.” + +“Do you know, my dear,” said the doctor, "I have been thinking lately +whether we are not all rather hard upon that poor man——Yes, yes, I know. +I am not going to defend, only to excuse him a little. I am as unhappy +as you can be about all that Louisa has to go through with him, and +about his spoiling that poor boy for life,—doing all that can be done to +make him a dolt. But I am sure the man suffers—suffers dreadfully." + +“Suffers! How?” + +"Nay, you need but look in his face to see whether he is a happy man or +not; but what his ailments are, I do not pretend to say. His nerves +torture him, I am certain——" + +Mrs. Sneyd insinuated speculations about indulgence in brandy, opium, +spices, &c., and about remorse, fear, and the whole demon band of the +passions. Dr. Sneyd’s conjecture was that Temple’s affairs were in an +unsatisfactory condition, and that this trouble, acting on the mind of a +coward, probably drove him to the use of sufficient stimulus to irritate +instead of relieving him. Great allowance, he insisted, should be made +for a man in so pitiable a state, even by the parents of his wife. This +was so effectually admitted by the good lady, that she not only sent a +double portion of pomegranate preserve to the Lodge, but restrained her +anger when she heard that Rundell could not obtain liberty to invest as +he pleased the capital he had saved, owing to Temple’s evil influence at +the land-office; and that Arthur’s interests were wantonly injured by +his interference. Arthur had taken great pains to secure a supply of +fresh meat and fresh butter for the approaching winter; and besides the +hope of profit from his fine sheep and cows, he had the assurance of the +gratitude of his neighbours, who had grown heartily weary of salt pork +and salt butter the winter before. But Mr. Temple now set up a grand +salting establishment; and made it generally understood that only those +who were prudent enough to furnish themselves with his cheap salt +provision, rather than Mr. Sneyd’s dear mutton, should have his custom +in the market, and his countenance at the land-office. Arthur’s first- +slain sheep had to be eaten up by his father’s household and his own; +and it was a piece of great forbearance in Mrs. Sneyd, when she heard +that Arthur meant to kill no more mutton, to say only, “The poor little +man punishes nobody so much as himself. I do not see how he can relish +his own fresh mutton very much, while he prevents other people having +any.” + +“He cannot altogether prevent that, mother,” said Arthur. "He may +prevent mutton bearing any price in the market, and cut off my gains; +but we may still slay a sheep now and then, for ourselves; and find +neighbours who will quietly make such an exchange of presents as will +take off what we cannot consume. But I wish I could see an end of this +dictation,—this tyranny." + +“It does seem rather strange to have come to a land of freedom to be in +the power of such a despot. I wonder the people do not shake him off, +and send him to play the tyrant farther in the wilds.” + +“They are only waiting till his substance is all consumed, I fancy. He +has such a hold over the investments of some, and finds so much +employment for the labour of others, that they will submit to everything +for a time. But his hour will come, if he does not beware.” + +“It may be all very well for those who have investments to take time to +extricate their capital from his grasp,” said Mrs. Sneyd; “but as for +the builders and gardeners he employs, I think they would be wiser if +they carried their labour where they might depend on a more lasting +demand for it. Anybody may see that if he spends more every year in +undoing what he did the year before, his substance must soon come to an +end, and his labourers become his creditors. If I were they, I would +rather go and build barns that are paid for by the preservation of the +corn that is in them, and till fields that will maintain the labour of +tillage, and set more to work next year, than turn round a fine house +from south to west, and from west to south, and change shrubberies into +lawns, and lawns into flower-gardens, knowing that such waste must come +to an end.” + +“But some do not believe that it is waste, mother. They see the money +that pays them still in existence, still going the round of the market; +and they talk (as some people in England do about royal palaces, and +spendthrift noblemen’s establishments) of the blessing of a liberal +expenditure, and the patriotism of employing so much labour.” + +"Which would be all very well if the labourers lived upon the sight of +the money they are paid with. But, as long as that money is changed many +times over for bread and clothing, which all disappears in the process, +it is difficult to make out that anything is gained but the +pleasure,—which may be justifiable or not, according to the +circumstances of the employers. In the end, the money remains as it was +before, and instead of so much food and clothing, there is a royal +palace. If you do not like your palace, and pull it down and rebuild it, +the money exists as before, and for a double quantity of food and +clothing, you still have a palace." + +“The wrong notion you speak of arises partly,” said Dr. Sneyd, “from a +confusion between one sort of unproductive expenditure and another. +People hear of its being a fine thing to employ a crowd of labourers in +making a new line of road, or building a bridge, and they immediately +suppose it must be a patriotic thing to employ a crowd of labourers in +building any thing.” + +“I think they might perceive that, though corn does not grow on a high +road, nor bridges yield manufactures, the value of corn lands may be +doubled by opening a way to a new market, and that an unused water power +may begin to yield wealth from the moment that there is a bridge over +which buyers may come for it. It is a misfortune to Briery Creek that +Temple is more of a selfish palace-fancier than a patriotic bridge and +road maker.” + +The first Sunday of the opening of the chapel, Temple appeared in a +character which he had only once before attempted to support. On the +occasion of using the market-house for service, he had approached the +door, cast a glance within upon the company of soldiers, and the village +population at their worship, while their aged friend was leading their +devotions, and hastily departed, thankful that he was too pious to join +in such a service as this. He took the part of a religious man that day, +and now was the time for him to resume the character. Under the idea +that the market-house might be opened as usual for Dr. Sneyd, making his +own appear like an opposition place of worship, he spared no pains to +secure a majority in point of audience. He had managed to ride past the +military post, and be gracious with the soldiers. His domestics puffed +the chapel and chaplain at market, the day before, and the leading +villagers received intimations of good sittings being appropriated to +them. These pains might have been spared. All who desired might know +that Dr. Sneyd, his wife, son, and servants intended to be present, as a +matter of course. + +When they entered, Temple looked nearly as much surprised as if they had +at the moment arrived from England. He made a prodigious bustle about +having them accommodated in a seat next his own, and condescendingly +sent them books, and inquired into the sufficiency of hassocks. During +the greater part of the service he stood up, as if he could not listen +with sufficient attention while sitting, like other people. Yet he +cleared his throat if any body moved, and sent his pert glance into +every corner to command a reverential demeanour, while his chaplain was +enforcing, as the prime glory and charm of a place of worship, that +there, and there alone, all are equal and all are free. Little Ephraim +cowered behind the coachman while the preacher insisted that here the +humblest slave might stand erect on the ground of his humanity; and the +butler stepped on tiptoe half way down the aisle to huff Jenkins the +ditcher for coming so high up, at the very moment that something was +quoted about a gold ring and purple raiment in the synagogue. + +It was true the preacher and his message had not so good a chance of +being attended to as they might have on future Sundays. The bustle +produced by the anticipation of the occasion did not subside on the +arrival of the occasion. The fine large chip bonnets had been procured, +and the trimming and sending them home had been achieved by the Saturday +night. But it remained to wear them for the first time: not only to +support the consciousness of a new piece of finery, but to compare the +fine bonnets with the shabby head-gear of other people, with each other, +and, finally, with Mrs. Hesselden’s. Then, while Mrs. Dods was thus +contemplating the effect of her own peculiar species of architecture, +her husband could not but look round him, and remember that every +individual brick of this pile had been fashioned by himself and his +lads. The builder scanned the measurements of the windows and the +ceiling. Two or three boys and girls shuffled their feet on the matting +which their mother had woven. A trader from the north gradually made up +his mind to approach the ladies after service, for the purpose of +recommending fur pouches for the feet during the severe season that was +approaching. The Brawnees, unincumbered by any thing beyond their +working-day apparel, were among the best listeners. Temmy was so alarmed +at the prospect of having to give his father, for the first time, an +account of the sermon, that he could not have taken in a word of it, +even if he had not been miserable at seeing the tears coursing one +another down his mother’s cheeks during the whole time of the service. +Her left hand hung by her side, but he did not dare to touch it. He +looked at Mrs. Hesselden to try to find out whether she thought his +mother was ill; or whether the sermon was affecting; or whether this was +the consequence of something that had been said at breakfast against +grandpapa. Grandpapa seemed to be listening very serenely to the sermon, +and that was a better comfort than Mrs. Hesselden’s countenance,—so +grave, that Temmy feared to provoke a cross word if he looked at her +again. + +It was not known, till the ladies of the village ranged themselves round +the work-table in the school-house, one chilly evening, soon afterwards, +how great had been the bustle of preparation before the fine chip +bonnets made their appearance in the chapel. All hearts, even those of +rival milliners, were laid open by the sight of the roaring wood fire, +the superior candles, the hearty welcome, and the smiling company that +awaited them as they dropped in at the place of entertainment,—the women +with their sewing apparatus, and their husbands and brothers ready for +whatever occupation might have been devised for their leisure evening +hours. While these latter crowded round the little library, to see of +what it consisted, the sewers placed their benches round the deal table, +snuffed their candles, and opened their bundles of work. Mrs. Dods made +no mystery of her task. She was cutting up a large chip bonnet to make +two small hats for her youngest boy and girl, owning that, not having +calculated on any one else attempting to gratify the rage for imitating +Mrs. Hesselden, she had injured her speculation by overstocking the +market. The lawyer’s lady had been reckoned upon as a certain customer; +but it turned out,—however true that the lawyer’s lady must have a chip +bonnet,—that the builder’s wife had just then entered upon a rivalship +with the brickmaker’s wife, and had stuck up at her window bonnets a +trifle cheaper than those of Mrs. Dods. It only remained for Mrs. Dods +to show how pretty her little folks looked in hats of the fashionable +material, in hopes that the demand might spread to children. + +“If it does, Mrs. Dods, Martha Jenkins will have the same reason to +complain of you that you have to complain of being interfered with. It +is unknown the trouble that Jenkins has had, following the river till he +came to the beavers, and then hunting them, and preparing their skins at +home, and all that, while Martha spared no pains to make beaver hats for +all the boys and girls in the place. It will be rather hard if you cut +her out.” + +“And you can do it only by lowering your price ruinously,” observed Mrs. +Sneyd. “I should think any mother in Briery Creek would rather keep her +child’s ears from freezing by putting on her a warm beaver, than dress +her out prettily in a light chip, at this season. Nothing but a great +difference in price can give yours the preference, I should think, Mrs. +Dods.” + +“Then such a difference there must be,” Mrs. Dods replied. “I had rather +sell my article cheap than not sell it at all. Another time I shall take +care how I run myself out at elbows in providing for a new fashion among +the ladies.” + +Mrs. Sneyd thought that those were engaged in the safest traffic who +dealt in articles in the commonest use,—who looked for custom chiefly +from the lower, i.e. the larger classes of the people. From their +numbers, those classes are always the greatest consumers; and, from the +regularity of their productive industry, they are also the most regular +consumers. It seemed probable that the demand for Martha Jenkins’s +beavers would prove superior in the long run to that for Mrs. Dods’s +varied supply, though poor Martha might suffer for a while from the glut +of chips which occasioned loss to all sellers of bonnets, at present, +and gain to all sellers of whatever was given in exchange for bonnets. +Fat for candles was scarcely to be had since Temple had discouraged the +sale of fresh meat. Mrs. Dods was deplorably in want of candles. She +made a bargain with a neighbour for some in return for the hat now under +her hands. How few she was to receive, it vexed her to think; but there +was no help for it till somebody should supply the deficiency of +candles, or till new heads should crave covering. + +It now appeared that the ladies were not the only persons who had +brought their work. When it came to be decided who should be the reader, +it was unanimously agreed that some one who had no employment for his +hands should undertake the office. Dods had leathern mittens to make for +the less hardy of the woodsmen. Others occupied themselves in platting +straw, making mops, cutting pegs to be employed in roofing, and cobbling +shoes. Arthur drew sketches for Temmy to copy. Such was always the +pretence for Arthur’s drawings; but a neighbour who cast a peep over his +shoulder, from time to time, could not help thinking that the sketch was +of the present party, with Dr. Sneyd in the seat of honour by the fire- +side, Mrs. Sneyd knitting in the shadow, that the full benefit of the +candles might be yielded to those whose occupation required it; Isaac, +who had received the honour of the first appointment as reader, holding +his book rather primly, and pitching his voice in a key which seemed to +cause a tendency to giggle among some of the least wise of his auditors; +and, lastly, the employed listeners, as they sat in various postures, +and in many lights, as the blaze from the logs now flickered low, and +now leaped up to lighten all the room. Each of these was suspected to be +destined to find a place in Arthur’s sketch. + +It was a pity Temmy was not here to take a drawing lesson, his uncle +thought. These evening meetings afforded just the opportunity that was +wanted; for Arthur could seldom find time to sit down and make his +little nephew as good an artist as he believed he might become. It was +not till quite late, when the party would have begun dancing if some one +had not given a broad hint about the doctor’s telescope, that Temmy +appeared. Nobody heard his steed approach the door, and every body +wondered to see him. It was thought that Mr. Temple would have allowed +no one belonging to him to mix with those whom he was pleased to call +the common people of the place. Unguarded, the boy would indeed have +been exposed to no such risk of contamination; but Mr. Hesselden had +promised to be there, and it was believed that, under his wing, the boy +would take no harm, while Mr. Temple’s object, of preserving a connexion +with whatever passed in his neighbourhood, might be fulfilled. + +Mr. Hesselden was not there; and if it was desirable that Temple’s +representative should make a dignified appearance on this new occasion, +never was a representative more unfortunately chosen. The little fellow +crept to his grandmamma’s side, shivering and half crying. The good lady +observed that it was indeed very cold, chafed his hands, requested +Rundell to throw another log or two on the fire, and comforted the boy +with assurances that he was come in time to dance with her. Every body +was ready with protestations that it was indeed remarkably cold. It was +thought the beauty of the woods was nearly over for this season. In a +few days more it was probable that the myriads of stems in the forest +would be wholly bare, and little green but the mosses left for the eye +to rest upon under the woven canopy of boughs. Few evergreens grew near, +so that the forest was as remarkably gloomy in winter as it was bright +in the season of leaves. + +When the window was opened, that the star-gazers might reconnoitre the +heavens, it was found that the air was thick with snow;—snow was falling +in a cloud. + +“Do but see!” cried Arthur. “No star-gazing to-night, nor dancing +either, I fancy, if we mean to get home before it is knee-deep. Temmy, +did it snow when you came?” + +“O, yes,” answered the boy, his teeth chattering at the recollection. + +“Why did not you tell us, my dear?” asked Mrs. Sneyd. + +The doctor was inwardly glad that there was so good a reason for Mr. +Hesselden’s absence. + +“No wonder we did not hear the horse trot up to the door,” observed some +one. “Come, ladies, put up your work, unless you mean to stay here till +the next thaw.” + +A child or two was present who was delighted to think of the way to the +school-house being impassable till the next thaw. + +“Stay a bit,” cried Rundell, coming in from the door, and pulling it +after him. "I am not going without my brand, and a fine blazing one +too,—with such noises abroad." + +“What noises?” + +“Wolves. A strong pack of them, to judge by the cry.” + +All who possessed sheep were now troubled with dire apprehensions: and +their fears were not allayed when Temmy let fall that wolves were +howling, as the groom thought, on every side, during his ride from the +Lodge. The boy had never been so alarmed in his life; and he laid a firm +grasp on uncle Arthur’s coat-collar when there was talk of going home +again. + +“You must let me go, Temmy. I must look after my lambs without more loss +of time. If you had not been the strangest boy in the world, you would +have given us notice to do so, long ago. I cannot conceive what makes +you so silent about little things that happen.” + +Mrs. Sneyd could very well account for that which puzzled Arthur. She +understood little minds, and had watched, only too anxiously, the +process by which continual checking had rendered her grand-child afraid +to tell that there was snow, or that wolves were abroad. + +“Come, lads,” cried Arthur. “Who cares for his sheep? Fetch your arms, +and meet me at the poplar by the Kiln, and we will sally out to the +pens, and have a wolf-hunt.” + +There was much glee at the prospect of this frolic; the more that such +an one had not been expected to occur yet awhile. So early a +commencement of winter had not happened within the experience of any +inhabitant of Briery Creek. The swine in the woods had not yet exhausted +their feast of autumn berries; and fallen apples and peaches enough +remained to feed them for a month. The usual signal of the advance of +the season,—these animals digging for hickory nuts among the rotting +leaves,—had not been observed. In short, the snow had taken every body +by surprise, unless it was the wolves. + +Dr. Sneyd lighted and guided home his wife and Temmy, in almost as high +spirits as the youngest of the wolf-hunters. The season of sleighing was +come, and his precious package of glass might soon be attainable. Dire +as were the disasters which befel the party on their way,—the wetting, +the loss of the track, the stumbles, the dread of wild beasts, and +Temmy’s disappearance for ten seconds in a treacherous hollow,—the +doctor did not find himself able to regret the state of the weather. He +fixed his thoughts on the interests of science, and was consoled for +every mischance. + +If he had foreseen all that would result from this night’s adventure, he +would not have watched with so much pleasure for the lights along the +verge of the forest, when the snow had ceased; nor have been amused at +the tribute of wolves’ heads which he found the next morning deposited +in his porch. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER VI. + + A FATHER’S HOPE. + + +For several days an unwonted stillness reigned in Dr. Sneyd’s +abode;—from the day that the fever under which Arthur was labouring had +appeared of a serious character. While it was supposed to be merely a +severe cold, caught on the night of the wolf-hunt, all had gone on as +much in the common way as could be expected under the novelty of a sick +person being in the house; but from the moment that there was a hint of +danger, all was studious quiet. The surgeon stepped stealthily up +stairs, and the heavy-footed maids did their best not to shake the +floors they trod. Mrs. Temple conducted her consultations with her +father in a whisper, though the study door was shut; and there was thus +only too much opportunity for the patient’s voice to be heard all over +the house, when his fever ran high. + +Temmy did not like to stay away, though he was very unhappy while on the +spot. When he could not slip in behind the surgeon, he avoided the hall +by entering the study through the garden-window. Then he could sit +unobserved in the low chair; and, what was better, unemployed. He had an +earnest desire to be of use, but so deep a conviction that he never +could be useful, that it was a misery to him to be asked to do any +thing. If requested merely to go an errand, or to watch for a messenger, +he felt as if his uncle’s life depended on what he might see and say and +do, within a few minutes; and he was therefore apt to see wrong, and +speak amiss, and do the very reverse of what he ought to do. All this +was only more tolerable than being at home;—either alone, in momentary +terror of his father coming in; or with his father, listening to +complaints of Mrs. Temple’s absence, or invited to an ill-timed +facetiousness which he dared not decline, however sick at heart he might +be. + +He had just crouched down in the great chair one morning, (supposing +that Dr. Sneyd, who was bending over a letter at the table, had not seen +him enter,) when Mrs. Temple appeared from the sick chamber. As she +found time, in the first place, to kiss the forehead of her boy, whom +she had not seen since the preceding afternoon, he took courage to ask, + +“Is uncle Arthur better?” + +Mrs. Temple could not reply otherwise than by a melancholy shake of the +head. Dr. Sneyd turned round. + +“No, my dear,” he said. “Your uncle is not better. Louisa,” he +continued, observing his daughter’s haggard and agitated countenance, +“you must rest. This last night has been too much for you.” + +Arthur had dropped asleep at last, Mrs. Temple said; a troubled sleep, +which she feared would soon be at an end; but she saw the surgeon coming +up, and wished to receive him below, and ask him——A sudden thought +seemed to strike her. + +"My dear, go up to your uncle’s room——" + +Temmy drew back, and very nearly said “No.” + +“You can leave your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. Ask your +grandmamma to come down to us; and do you sit at the bottom of the bed, +and watch your uncle’s sleep. If he seems likely to wake, call me. If +not, sit quiet till I come.” + +Temmy moved slowly away. He had not once been in the room since the +illness began, and nothing could exceed the awe he felt of what he might +behold. He dared not linger, and therefore stole in, and delivered his +message in so low a whisper that his grandmamma could not hear it till +she had beckoned him out to the landing. She then went down, making a +sign to him to take her place. It was now necessary to look into the +bed; and Temmy sat with his eyes fixed, till his head shook +involuntarily with his efforts to keep a steady gaze on his uncle’s +face. That face seemed to change its form, hue and motion every instant, +and sometimes Temmy fancied that the patient was suffocating, and then +that he had ceased to breathe, according to the state that his own +senses were in. Sometimes the relaxed and shrunken hand seemed to make +an effort to grasp the bed clothes, and then Temmy’s was instantly +outstretched, with a start, to the hand-bell with which he was to summon +help. How altered was the face before him! So hollow, and wearing such +an expression of misery! There was just sufficient likeness to uncle +Arthur to enable Temmy to believe that it was he; and quite enough +difference to suggest his being possessed; or, in some sort, not quite +uncle Arthur. He wished somebody would come. How was he to know how soon +he should ring the bell? + +This was soon decided. Without a moment’s warning, Arthur opened his +eyes wide, and sat up in the bed, looking at Temmy, till the boy nearly +screamed, and never thought of ringing the bell. When he saw, however, +that Arthur was attempting to get out of bed, he rang hastily, and then +ran to him, saying, + +"O, uncle, do lie down again, that I may tell you about the lamb that +got so torn, you know. I have a great deal to tell you about that lamb, +and the old ewe too. And Isaac says——" + +“Ay, the lamb, the lamb,” feebly said Arthur, sinking back upon his +pillow. + +When Dr. Sneyd presently appeared, he found Arthur listening dully, +painfully, with his glazed eyes fixed on the boy, who was telling, in a +hurried manner of forced cheerfulness, a long story about the lamb that +was getting well. He broke off when help appeared. + +“O grandpapa, he woke in such a hurry! He tried to get out of bed, +grandpapa.” + +“Yes, my dear, I understand. You did just the right thing, Temmy; and +now you may go down. None of us could have done better, my dear boy.” + +Any one who had met Temmy crying on the stairs would have rather +supposed that he had done just the wrong thing. Yet Temmy was a +different boy from that hour. He even thought that he should not much +mind being in uncle Arthur’s room again, if any body should wish to send +him there. It was yet some time before the event of this illness was +considered as decided, and as the days passed on, there became less and +less occasion for inquiry in words, each morning. Whenever Dr. Sneyd’s +countenance was remarkably placid, and his manner particularly quiet, +Temmy knew that his uncle was worse. It was rarely, and during very +brief intervals, that he was considered better. Strange things happened +now and then which made the boy question whether the world was just now +going on in its usual course. It was not very strange to hear his papa +question Mrs. Temple, during the short periods of her being at home, +about Arthur’s will; whether he had one; how it was supposed his +property would be left; and whether he was ever sensible enough to make +any alterations that might be desirable under the late growth of his +little property. It was not strange that Mr. Temple should ask these +questions, nor that they should be answered briefly and with tears: but +it was strange that papa went one day himself into the grapery, and cut +with his own hands the very finest grapes for Arthur, and permitted +Temmy to carry them, though they filled a rather large basket. It seemed +strange that Mr. Kendall, apt as he was, when every body was well, to +joke in season and out of season with guests and neighbours, should now +be grave from morning till night, and often through the night, watching, +considering, inventing, assisting, till Mrs. Sneyd said that, if Arthur +recovered, he would owe his life, under God, to the care of his medical +friend. It was strange to see a physician arrive from a great distance, +twice in one week, and go away again as soon as his horse was refreshed: +though nothing could be more natural than the anxiety of the villagers +who stood at their doors, ready to accost the physician as he went away, +and to try to learn how much hope he really thought there was of +Arthur’s recovery. It was very strange to meet Dr. Sneyd, one morning, +with Arthur’s axe on his shoulder, going out to do some work in the +woods that Arthur had been talking about all night, and wanted +grievously to be doing himself, till Dr. Sneyd had promised that he, and +nobody else, should accomplish it for him. It was strange that Mr. +Hesselden should choose that time, of all others, to turn back with Dr. +Sneyd, and ask why he had not been sent for to the patient’s bed-side, +urging that it was dreadful to think what might become of him hereafter, +if it should please God to remove him in his present feeble condition of +mind. Of all strange things it seemed the strangest that any one should +dare to add to such trouble as the greyhaired father must be suffering, +and that Mr. Hesselden should fancy himself better qualified than Dr. +Sneyd to watch over the religious state of this virtuous son of a pious +parent. Even Temmy could understand enough to be disgusted, and to +venerate the humble dignity with which Mr. Hesselden’s officiousness was +checked, and the calmness with which it was at once admitted that +Arthur’s period of probation seemed to be fast drawing to a close. But +nothing astonished the boy so much as some circumstances relating to his +mother. Temmy never knew before that she was fond of uncle Arthur,—or of +any one, unless it was himself. When his papa was not by, her manner was +usually high and cold to every body; and it had become more strikingly +so since he had observed her dress to be shabby. He was now awe-struck +when he saw her sit sobbing behind the curtain, with both hands covering +her face. But it was much worse to see her one day, after standing for a +long while gazing on the sunken countenance before her, cast herself +down by the bedside and cry, + +"O, Arthur—Arthur—you will not look at me!" + +Temmy could not stay to see what happened. He took refuge with his +grandpapa, who, on hearing what had overpowered him, led him up again to +the chamber, where Louisa was on her knees, weeping quietly with her +face hid in the bed clothes. She was not now in so much need of comfort. +Arthur had turned his eyes upon her, and, she thought, attempted to +speak. She believed she could now watch by him till the last without +repining; but it had been dreary,—most dreary, to see him wasting +without one sign of love or consciousness. + +“What must it be then, my dear daughter, to watch for months and years +in vain for such a sign?” The doctor held in his hand a letter which +Temmy had for some days observed that his grandfather seemed unable to +part with. It told that the most beloved of his old friends had had an +attack of paralysis. It was little probable that he would write or send +message more. + +“That it should happen just at this time!” murmured Louisa. + +"I grieve for you, my dear. You have many years before you, and the loss +of this brother——But for your mother and me it is not altogether so +trying. We cannot have very long to remain; and the more it pleases God +to wean us from this world, the less anxiety there will be in leaving +it. If the old friends we loved, and the young we depended on, go first, +the next world is made all the brighter; and it is with that world that +we have now most to do." + +"But of all losses—that Arthur must be the one——" + +"This is the one we could be least prepared for, and from this there is, +perhaps, the strongest recoil,—especially when we think of this +boy,"—laying his hand on Temmy’s head. “But it is enough that it is the +fittest for us. If we cannot see this, we cannot but believe it; and let +the Lord do what seemeth to him good.” + +"But such a son! Such a man——" + +"Ah! there is precious consolation! No father’s—no mother’s heart—Hear +me, Arthur"——and he laid his hand on that of his son—“No parent’s heart +had ever more perfect repose upon a child than we have had upon you, my +dear son!” + +“He hears you.” + +"If not now, I trust he shall know it hereafter. His mother and I have +never been thankless, I believe, for what God has given us in our +children; but now is the time to feel truly what His bounty has been. +Some time hence, we may find ourselves growing weary under our loss, +however we may acquiesce: but now there is the support given through him +who is the resurrection and the life,—this support without drawback, +without fear. Thank God!" + +After a pause, Mrs. Temple said, hesitatingly, + +“You have seen Mr. Hesselden?” + +"I have. He believes that there is presumption in the strength of my +hope. But it seems to me that there would be great presumption in doubt +and dread. If my son were a man of a worldly mind,—if his affections +were given to wealth and fame, or to lower objects still, it would +become us to kneel and cry, day and night, for more time, before he must +enter the state where, with such a spirit, he must find himself poor and +miserable and blind and naked. But his Maker has so guided him that his +affections have been fixed on objects which will not be left behind in +this world, or buried away with the body, leaving him desolate in the +presence of his God. He loves knowledge, and for long past he has lived +on benevolence; and he will do the same henceforth and for ever, if the +gospel, in which he has delighted from his youth up, say true. Far be it +from us to doubt his being happy in thus living for the prime ends of +his being!" + +Mrs. Temple was still silent. + +“You are thinking of the other side of his character,” observed Dr. +Sneyd; “of that dark side which every fallible creature has. Here would +be my fear, if I feared at all. But I do not fear for Arthur that +species of suffering which he has ever courted here. I believe he was +always sooner or later thankful for the disappointment of unreasonable +desires, and the mortifications of pride, and all retribution for sins +and follies. There is no reason to suppose that he will shrink from the +retribution which will in like manner follow such sins and follies as he +may carry with him into another state. All desires whose gratification +cannot enter there will be starved out. The process will be painful; but +the subject of this pain will be the first to acquiesce in it. We, +therefore, will not murmur nor fear.” + +“If all this be true, if it be religious, how many torment themselves +and one another in vain about the terrors of the gospel!” + +"Very many. For my part, whatever terrors I might feel without the +gospel,—and I can imagine that they might be many and great,—I cannot +conceive of any being left when the gospel is taken home to the +understanding and the heart. It so strips away all the delusions, amidst +which alone terror can arise under the recognition of a benignant +Providence, as to leave a broad unincumbered basis for faith to rest +upon; a faith which must pass from strength to strength, divesting +itself of one weakness and pain after another, till the end comes when +perfect love casts out fear;—a consummation which can never be reached +by more than a few, while arbitrary sufferings are connected with the +word of God in the unauthorized way which is too common at present. No! +if there be one characteristic of the gospel rather than another, it is +its repudiating terrors—(and terrors belong only to ignorance)—by +casting a new and searching light on the operations of Providence, and +showing how happiness is the issue of them all. Surely, daughter, there +is no presumption in saying this, to the glory of Him who gave the +gospel." + +“I trust not, father.” + +"My dear, with as much confidence as an apostle, were he here, would +desire your brother to arise and walk before us all, do I say to him, if +he can yet hear me, ‘Fear not, for God is with thee.’ I wish I feared as +little for you, Louisa; but indeed this heavy grief is bearing you down. +God comfort you, my child! for we perceive that we cannot." + +With a passion of grief, Louisa prayed that she might not be left the +only child of her parents. She had never been, she never should be, to +them what she ought. Arthur must not go. Her father led her away, +soothing her self-reproaches, and giving her hope, by showing how much +of his hope for this world depended on her. She made a speedy effort to +compose herself, as she could not bear to be long absent from Arthur’s +bedside. Her mother was now there, acting with all the silent self- +possession which she had preserved throughout. + +The snow was all melted before the morning when the funeral train set +forth from Dr. Sneyd’s door. On leaving the gate, the party turned,—not +in the direction of the chapel, but towards the forest. As Mr. Hesselden +could not in conscience countenance such a departure as that of +Arthur,—lost in unbelief, and unrelieved of his sins as he believed the +sufferer to have been,—it was thought better that the interment should +take place as if no Mr. Hesselden had been there. and no chapel built; +and the whole was conducted as on one former occasion since the +establishment of the settlement. The plain coffin was carried by four of +the villagers, and followed by all the rest, except a very few who +remained about the Lodge. Mrs. Sneyd would not hear of her husband’s +going through the service unsupported by any of his family. Mrs. +Temple’s presence was out of the question. Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy +therefore walked with Dr. Sneyd. When arrived at the open green space +appointed, the family sat down beside the coffin, while the men who had +brought spades dug a grave, and those who had borne axes felled trees +with which to secure the body from the beasts of the forest. There was +something soothing rather than the contrary in observing how all went on +as if the spectators had been gazing with their usual ease upon the +operations of nature. The squirrels ran among the leaves which gaudily +carpeted the ground in the shade: the cattle browzed carelessly, +tinkling their bells among the trees. A lark sprang up from the ground- +nest where she was sitting solitary when the grave-diggers stirred the +long grass in which she had been hidden; and a deer, which had taken +alarm at the shock of the woodsmen’s axes, made a timid survey of the +party, and bounded away into the dark parts of the wood. The children, +who were brought for the purpose of showing respect to the departed, +could scarcely be kept in order by their anxious parents, during the +time of preparation. They would pick up glossy brown nuts that lay at +their feet; and trudged rustling through all the leaves they could +manage to tread upon, in hopes of dislodging mice or other small animals +to which they might give chase. One little girl, with all a little +girl’s love for bright colours, secured a handful of the scarlet leaves +of the maple, the deep yellow of the walnut and hickory, and the pink of +the wild vine; and, using the coffin for a table, began laying out her +treasure there in a circle. Dr. Sneyd was watching her with a placid +smile, when the mother, in an agony of confusion, ran to put a stop to +the amusement. The doctor would not let the child be interfered with. He +seemed to have pleasure in entering into the feelings of as many about +him as could not enter into his. + +He was quite prepared for his office at the moment when all was ready +for him. None who were present had ever beheld or listened to a funeral +service so impressive as this of the greyheaded father over the grave of +his son. The few, the very few natural tears shed at the moment of final +surrender did not impair the dignity of the service, nor, most +assuredly, the acceptableness of the devotion from which, as much as +from human grief, they sprang. The doctor would himself see the grave +filled up, and the felled trees so arranged upon it as to render it +perfectly safe. Then he was ready to be the support of his wife home; +and at his own gate, he forgot none who had paid this last mark of +respect to his son. He shook hands with them every one, and touched his +hat to them when he withdrew within the gate. + +Mrs. Sneyd wistfully followed him into his study, instead of going to +seek her daughter.—Was he going to write? + +“Yes, my dear. There is one in England to whom these tidings are first +due from ourselves. I shall write but little; for hers will be an +affliction with which we must not intermeddle. At least, it is natural +for Arthur’s father to think so. Will you stay beside me? Or are you +going to Louisa?” + +"I ought to write to Mrs. Rogers; and I think I will do it now, beside +you. And yet——Louisa——Tell me, dear, which I shall do." + +There was something in the listlessness and indecision of tone with +which this was said that more nearly overset Dr. Sneyd’s fortitude than +any thing that had happened this day. Conquering his emotion, he said, + +"Let us both take a turn in the garden first, and then——"—and he drew +his wife’s arm within his own, and led her out. Temmy was +there,—lingering, solitary and disconsolate in one of the walks. The +servants had told him that he must not go up to his mamma; they believed +she was asleep; and then Temmy did not know where to go, and was not at +all sure how much he might do on the day of a funeral. In exerting +themselves to cheer him, the doctor and Mrs. Sneyd revived each other; +and when Mrs. Temple arose, head-achy and feverish, and went to the +window for air, she was surprised to see her father with his spade in +his hand, looking on while Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy sought out the last +remains of the autumn fruit in the orchard. + +When the long evening had set in, and the most necessary of the letters +were written, little seemed left to be done but to take care of Mrs. +Temple, whose grief had, for the present, much impaired her health. She +lay shivering on a couch drawn very near the fire; and her mother began +to feel so uneasy at the continuance of her head-ache that she was +really glad when Mr. Kendall came up from the village to enquire after +the family. It was like his usual kind attention; and perhaps he said no +more than the occasion might justify of distress of mind being the cause +of indisposition. Yet his manner struck Mrs. Sneyd as being peculiarly +solemn,—somewhat inquisitive, and, on the whole, unsatisfactory. Mrs. +Temple also asked herself for a moment whether Kendall could possibly +know that she was not a happy wife, and would dare to exhibit his +knowledge to her. But she was not strong enough to support the dignified +manner necessary on such a supposition; and she preferred dismissing the +thought. She was recommended to rest as much as possible; to turn her +mind from painful subjects; and, above all, to remain where she was. She +must not think of going home at present;—a declaration for which every +body present was heartily thankful. + +When Temmy had attended the surgeon to the door, he returned; and +instead of seating himself at his drawing, as before, wandered from +window to window, listening, and seeming very uncomfortable. Dr. Sneyd +invited him to the fire-side, and made room for him between his knees; +but Temmy could not be happy even there,—the night was so stormy, and it +was raining so very heavily! + +“Well, my dear?” + +“And uncle Arthur is out in the wood, all alone, and every body else so +comfortable at home!” + +“My boy, your uncle can never more be hurt by storm or heat, by night +dew or rain. We will not forget him while we are comfortable, as you +say, by our fire-side: but it is we ourselves, the living, who have to +be sheltered and tended with care and pains, like so many infants, while +perhaps the departed make sport of these things, and look back upon the +needful care of the body as grown men look down upon the cradles they +were rocked in, and the cushions spread for them to fall upon when they +learned to walk. Uncle Arthur may know more about storms than we; but we +know that they will never more beat upon his head.” + +Temmy believed this; yet he could not help thinking of the soaked grass, +and the dripping boughs, and the groaning of the forest in the wind,—and +even of the panther and the wild cat snuffing round the grave they could +not reach. He could not help feeling as if his uncle was deserted; and +he had moreover the fear that, though he could never, never think less +of him than now, others would fall more and more into their old way of +talking and laughing in the light of the fire, without casting a thought +towards the forest or any thing that it contained. He felt as if he was, +in such a case, called upon to vindicate uncle Arthur’s claims to solemn +remembrance, and pondered the feasibility of staying at home alone to +think about uncle Arthur when the time should be again come for every +body else to be reading and working, or dancing, during the evenings at +the schoolhouse. + +Mrs. Sneyd believed all that her husband had just said to Temmy; and the +scripture which he read this evening to his family, about the heavenly +transcending the earthly, did not pass idly over her ear; yet she so far +felt with Temmy that she looked out, forest-wards, for long before she +tried to rest; and, with the first grey of the morning, was again at the +same station. On the first occasion, she was somewhat surprised by two +things that she saw;—many lights flitting about the village, and on the +road to the Lodge,—and a faint glimmer, like the spark of a glow-worm, +in the opposite direction, as if precisely on the solitary spot where +Arthur lay. Dr. Sneyd could not distinguish it through the storm; but on +being assured that there was certainly some light, supposed that it +might be one of the meteoric fires which were wont to dart out of the +damp brakes, and run along the close alleys of the forest, like swift +torch-bearers of the night. For the restlessness in the village he could +not so easily account; nor did he take much pains to do so; for he was +wearied out,—and the sleep of the innocent, the repose of the pious, +awaited him. + +"From this he was unwillingly awakened, at peep of dawn, by Mrs. Sneyd, +who was certain that she had distinguished the figure of a man, closely +muffled, pacing the garden. She had previously fancied she heard a +horse-tread in the turf road. + +“My dear,” said the doctor, “who should it be? We have no thieves here, +you know; and what should anybody else want in our garden at this hour?” + +"Why—you will not believe me, I dare say,—but I have a strong +impression,—I cannot help thinking it is Temple." + +Dr. Sneyd was at the window without another word. It was still so dark +that he could not distinguish the intruder till he passed directly +before the window. At that moment the doctor threw up the sash. The wind +blew in chilly, bringing the autumnal scent of decaying vegetation from +the woods; but the rain was over. The driving clouds let out a faint +glimmer from the east; but all besides was darkness, except a little +yellow light which was still wandering on the prairie, and which now +appeared not far distant from the paling of the orchard. + +“Mr. Temple, is it you?” asked Dr. Sneyd. “What brings you here?” + +The gentleman appeared excessively nervous. He could only relate that he +wanted to see his wife,—that he must see Mrs. Temple instantly. She must +come down to him,—down to the window, at least. He positively could not +enter the house. He had not a moment to spare. He was on business of +life and death. He must insist on Mrs. Temple being called. + +She was so, as the intelligence of her being ill seemed to effect no +change in the gentleman’s determination. He appeared to think that she +would have ample time to get well afterwards. When her mother had seen +that she was duly wrapped up, and her father had himself opened the +shutter of the study window, to avoid awakening the servants’ curiosity, +both withdrew to their own apartment, without asking further questions +of Temple. + +“Did you see anybody else, my dear?” the doctor inquired. Mrs. Sneyd was +surprised at the question. + +"Because—I did. Did you see no torch or lantern behind the palings? I am +sure there was a dark face peeping through to see what we were doing." + +A pang of horror shot through Mrs. Sneyd when she asked her husband +whether he supposed it was an Indian. O, no; only a half-savage. He +believed it to be one of the Brawnees. If so, Mrs. Sneyd could account +for the light in the forest, as well as for the maiden being so far from +home at this hour. She had marked her extreme grief at the interment the +day before, and other things previously, which gave her the idea that +Arthur’s grave had been lighted and guarded by one who would have been +only too happy to have watched over him while he lived. + +It was even so, as Mrs. Sneyd afterwards ascertained. The maiden hung +lanterns round the space occupied by the grave, every night, till all +danger was over of Arthur’s remains being interfered with. The family +could not refuse to be gratified with this mark of devotion;—except +Temple, who would have been glad if the shadows of the night had availed +to shroud his proceedings from curious eyes. + +When the gate was heard to swing on its hinges, and the tread of a horse +was again distinguishable on the soaked ground, Mrs. Sneyd thought she +might look out upon the stairs, and watch her daughter to her chamber. +But Mrs. Temple was already there. Not wishing to be asked any +questions, she had gone up softly, and as softly closed her door; so +that her parents, not choosing to disturb her, must wait till the +morning for the satisfaction of their uneasy curiosity. + + + + + --------------------- + + + CHAPTER VII. + + THE END OF THE MATTER. + + +The truth was not long in becoming known when the daylight called the +villagers abroad. Temple was gone. He had fled from his creditors, and +to escape the vengeance of the land-office for his embezzlement of funds +which had come into his hands in the transaction of its business. His +creditors might make what they could of that which he left behind; but +his mansion, shrubberies, conservatories, and ornamental furniture could +by no method be made to compensate for the property which had flown to +the moon, or somewhere else where it was as little accessible. The +estate, disposed of to the greatest possible advantage, could not be +made worth more than what was spent upon it in its present form; and the +enormous waste which had been perpetrated in wanton caprices could never +be repaired. + +Temple had spent more than his income, from the time he set foot in +America, if not before. He was only careless at first, forgetting to +provide for contingencies, and being regularly astonished, as often as +he looked into his affairs, at discovering how much his expenses had +exceeded his expectations. He next found it easier to avoid looking too +closely into his affairs than to control his passion for ostentation: +and from that moment, he trod the downward path of the spendthrift; +raising money by any means that he could devise, and trusting that fate +or something would help him before all was spent. Fate did not come in +as a helper till he could turn nothing more of his own into dollars +without the humiliation of appearing to retrench; and to submit to this +was quite out of the question. So he compelled his lady to darn and dye, +and make her old wardrobe serve; restricted her allowance for +housekeeping in all the departments that he had nothing to do with; and +betook himself to embezzlement. This served his purpose for a short +time; but, on the day of Arthur’s funeral, a stranger was observed to +have arrived in the place, without an introduction to Mr. Temple. +Temple’s unpaid labourers had lately taken the liberty of asking for +their money, and, actuated by some unknown impulse, had this evening +come up with torches through the rain, to call the gentleman to account, +and show him that they would not be trifled with any longer. It was time +to be off; and Temple waited only till the village was quiet, before he +stole to the stables, saddled his horse with his own hands, just called +to tell his wife that he could not at present say whether he should send +for her, or whether she might never see or hear from him more, and +turned his back on Briery Creek for ever. Whether his wife would choose +to go to him was a question which did not seem to occur to his mind. + +A passing traveller, looking down upon Briery Creek from the +neighbouring ridge, might perhaps ask the name of the social benefactor +who had ornamented the district with yon splendid mansion, presented the +village with a place of worship, and the shell, at least, of a +parsonage; had reclaimed those green lawns from the wild prairie, and +cleared the woodland in the rear so as to leave, conspicuous in beauty, +clumps of the noblest forest trees. Such a stranger ought not to use the +term “benefactor” till he knew whence came the means by which all this +work was wrought. If from a revenue which could supply these graces +after all needful purposes had been fulfilled, well and good. Such an +expenditure would then have been truly beneficent. It is a benignant act +to embellish God’s earth for the use and delight of man. But if there is +not revenue enough for such objects,—if they are attained by the +sacrifice of those funds on whose reproduction society depends for +subsistence, the act, from being beneficent, becomes criminal. The +mansion is built out of the maintenance of the labourer; and that which +should have been bread to the next generation is turned into barren +stone. Temple was a criminal before he committed fraud. He injured +society by exhausting its material resources, and leaving no adequate +substitute for them. If he had lavished his capital, as Dr. Sneyd laid +out his revenue, in the pursuit of science, it is very possible that, +though such an expenditure might require justification in comparison +with Dr. Sneyd’s, the good he would effect might have so superabounded +above the harm as to have made society his debtor,—(as in many a case +where philosophers have expended all their substance in perfecting a +discovery or invention,)—but Temple had done nothing like this. The +beauty of his estate, however desirable in itself, was no equivalent for +the cost of happiness through which it was produced. He had no claim to +a share of the almost unlimited credit allowed, by the common consent of +society, to its highest class of benefactors,—the explorers of +Providence. + +Arthur had done little less than Temple in the way of adorning Briery +Creek; and how differently! His smiling fields, his flocks spreading +over the prairie, his own house, and the dwellings of his labourers, +increasing in number and improving in comfort every year, were as +beautiful in the eye of a right-minded observer as the grander abode of +his brother-in-law. There were indications also of new graces which were +to arise in their proper time. The clearings were made with a view to +the future beauty of the little estate; creepers were already spreading +over the white front of the house, and no little pains had been bestowed +upon the garden. Yet, so far from any suffering by Arthur’s expenditure, +every body had been benefited. A larger fund had remained at the close +of each year for the employment of labour during the next; and if new +labourers were induced to come from a distance and settle here, it was +not that they might be kept busy and overpaid for a time, and afterwards +be left unemployed and defrauded of part of their dues, but that they +and their children after them might prosper with the prosperity of their +employer. Temple had absconded, leaving a name which would be mentioned +with either contempt or abhorrence as long as it would be mentioned at +all. Arthur had departed, surrounded with the blessings of those who +regarded him as a benefactor. He had left a legacy of substantial wealth +to the society in which he had lived, and a name which would be +perpetuated with honour. + +It was hoped that the effects of Arthur’s good deeds would long outlast +those of Temple’s evil ones. In all communities that can boast of any +considerable degree of civilization, there are many accumulators to one +spendthrift. The principle of accumulation is so strong, that it has +been perpetually found an overmatch for the extravagance of ostentatious +governments, and for the wholesale waste of war. The capital of every +tolerably governed state has been found to be gradually on the increase, +however much misery might, through mismanagement, be inflicted on +certain portions of the people. It was to be hoped that such would be +the process in Briery Creek; that the little capitals which had been +saved by the humbler residents would be more freely employed in putting +labour into action, than while the great man had been there to buy up +all that was to be had. It might be hoped that the losses of the +defrauded labourers might thus be in time repaired, and new acquisitions +made. Again:—there was now no one to interfere with the exchanges in the +markets, and thus perplex the calculations of producers, causing +deficiencies of some articles and gluts of others;—inequalities which no +foresight could guard against. Every one might now have as much fresh +meat, and as little salt, as he chose; and the general taste would +regulate the supply in the market, to the security of those who sold and +the satisfaction of those who bought. It would be well for certain +nations if those who attempt interference with commerce on a larger +scale could be as easily scared away as Temple; their dictation (in the +form of bounties and prohibitions) expiring as they withdrew. Greater, +in proportion to their greater influence in society, would be the +rejoicing at their departure, than that with which Temple’s +disappearance was hailed, when the first dismay of his poorer creditors +was overcome. + +The ease which was thus occasioned was not confined to those who had +merely a business connexion with him. No one liked to tell his notions +upon so delicate a matter; but a significant smile went round, some +months after, when it was remarked how uncommonly well Mrs. Temple was +looking, and how gracious she had become, and what a different kind of +boy Temmy now promised to be from any thing that was expected of him +formerly. The air of the farm was pronounced to be a fine thing for them +both. + +Yes; the farm,—Arthur’s farm. The estate was of course left to his +family; and it was the most obvious thing in the world that Mrs. Temple +should establish herself in it, and superintend its management, with +Isaac and his wife to assist her, till Temmy should be old and wise +enough to take it into his own charge. The lady herself proposed this +plan; and it was a fortunate thing that she had always been fond of a +dairy and poultry yard, and of a country life altogether. The pride +which had chilled all who came near her during “the winter of her +discontent,” gradually thawed under the genial influence of freedom and +ease. Her parents once more recognized in her the Louisa Sneyd who had +been so long lost to them, and every body but the Hesseldens thought her +so improved that she could not have been known for the same person;—even +as to beauty,—so much brighter did she look carrying up a present of +eggs and cream-cheese to her mother, in the early morning, than +sauntering through the heat from her carriage, entrenched behind her +parasol, with the liveried servant at her heels, burdened with her +pocket-handkerchief and a pine-apple for the doctor’s eating. + +She was never afraid of being too early at her father’s. Dr. Sneyd was +as fond of country occupations as she; and when he had not been in his +observatory for half the night, might be found at sunrise digging or +planting in his garden. His grievous loss had not destroyed his +energies; it had rather stimulated them, by attaching him for the short +remainder of his days to the place of his present abode. He had +gradually relaxed in his desire to see England again, and had now +relinquished the idea entirely,—not through indolence, or because the +circle of his old friends at home was no longer complete, but +because,—free from superstition as he was,—his son being buried there +attached him to the place. Here he, and his wife, and their daughter, +and grandchild, could speak of Arthur more frequently, more easily, more +happily, than they could ever learn to do elsewhere. They could carry +forward his designs, work in his stead, and feel, act, and talk as if he +were still one of them. Not only did they thus happily regard him in the +broad sunshine, when amidst the lively hum of voices from the village +they were apt to fancy that they could distinguish his; but, in the dead +of night, when the doctor was alone in his observatory, or sometimes +assisted by Mrs. Sneyd, (who had taken pains to qualify herself thus +late to aid her husband,) bright thoughts of the departed would +accompany the planets in their courses, and hopes were in attendance +which did not vanish with the morning light, or grow dark in the evening +shade. The large telescope was not, for some time, of the use that was +expected, for want of such an assistant as Arthur. A sigh would +occasionally escape from Dr. Sneyd when he felt how Arthur would have +enjoyed a newly-made discovery,—how he might have suggested the means of +removing a difficulty. Then a smile would succeed at the bare +imagination of how much greater things might be revealed in Arthur’s new +sphere of habitation; and at the conviction that the progress of God’s +truth can never be hurtfully delayed, whether its individual agents are +left to work here, or removed to a different destination elsewhere. + +Hopes, different in kind, but precious in their way, rested now on +Temmy,—soon to be called by the less undignified name of Temple. The boy +had brightened, in intellect and in spirits, from the hour that he began +to surmount his agitation at the idea of being some day sole master of +the farm. There was something tangible in farm-learning, which he felt +he could master when there was no one to rebuke and ridicule almost +every thing he attempted; and in this department he had a model before +him on which his attention was for ever fixed. Uncle Arthur was the plea +for every new thing he proposed to attempt; and, by dint of incessant +recourse to it, he attempted many things which he would not otherwise +have dreamed of. Among other visions for the future, he saw himself +holding the pen in the observatory, _sans peur et sans reproche_. + +He was some time in learning to attend to two things at once; and all +his merits and demerits might safely be discussed within a yard of his +ear, while he was buried in mathematics or wielding his pencil; which he +always contrived to do at odd moments. + +“What is he about now?” was the question that passed between the trio +who were observing him, one evening, when he had been silent some time, +and appeared to be lightly sketching on a scrap of paper which lay +before him. + +“Ephraim’s cabin, I dare say,” observed his mother. “We are to have a +frolic in a few days, to raise a cabin for Ephraim, who has worked +wonderfully hard in the prospect of having a dwelling of his own. It is +Temple’s affair altogether; and I know his head has been full of it for +days past. He wishes that Ephraim’s cabin should be second to none on +the estate.” + +“Let us see what he will make of it,” said the doctor, putting on his +spectacles, and stepping softly behind Temple. He looked on, over the +youth’s shoulder, for a few minutes, with a quiet smile, and then +beckoned his wife. + +This second movement Temple observed. He looked up hastily. + +“Very like my dear boy! It is very like. It is something worth living +for, Temple, to be so remembered.” + +"So remembered as this, Sir! It is so easy to copy the face, the——”" + +“The outward man? It is a great pleasure to us that you find it so; but +it gives us infinitely more to see that you can copy after a better +manner still. We can see a likeness there too, Temple.” + +Having illustrated the leading principles which regulate the PRODUCTION, +DISTRIBUTION, and EXCHANGE of Wealth, we proceed to consider the laws of +its CONSUMPTION. + +Of these four operations, the three first are means to the attainment of +the last as an end. + +Consumption by individuals is the subject before us. Government +consumption will be treated of hereafter. + +_Summary of Principles illustrated in this volume._ + +Consumption is of two kinds, productive and unproductive. + +The object of the one is the restoration, with increase, in some new +form, of that which is consumed. The object of the other is the +enjoyment of some good through the sacrifice of that which is consumed. + +That which is consumed productively is capital, reappearing for future +use. That which is consumed unproductively ceases to be capital, or any +thing else. It is wholly lost. + +Such loss is desirable or the contrary in proportion as the happiness +resulting from the sacrifice exceeds or falls short of the happiness +belonging to the continued possession of the consumable commodity. + +The total of what is produced is called the gross produce. + +That which remains, after replacing the capital consumed, is called the +net produce. + +While a man produces only that which he himself consumes, there is no +demand and supply. + +If a man produces more of one thing than he consumes, it is for the sake +of obtaining something which another man produces, over and above what +he consumes. + +Each brings the two requisites of a demand; viz., the wish for a supply, +and a commodity wherewith to obtain it. + +This commodity, which is the instrument of demand, is, at the same time, +the instrument of supply. + +Though the respective commodities of no two producers may be exactly +suitable to their respective wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, as +every man’s instrument of demand and supply is identical, the aggregate +demand of society must be precisely equal to its supply. + +In other words, a general glut is impossible. + +A partial glut is an evil which induces its own remedy; and the more +quickly, the greater the evil; since, the aggregate demand and supply +being always equal, a superabundance of one commodity testifies to the +deficiency of another; and, all exchangers being anxious to exchange the +deficient article for that which is superabundant, the production of the +former will be quickened, and that of the latter slackened. + +A new creation of capital, employed in the production of the deficient +commodity, may thus remedy a glut. + +A new creation of capital is always a benefit to society, by +constituting a new demand. + +It follows that an unproductive consumption of capital is an injury to +society, by contracting the demand. In other words, an expenditure which +avoidably exceeds the revenue is a social crime. + +All interference which perplexes the calculations of producers, and thus +causes the danger of a glut, is also a social crime. + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES, + Stamford Street. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + THE THREE AGES. + + + --------------------- + + + FIRST AGE. + + +One fine summer day, about three hundred and ten years ago, all +Whitehall was astir with the throngs who were hastening to see my Lord +Cardinal set forth from the episcopal palace for the Parliament House. +The attendants of the great man had been collected for some time,—the +bearers of the silver crosses, of the glittering pillars, and of the +gilt mace, those who shouldered the pole-axes, the running footmen, and +the grooms who held the well-clothed mules. The servants of the palace +stood round, and there came among them a troop of gentlemen in foreign +costume, whose country could not be divined from their complexions, +since each wore a mask, rarely painted wherever left uncovered by a +beard made of gold or silver wire. When my Lord Cardinal came forth, +glowing in scarlet damask, and towering above everybody else by the +height of the pillion and black velvet noble which he carried on his +head, these strangers hastened to range themselves round the mule, +(little less disguised than they,) and to offer a homage which savoured +of mockery nearly as strongly as that of casual passengers, who had good +reason for beholding with impatience the ostentatious triumphs of the +“butcher’s dog,” as an angry man had been heard to call my Lord +Cardinal. Wolsey made a sudden halt, and his goodly shoe, blazing with +gems, met the ground less tenderly than was its wont, as its wearer +stopped to cast a keen glance upon the strangers. He removed from +beneath his nose the orange peel filled with confections which might +defy the taint of the common people, and handed it to a page, with a +motion which signified that he perceived how an atmosphere awaited him +which he need not fear to breathe. There was then a general pause. + +“Pleaseth it your Grace,” said one of the strangers, “there are certain +in Blackfriars that await your Grace’s passage and arrival, to prosper a +light affair, in which your Grace’s countenance will be comfortable to +them. Will it please you to spare them further perplexity of delay?” + +The Cardinal bowed low to the speaker, mounted his mule in all +solemnity, and in a low voice asked for the honour of the stranger’s +latest commands to his obedient parliament. + +“Commend us heartily to them, and see that they be readily obedient. We +commend them to your Grace’s tuition and governance. We will be +advertised of their answer at a certain fair house at Chelsea, where we +shall divert ourselves till sunset. Pray heaven your Grace may meet as +good diversion in Blackfriars!” + +The strangers renewed their obeisances, and drew back to allow the +Cardinal’s stately retinue to form and proceed. The crowd of gazers +moved on with the procession, and left but few to observe the motions of +the strangers when the last scarlet drapery had fluttered, and the last +gold mace had gleamed on the sight. He who seemed the leader of the +foreigners then turned from the gate of the episcopal palace, followed +by his companions. All mounted mules which awaited them at some +distance, and proceeded in the direction of Chelsea. + +They saw many things on the way with which they might make merry. Pale, +half-naked men were employed along the whole length of road in heaping +up wood for bonfires, as the people had been told that it pleased the +King’s Highness that they should rejoice for a mighty success over the +French. There was something very diverting, it was found, in the economy +of one who reserved a clean bit of board to be sawn into dust to eke out +the substance of his children’s bread; and nothing could be more amusing +than the coolness with which another pulled up the fence of his little +field, that the wood might go to the bonfire, and the scanty produce of +the soil to any wandering beggar who chose to take it, the owner having +spent his all in supporting this war, and being now about to become a +wandering beggar himself. He was complimented on his good cheer, when he +said that the king’s asses were welcome to the thistles of his field, +and the king’s pages to adorn themselves with the roses of his garden, +since the king himself had levied as tribute the corn of the one and the +fruits of the other. There was also much jesting with a damsel who +seemed nothing loth to part with her child, when they offered playfully +to steal it to be brought up for the wars. She thought the boy might +thus perchance find his father, since he owed his birth to one who had +promised the woman to get her father released from the prison where he +pined because he was unable to pay his share of the Benevolence by which +the King’s wars were to be carried on. She would give her son in +exchange for her father, in hopes of forgetting her anger and her shame. +The child was cast back into her arms with the assurance that when he +was strong enough to wield his weapon, the King’s Highness would call +for him. The next diverting passage was the meeting with a company of +nuns, on their way from their despoiled convent to find a hiding-place +in London. There was some exercise of wit in divining, while the maidens +kept their veils before their faces, which of them were under four-and- +twenty, and might therefore be toyed with, according to the royal +proclamation, that all below that age were released from their vows. +When the veils were pulled aside, there was loud laughter at the +trembling of some of the women, and the useless rage of others, and at +the solemn gravity of the youngest and prettiest of them all, who was +reproved by her superior for putting on a bold, undismayed face when so +many older and wiser sisters were brought to their wits’ end. Nothing +could be made of her, and she was therefore the first to be forgotten +when new matter of sport appeared. A friar, fatter than he seemed likely +to be in future, was seen toiling along the road under a loaded basket, +which the frolickers were certain must contain something good, from its +being in the custody of a man of God. They got round him, so enclosing +him with their beasts that he could not escape, and requested to be +favoured with the sight and scent of the savoury matters which his +basket doubtless contained, and for which they hungered and thirsted, +since they had seen none but meagre fare in the houses they had +passed:—little better than coarse bread had met their eyes since their +own morning meal. The friar was not unwilling to display his treasures, +(although unsavoury,) in the hope of a parting gift: so the eyes of the +stranger were regaled with the parings of St. Edmund’s toes,—the most +fastidious of saints in respect of his feet, to judge from the quantity +of such parings as one and another of the present company had seen since +there had been a stir among the monasteries. There were two of the coals +which had roasted St. Lawrence—now cool enough to be safely handled. A +head of St. Ursula,—very like a whale,—but undoubtedly a head of St. +Ursula, because it was a perfect preventive of weeds in corn. The friar +was recommended to bestow it upon the poor man who had been seen pulling +up the fence of his barren field; but the leader of the party could not +spare the friar at present. The holy man did not know his own age, for +certain. He must,—all the party would take their oath of it,—be under +four-and-twenty, and his merriment would match admirably with the +gravity of the young nun who had just passed. Two of the revellers were +sent back to catch, and bring her with all speed to Chelsea, where she +should be married to the friar before the day was over; the King’s +Highness being pleased to give her a dower. The friar affected to enjoy +this as a jest, and sent a message to the damsel while inwardly planning +how to escape from the party before they should reach Chelsea. + +His planning was in vain. He was ordered to ride behind one of the +revellers, and his precious burden of relics was committed to the charge +of another, and some of the mocking eyes of the party were for ever +fixed on the holy man, insomuch that he did not dare to slip down and +attempt to escape; and far too soon for him appeared the low, rambling +house, its expanse of roof alive with pert pigeons, its garden alleys +stretching down to the Thames, and its porch and gates guarded with +rare, grim-looking stuffed quadrupeds placed in attitudes,—very unlike +the living animals which might be seen moving at their pleasure in the +meadow beyond. + +On the approach of the party, one female face after another appeared at +the porch, vanished and reappeared, till an elderly lady came forth, +laden with fruit, from a close alley, and served as a centre, round +which rallied three or four comely young women, a middle-aged gentleman +who was the husband of one of them, and not a few children. The elder +dame smoothed a brow which was evidently too apt to be ruffled, put into +her manner such little courtesy as she could attain, and having seen +that servants enough were in attendance to relieve her guests of their +mules, offered the King’s Majesty the choice of the garden or the cooler +house, while a humble repast was in course of preparation. + +The attendant gentlemen liked the look of the garden, and the thought of +straying through its green walks, or sitting by the water’s edge in +company with the graceful and lively daughters of Sir Thomas More; but +Henry chose to rest in the house, and it was necessary for some of his +followers to remain beside him. While some, therefore, made their +escape, and amused themselves with finding similitudes for one young +lady in the swan which floated in a square pond, and in sprinkling +another with drops from the fountain which rained coolness over the +circular grass-plat, others were called upon to follow the King from the +vestibule, which looked like the antechamber to Noah’s ark, and the +gallery where the promising young artist, Holbein, had hung two or three +portraits, to the study,—the large and airy study,—strewed with fresh +rushes and ornamented with books, manuscripts, maps, viols, virginals, +and other musical instruments, and sundry specimens of ladies’ works. + +“Marry,” said the King, looking round him, “there are no needs here of +the lackery of my Lord Cardinal’s and other palaces. These maps and +perspectives are as goodly as any cloth of gold at Hampton, or any cloth +of bodkin at York House. Right fair ladies, this holy friar shall +discourse to us, if you are so minded, of the things here figured +forth.” + +The ladies had been accustomed to hear a holy man (though not a friar) +discourse of things which were not dreamed of in every one’s philosophy; +but they respectfully waited for further light from the friar, who now +stepped forward to explain how no map could be made complete, because +the end of the land and sea, where there was a precipice at its edge, +overhanging hell, was shrouded with a dark mist. He found, with +astonishing readiness, the country of the infidels, and, the very place +of the sepulchre, and the land where recent travellers had met with the +breed of asses derived from the beast which carried Christ into +Jerusalem. These were known from the common ass from having, not only +Christ’s common mark,—the cross,—but the marks of his stripes; and from +the race suffering no one to ride them but a stray saint whom they might +meet wayfaring. Many more such treasures of natural science did he lay +open to his hearers with much fluency, as long as uninterrupted; but +when the young ladies, as was their wont when discoursing on matters of +science with their father or their tutor, made their inquiries in the +Latin tongue, the friar lost his eloquence, and speedily substituted +topics of theology; the only matter of which he could treat in Latin. +This was not much to Henry’s taste. He could at any time hear all the +theology he chose treated of by the first masters in his kingdom; but it +was not every day that graceful young creatures, as witty as they were +wise, were at hand to amuse his leisure with true tales,—not “of men +whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders,” but of things quite as +unknown to his experience, and far more beautiful to his fancy. It was a +pity that Mr. Roper, the husband of the eldest of these young ladies, +was present, as it prevented the guests putting all the perplexing +questions which might otherwise have occurred to them. + +By the time the house had resounded with music, and the King had found +his way up to the roof of the house,—where he had more than once amused +himself with star-gazing, in the company of his trusty and well-beloved, +the honourable Speaker, his host,—dinner was announced. + +The dame had bustled about to so much purpose, that the service of +pewter made a grand display, the board was amply spread, and the King’s +Highness was not called upon to content himself with the homely fare of +a farm-house, as he had been assured he must. There was a pudding which +marvellously pleased the royal palate; and Henry would know whose +ingenuity had devised the rare mixture of ingredients. + +“If it like your Grace,” replied the lady, "the honour must be parted +between me and Margaret, now sitting at your Grace’s right hand. The +matter was put in a good train by me, in every material point; but as +touching the more cunning and delicate—" + +“Mine own good mistress Margaret,” interrupted Henry, “we are minded to +distinguish the great pain and discretion that you have towardly +exercised on this matter; and for a recompense, we appoint you the +monies of the next monastery that we shall require to surrender. The +only grace we ask is that we may appoint the marriage of the monks who +shall owe their liberty to us. Please it you, holy father, to advertise +us of a sumptuous monastery that may be most easily discharged?” + +“I beseech your Grace to remember that what the regal power may +overthrow, the papal power will rectify. Any damageable proceedings may +bring on the head of your Highness’s servants a grievous punishment.” + +“From Servus Servorum?” said the King, laughing. “Let him come to the +succour of the monks of Beggam, when they ring their abbey bell, and +carry away the sums in their treasury from the hands of Mistress +Margaret, to whom we appoint them. Nay, Mistress Margaret, I desire you +as lovingly to take this largesse as I do mean it; and ensure yourself +that that was ill-gotten which is now well-bestowed.” + +The friar probably wished to be dismissed from the King’s presence +before his destined bride should arrive; for he muttered that dogs and +base poisoners, who have their chiefest hope in this world, were ever +ready to speak unfitting and slanderous words against those whom the +holy Trinity held fast in his preservation. The naughty friar received, +not an order to go about his business for supposing that Henry was +deceived, but a box on the ear from the dignified hands of the monarch, +and a promise that he should try the Little Ease in the Tower, if he did +not constrain his contumacious tongue in the King’s presence. A dead +silence followed this rebuff,—partly caused by dismay at the King’s +levity about popish matters, and partly by sorrow that he should +wantonly increase the enmity which was known to be borne to him by the +monks and friars in his dominions. The only way of restoring the +banished mirth was to call in one who stood without,—the facetious +natural who was wont to season Henry’s repasts with his jests. + +As the jester entered, a royal messenger was seen standing outside, as +if anxious to deliver the letter he had in charge; and, unfitting as +seemed the time, it was presently in the hands of Henry. Its contents +seemed to leave him in no humour for feast or jest; and he had given no +further signal for mirth when his entirely beloved counsellor, the +Cardinal, and his trusty and honourable Speaker arrived,—the one to glow +and glitter in his costly apparel, and feast off “plump fesaunts,” and +the other to resume the homely guise he loved best, and refresh himself +with fruits and water. + +“Marry, my Lords,” cried the King, when they were seated, one on each +side of him, “if the Lower House be not mindful of our needs, our sister +of Scotland may satisfy herself for her jewels as she may. She is +ashamed therewith; and would God there had never been word of the +legacy, as the jewels are worth less to her than our estimation.” + +“Says the Queen of Scotland so much?” inquired the Cardinal. + +“Satisfy yourself how much more,” replied the King, handing to Wolsey +the angry letter in which Margaret of Scotland expressed her contempt +for the withholding of her father’s legacy of jewels. + +“Please your Highness, there are matters of other necessity than a +perplexed woman’s letter,” observed the Cardinal, with a freedom of +speech which was not now displeasing to his master. + +“Another wager lost by the Princess’s governante in her Highness’ name? +Let us divert ourself with the inventory, my Lord Cardinal, while you +refresh yourself in a more hearty wise than our trusty host.” + +Wolsey was impatient to consult upon the measures necessary to be taken +to follow up the extorted resolution of the House to furnish supplies to +the King’s needs: but Henry was in a mood for trifling, and he would +examine for himself the list of requests from the steward of the +Princess’s household; a list regularly addressed to the Cardinal, who +chose to superintend the details of all the management that he could get +into his own hands. Passing his arm round More’s neck, the King jested +upon the items in the letter,—the ship of silver for the alms-dish, the +spice plates, the disguisings for an interlude at a banquet, the +trumpets for the minstrels, and a bow and quiver for his lady’s Grace. +There was an earnest beseeching for a Lord of Misrule for the honourable +household, and for a rebeck to be added to the band. A fair steel glass +from Venice was desired, and a pair of hose wrought in silk and gold +from Flanders. There was an account of a little money paid for “Mr. John +poticary” coming to see my lady sick, and a great deal for a pound and a +half of gold for embroidering a night-gown. Something was paid for a +frontlet lost in a wager with my little lady Jane; and something more +for the shaving of her Grace’s fool’s head; and, again, for binding +prentice the son of a servant, and for Christopher, the surgeon, letting +her lady’s Grace blood; and again for a wrought carnation satin for the +favoured lady’s maid. + +“I marvel, my Lord Cardinal,” said the King, “that your Grace can take +advice of the ordering of the Princess’s spice plates, and leave your +master to be sorely perplexed with the grooms and the yeomen and pages, +and those that bring complaints from the buttery, and the wardrobe of +beds, and the chaundery, and the stables, till my very life is worn with +tales of the mighty wants and debts of the household.” + +“If it like your Grace, my most curious inquisition hath of late been +into the particulars of the royal household; and my latest enemies are +divers grooms, yeomen, and pages, whom I have compelled to perform their +bounden service to your Majesty, or to surrender it.” + +The Speaker conceived that the charge of his own household would be +enough for the Cardinal, if he were made as other men; but as the King’s +was added, that of the Princess might reasonably devolve upon some less +occupied—— + +“Upon yourself?” inquired the King. “Marry, if you were to appoint your +spare diet of fruit for the Princess, Mistress Margaret should add to it +such a pudding as I have to-day tasted. What say you, Mistress +Margaret?” he continued, calling back the ladies who were modestly +retiring, on finding the conversation turning upon matters of state. + +“My Margaret has no frontlets to lose in betting,” observed Sir Thomas +More. “But your Grace knows that there are many who have more leisure +for ordering the Princess’s household than your poor councillor. There +are divers in your good city of London who can tell whether the silver +ship for the alms-dish will not carry away the alms; and we have passed +some by the wayside to-day who would see somewhat miraculous in these +Venetian mirrors, not knowing their own faces therein.” + +“These are not mirrors whose quality it is to make faces seem long, or, +certes, we ourself would use one,” said the King. + +“Long faces might sometimes be seen without glasses,” Sir Thomas More +quietly replied. + +“As for shaven fools’ heads,” observed the King, looking at the friar, +“there is no need to go to the Princess’s household to divert ourselves +with that spectacle. We will beseech our released monks, who must needs +lack occupation, to watch over their brethren of our household in this +particular.” + +Sir Thomas More requested the friar to pronounce the thanksgiving over +the board, (as the Cardinal had at length finished his meal,) and to +instruct the women in certain holy matters, while the King’s Highness +should receive account of the passages of the morning. + +Henry looked from the one to the other to know what had been their +success in raising money from his faithful Commons. The Cardinal opened +to him his plans for securing assent to the levy of an enormous +benevolence. Wolsey himself had never been more apt, more subtle, more +busy, than in his devices on this occasion. He had found errands in +remote parts for most whose obstinacy was to be feared. He had ordered +down to the House all the King’s servants who had a vote there: had +discharged easily of their sins many who were wavering in the matter of +the subsidy; and had made as imposing an appearance as possible on going +to Blackfriars to “reason” with the members who believed that the people +could not pay the money. And what was the result? + +“Please it your Grace to understand that there hath been the greatest +and sorest hold in the House that ever was seen, I think, in any +Parliament. There was such a hold that the House was like to be +dissevered, but that the Speaker did mediate graciously between your +Highness and the greedy Jews that bearded me.” + +“Mediate, I trow! And why not command, as beseems the Speaker?” cried +the King, glancing angrily on More. + +“In his bearing the Speaker is meek,” observed Wolsey, with some malice +in his tone. “His words were dutiful, and the lowness of his obeisance +an ensample to the whole Parliament.” + +“And what were his acts?” + +“He informed me that the Commons are not wont to be reasoned with by +strangers, and that the splendour of my poor countenance must needs +bewilder their deliberations.” + +“So be it. We have deliberated too long and too deeply for our royal +satisfaction on the matter of filling our coffers. We expect our Commons +to fill them without deliberation. Wherefore this repining and delay?” +asked Henry of More. + +"Because your Grace’s true servants would that this vast sum should be +well and peaceably levied, without grudge——" + +“We trouble not ourself about the grudge, if it be surely paid,” +interrupted Henry. + +“We would that your Grace should not lose the true hearts of your +subjects, which we reckon a greater treasure than gold and silver,” +replied the Speaker. + +“And why lose their hearts? Do they think that no man is to fare well, +and be well clothed but themselves?” + +“That is the question they have this morning asked of the Lord +Cardinal,” replied More, “when my Lord discoursed to them of the wealth +of the nation, as if it were a reason why they should make such a grant +as your Majesty’s ancestors never heard of. One said that my lord had +seen something of the wealth of the nation, in the form of a beautiful +welcoming of your Majesty; but of the nation’s poverty, it is like the +Lord Cardinal has seen less than he may see, if the benevolence is +finally extorted.” + +“And who is this one that beards my Lord Cardinal?” + +“The one who spoke of the nation’s poverty is one who hath but too much +cause to do so from what his own eyes have seen within his own +household. He is one Richard Read, an honourable alderman of London, +once wealthy, but now, as I said, entitled, through his service to your +Majesty, to discourse of poverty.” + +“Marry, I would that he would discourse of our poverty as soothly as of +his own. Has he been bearded by France? Is he looking for an invasion +from Scotland? Has he relations with his Holiness, and enterprizes of +war to conduct?” + +“Such were the questions of my Lord Cardinal. He seems to be fully +possessed of your Grace’s mind.” + +“And what was the answer?” + +“That neither had the late King left to him in legacy nearly two +millions of pounds. Neither had he levied a benevolence last year, nor +borrowed twenty thousand pounds of the city of London. If he had, there +might not now perhaps have been occasion for alleging such high +necessity on the King’s part, nor for such high poverty expressed, not +only by the commoners, citizens, and burgesses, but by knights, +esquires, and gentlemen of every quarter.” + +“And the Lord Cardinal did not allow such argument of poverty. How did +he rebuke the traitor for his foul sayings?” + +“If it like your Grace, this Richard Read was once this day ordered to +be committed to prison, but he is still abroad. He regards himself and +his family as despoiled by never having rest from payments; and he cares +not greatly what he does. This is also the condition of so many that it +would not be safe to offer vengeance till the cuckoo time and hot +weather (at which time mad brains are most wont to be busy) shall be +overpassed.” + +The King rose in great disturbance, and demanded of Wolsey why he had +not sent to a distance all who were likely to dispute the subsidy he +desired. Wolsey coolly assured him that this was an easier thing to +speak of than to do, as there were but too large a number who desired +that no more conquests should be sought in France, urging that the +winning thereof would be more chargeful than profitable, and the keeping +more chargeful than the winning. Audacious dogs were these, the Cardinal +declared; but it must be wary whipping till some could be prevented from +flying at the throat, while another was under the lash. But the day +should come when those who ought to think themselves only too much +honoured in being allowed to supply the King’s needs, should leave off +impertinently speculating on the infinite sums which they said had been +already expended in the invading of France, out of which nothing had +prevailed in comparison with the costs. If his Majesty would but turn +over his vengeance to his poor councillor, the pernicious knaves should +be made to repent. + +“Of the salt tears they have shed, only for doubt how to find money to +content the King’s Highness?” inquired More. + +“Their tears shall hiss hot upon their cheeks in the fire of my +vengeance,” cried the King. “Send this traitor Read to prison, that he +may answer for his words. If he keeps his head, he shall come out with +such a hole in his tongue as shall make him for ever glad to keep it +within his teeth.” + +The Cardinal endeavoured to divert the King’s rage. He was as willing as +his royal master that this honest alderman Read should suffer for his +opposition to the exactions of the Government; but he knew that to send +one murmurer to prison at this crisis would be to urge on to rebellion +thousands of the higher orders, to head the insurrections which were +already beginning in the eastern counties. He now hastened to assure +Henry that there had not been wanting some few men besides himself to +rebuke the stupidity of those who complained of the impoverishment of +the nation, and to explain that that which was given to the King for his +needs was returned by the King in the very supplying of those needs. + +“After there had been much discourse,” said he, “of what straits the +nation would be in if every man had to pay away his money, and how the +whole frame and intercourse of things would be altered if tenants paid +their landlords in corn and cattle, so that the landlords would have but +little coin left for traffic, so that the nation itself, for want of +money, must grow in a sort barbarous and ignoble, it was answered that +the money was only transferred into the hands of others of the same +nation, as in a vast market where, though the coin never lies still, all +are accommodated.” + +“I will use despatch,” observed More, “to write this comforting news to +a cousin-german of mine, who is in sore distress because some rogues +have despoiled him of a store of angels that he had kept for his +daughter’s dower. I will assure him that there can be no impoverishment +in his case.” + +Wolsey had not finished his speech. He had something still to say about +how much more precious was the wealth which descended from the throne in +streams of royal bounty and custom than when it went up from the rude +hands of his unworthy subjects. His Majesty only accepted for a time, in +order to return what he had received, embalmed with his grace, and +rendered meet to be handled with reverential ecstacy. + +“Further good tidings for my cousin-german,” observed More. "If the +money which has been taken from him be spent in purchasing his corn and +cattle, he has nothing to complain of. His injury is repaired, and his +daughters are dowered. O rare reparation,—when the gentleman is no +worse, and the rogues are the better by the corn and cattle!" + +“At this rate, O rare philosopher!” said Henry, “the way to make men +rich is to rob them; and to tax a people is to give them wealth. We have +wit, friend, to spy out jest from earnest. But who reports of these salt +tears?” + +“Does not every report from the eastern counties savour of them?” +inquired More. “And in the west a like pernicious rheum distils in the +cold wind of poverty. And so it is in the north and south, though this +be the cuckoo time, and the season of hot weather.” + +“It is the Parliament, your Grace may be assured,” interrupted the +Cardinal,—“it is your right trusty Lower House that devises sad tales of +salt tears to move such pitiful hearts as that of the Honourable +Speaker. If your Grace had seen how enviously they looked upon my poor +train, as we entered Blackfriars, and how they stood peevishly mute in +the House, each one like your Highness’s natural under disfavour, your +Grace would marvel that the tales are not of tears of blood.” + +“Patience!” said More. “The next east wind will bring such rumours as +you speak of. They are already abroad.” + +“The Parliament shall not puff them in our face,” cried Henry. “On our +conscience, we have borne with our faithless Commons too long. They +shall have another seven years to spy out the poverty that is above +them, while we will not listen to their impertinent tales of that which +is below. My Lord Cardinal, let them be dispersed for seven years.” + +“And then,” observed More, "they will have time to learn what your +Majesty’s wisdom already discerns,—how much more fatal is poverty in +high places than in low. The contemptible handicraftsman can, while +consuming his scanty food of to-day, produce the scanty food of to- +morrow; while the gallants of your Grace’s court,—right noble gentlemen +as they are,—must beg of the low artizan to repair to-morrow that which +they magnificently consume to-day." + +“My nobles are not beggars,” cried the King. “They pay for their pomp.” + +"Most true. And their gold is right carefully cleansed from the rust of +salt tears, which else might blister their delicate fingers. But were it +not better for them to take their largess from the people in corn and +meat and wine at once,—since the coin which they handle hath been +already touched by the owner of land who has taken it as rent, or, worse +still, by the merchant as his gains, or, worst of all, by the labourer +as his hire?" + +Wolsey assured the Speaker that his suggestion would soon be acted upon. +The people were so shy of making payments from their rent, their +profits, and their wages, that it would be necessary to take for the +King’s service the field of the landowner, the stock of the merchant, +and—— + +“And what next? For then there will be left no hire for the labourer.” + +The Cardinal grew suddenly oracular about the vicissitudes of human +affairs, and the presumption of looking into futurity. The Speaker bowed +low under the holy man’s discourse, and the King was reassured. + +“I marvel that your wit does not devise some pastimes that may disperse +the ill-blood of the people,” said Henry. “Dull homes cloud men’s minds +with vapours; and your Grace is full strict with them in respect of +shows and outward apparel. My gallants have not ceased their jests on +the aged man from whom your Grace’s own hands stripped the crimson +jacket decked with gauds. And there is talk of many pillories being +wanted for men who have worn shirts of a finer texture than suits your +Grace’s pleasure.” + +“Is there not amusement enough for the people,” asked More, "in gazing +at the Lord Cardinal’s train? For my part, I know not elsewhere of so +fine a pageant. If they must have more, the legate is coming, and who +has measured the scarlet cloth which is sent over to Calais to clothe +Campeggio’s train? This will set the people agape for many days,—if they +can so spy out my Lord Cardinal’s will about their apparel as to dare to +come forth into the highway." + +The King thought the pleasure of beholding a pageant did not last long +enough effectually to quiet the popular discontents. He wished that +fields could be opened for the sports of the young men, and that +companies of strolling mummers could be supported at the royal expense. +His miraculous bounty and benignity were extolled so that it was a pity +the people themselves were not by to say Amen; but it was feared the +said people must take the will for the deed, as, in the present +condition of the exchequer, it was impossible to afford the +appropriation of the ground, the outlay upon it to render it fit for the +proposed objects, or the annual expense of keeping it up. The people +must remain subject to blue devils, and liable to rebellion, till the +Scots were beaten off, and the French vanquished; till the Pope had done +with Henry, and the court had been gratified with a rare new masque, for +which an extraordinary quantity of cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, +and cloth of taffety, and cloth of bodkin, would be necessary; to say +nothing of the forty-four varieties of jewelled copes of the richest +materials which had been ordered for the chaplains and cunning singing- +men of the royal chapel. The king’s dignity must be maintained;—a truth +in which More fully agreed. What kingly dignity is, he was wont to +settle while pacing one of the pleached alleys of his garden as the sun +was going down in state, presenting daily a gorgeous spectacle which +neither Wolsey nor Campeggio could rival, and which would have been +better worth the admiration of the populace if their eyes had not been +dimmed by hunger, and their spirits jarred by tyranny into a dissonance +with nature. More was wont to ridicule himself as a puppet when decked +out with his official trappings; and he was apt to fancy that such holy +men as the future Defender of the Faith and the anointed Cardinal must +have somewhat of the same notions of dignity as himself.—There were also +seasons when he remembered that there were other purposes of public +expenditure besides the maintenance of the outward state of the +sovereign. His daughters and he had strengthened one another in the +notion that the public money ought to be laid out in the purchase of +some public benefit; and that it would not be unpardonable in the nation +to look even beyond the DEFENCE of their territory, and ask for an ample +administration of JUSTICE, a liberal provision for PUBLIC WORKS, and +perhaps, in some wiser age, an extensive apparatus of NATIONAL +EDUCATION. He was wont to look cheerfully to the good Providence of God +in matters where he could do nothing; but he was far from satisfied that +the enormous sums squandered in damaging the French availed anything for +the defence of the English; or that those who most needed justice were +the most likely to obtain it, as long as it must be sought with a +present in the hand which was not likely to be out-bid; or that the +itinerant justice-mongers of his day were of much advantage to the +people, as long as their profits and their credit in high quarters +depended on the amount they delivered in as amercements of the guilty. +He was not at all sure that the peasant who had done his best to satisfy +the tax-gatherer was the more secure against the loss of what remained +of his property, whenever a strong oppressor should choose to wrest it +from him. He could see nothing done in the way of public works by which +the bulk of the tax-payers might be benefited. Indeed, public +possessions of this kind were deteriorating even faster, if possible, +than private property; and the few rich commoners, here and there, who +dreaded competition in their sales of produce, might lay aside their +fears for the present. Competition was effectually checked, not only by +the diminution of capital, but by the decay of roads and bridges which +there were no funds to repair. As for education, the only chance was +that the people might gain somewhat by the insults offered to the +Church. The unroofed monks might carry some slight scent of the odour of +learning from the dismantled shrines; but otherwise it seemed designed +that the people’s acquaintance with polite learning should be confined +to two points which were indeed very strenuously taught,—the King’s +supremacy and the Cardinal’s infallibility. + +More was not much given to reverie. While others were discoursing, his +ready wit seldom failed to interpose to illustrate and vivify what was +said. His low, distinct utterance made itself heard amidst the laughter +or the angry voices which would have drowned the words of almost any one +else; and the aptness of his speech made him as eagerly sought in the +royal circle as sighed for by his own family, when he was not at hand to +direct and enlighten their studies in their modest book-chamber. He was +much given to thought in his little journeys to and from town, and in +his leisure hours of river-gazing, and star-exploring; but he seldom +indulged his meditations in company. Now, however, while Henry and +Wolsey laid their scheme for swearing every man of the King’s subjects +to his property, and taxing him accordingly,—not only without the +assistance of Parliament, but while the Commons were dispersed for seven +years,—More was speculating within himself on the subject of kingly +dignity. + +“One sort of dignity,” thought he, "consists with the purposes of him +who regards his people as his servants, and another with the wishes of +him who regards himself as the servant of his people. As for the +monarchs who live in times when the struggle is which party shall be a +slave, God’s mercy be on them and their people! Their throne moves, like +an idol’s car, over the bones of those who have worshipped or defied +their state; and they have fiends to act as mummers in their pageants, +and defiled armour for their masques, and much dolorous howling in the +place of a band of minstrels. In such days the people pay no tax, +because the monarch has only to stretch forth his hand and take. It is a +better age when the mummers are really merry, and minstrels make music +that gladdens the heart like wine; and gaudy shows make man’s face to +shine like the oil of the Hebrews: but it would be better if this +gladdening of some made no heart heavy; and this partial heaviness must +needs be where childish sports take place; and the gawds of a court like +ours are but baby sports after all. When my little ones made a pageant +in the meadow, there were ever some sulking, sooner or later, under the +hedge or within the arbour, while there was unreasonable mirth among +their fellows in the open sunshine,—however all might be of one accord +in the study and at the board. And so is it ever with those who follow +childish plays, be they august kings, or be they silly infants. But it +is no April grief that clouds the faces of the people while their King +is playing the master in order afterwards to enact the buffoon. They +have spent more upon him than the handful of meadow-flowers that +children fling into the lap to help the show; and they would do worse in +their moods than pull these gay flowers to pieces, after the manner of a +freakish babe. Remembering that it is the wont of honest masters to pay +their servants, they are ill content to pay the very roofs from off +their houses, and the seed from out of their furrows, to be lorded over, +and for the greatest favour, laid at the gate to see Dives pass in and +out in his purple and fine linen. It is ill sport for Dives to whistle +up his dogs to lick the poor man’s sores when so black a gulf is opening +yonder to swallow up his pomp. May be, his brethren that shall come +after him shall be wiser; as all are apt to become as time rolls on. The +matin hour decks itself gorgeously with long bright trains, and flaunts +before men’s winking eyes, as if all this grandeur were not made of +tears caught up for a little space into a bright region, but in their +very nature made to dissolve and fall in gloom. But then there is an end +of the folly, and out of the gloom step forth other hours, growing +clearer, and more apt to man’s steady uses; so that when noon is come, +there is no more pranking and shifting of purple and crimson clouds, but +the sun is content to light men perfectly to their business, without +being worshipped as he was when gayer but less glorious. Perhaps a true +sun-like king may come some day, when men have grown eagle-eyed to hail +such an one; and he will not be for calling people from their business +to be dazzled with him; nor for sucking up all that the earth will +yield, so that there may be drought around and gloom overhead. Rather +will he call out bubbling springs from the warm hill-side, and cast a +glister over every useful stream, to draw men’s eyes to it; and would +rather thirst himself than that they should. Such an one will be content +to leave it to God’s hand to fill him with glory, and would rather kiss +the sweat from off the poor man’s brow, than that the labourer should +waste the precious time in falling on his knees to him to mock him with +idolatry. Though he be high enough above the husbandman’s head, he is +not the lord of the husbandman, but in some sort his servant; though it +be a service of more glory than any domination.—If he should chance +vainly to forget that there sitteth One above the firmament, he may find +that the same Maker who once stayed the sun for the sake of one +oppressed people may, at the prayer of another, wheel the golden throne +hurriedly from its place, and call out constellations of lesser lights, +under whose rule men may go to and fro, and refresh themselves in peace. +The state of a king that domineers is one thing; and the dignity of a +king that serves and blesses is another; and this last is so noble, that +if any shall arise who shall not be content with the office’s +simplicity, but must needs deck it with trappings and beguile it with +toys, let him be assured that he is as much less than man as he is more +than ape; and it were wiser in him to rummage out a big nut to crack, +and set himself to switch his own tail, than seek to handle the orb and +stretch out the sceptre of kings." + +It was a day of disappointments to Henry. Not only were his Commons +anything but benevolently disposed towards furnishing the benevolence +required, but the young nun would not come to be married to the friar. +The gallants who had been sent for her now appeared before the King with +fear and trembling, bearing sad tidings of the sturdiness of female +self-will. They had traced the maiden to the house of her father, one +Richard Read, and had endeavoured to force her away with them, +notwithstanding her own resistance, and her mother’s and sister’s +prayers and tears. In the midst of the dispute, her father had returned +from Blackfriars, surrounded by the friends who had joined him in +declining the tribute which they were really unable to pay. Heated by +the insolent words which had been thrown at them by the Cardinal, and +now exasperated by the treatment his daughter had met with, Read had +dropped a few words,—wonderfully fierce to be uttered in the presence of +courtiers in those days,—which were now repeated in the form of a +message to the King:—Read had given his daughter to be the spouse of +Christ, and had dowered her accordingly; and it did not now suit his +paternal ambition that she should be made the spouse of a houseless +friar for the bribe of a dowry from the King; this dowry being actually +taken from her father under the name of a benevolence to aid the King’s +necessities. He would neither sell his daughter nor buy the King’s +favour. + +Henry was of course enraged, and ordered the arrest of the entire +household of Richard Read; a proceeding which the Cardinal and the +Speaker agreed in disliking as impolitic in the present crisis. Wolsey +represented to the King that there could be no failure of the subsidy if +every recusant were reasoned with apart, instead of being placed in a +position where his malicious frowardness would pervert all the rest of +the waverers. If good words and amiable behaviour did not avail to +induce men to contribute, the obstinate might be brought before the +privy council; or, better still, be favoured with a taste of military +service. Henry seized upon the suggestion, knowing that such service as +that of the Border war was not the pleasantest occupation in the world +for a London alderman, at the very time when his impoverished and +helpless family especially needed his protection. He lost sight, for the +time, as Wolsey intended that he should, of the daughter, while planning +fresh tyranny towards her father. The church would be spared the scandal +of such a jesting marriage as had been proposed, if, as the Cardinal +hoped, the damsel should so withdraw herself as not to be found in the +morning. The religious More had aspirations to the same effect. + +“It is a turning of nature from its course,” said he, “to make night- +birds of these tender young swallows; but they are answerable who scared +them from beneath their broad eaves when they were nestled and looked +for no storm. Pray the Lord of Hosts that he may open a corner in some +one of his altars for this ruffled fledgeling!” + +Little did the gentle daughters of More suspect for what message they +were summoned to produce writing materials, and desired to command the +attendance of a king’s messenger. Their father was not required to be +aiding and abetting in this exercise of royal tyranny. Perceiving that +his presence was not wished for, he stepped into his orchard, to refresh +himself with speculations on his harvest of pippins, and to hear what +his family had to say on his position with respect to the mighty +personages within. + +“I marvel,” said his wife to him, “that you should be so wedded to your +own small fancies as to do more things that may mislike his Grace than +prove your own honest breeding. What with your undue haste to stretch +your limbs in your bedesman’s apparel, and your simple desire to mere +fruit and well-water, his Highness may right easily content himself that +his bounty can add nothing to your state.” + +“And so shall he best content me, dame. Worldly honour is the thing of +which I have resigned the desire; and as for worldly profit, I trust +experience proveth, and shall daily prove, that I never was very greedy +therein.” + +Mr. Roper saw no reason for the lady’s rebuke or apprehensions. When did +the King’s Highness ever more lovingly pass his arm round any subject’s +neck than this day, when he caressed the honourable Speaker of his +faithful Commons? + +“There is full narrow space, Mr. Roper, between my shoulders and my head +to serve as a long resting-place for a king’s caress. Trust me, if he +had been a Samson, and if it had suited the pleasure of his Grace, he +would at that moment have plucked my head from my shoulders before you +all. It may be well for plain men that a king’s finger and thumb are not +stronger than those of any other man.” + +Henry and his poor councillor now appeared from beneath the porch, the +one not the less gay, the other not the less complacent, for their +having together made provision for the utter ruin of a family whose only +fault was their poverty. A letter had been written to the general +commanding on the Scotch border, to desire that Richard Read, now sent +down to serve as a soldier at his own charge, should be made as +miserable as possible, should be sent out on the most perilous duty in +the field, and subjected to the most severe privations in garrison, and +used in all things according to the sharp military discipline of the +northern wars, in retribution for his refusing to pay money which he did +not possess. The snare being thus fixed, the train of events laid by +which the unhappy wife and daughters were to be compelled first to +surrender their only guardian, then to give their all for his ransom +from the enemy, and, lastly, to mourn him slain in the field,—this +hellish work being carefully set on foot, the devisers thereof came +forth boldly into God’s daylight, to amuse themselves with innocence and +flatter the ear of beauty till the sun went down, and then to mock the +oppressed citizens of London with the tumult of their pomp and revelry. +Perhaps some who turned from the false glare to look up into the pure +sky might ask why the heavens were clear,—where slept the thunderbolt? + + + + + --------------------- + + + SECOND AGE. + + +It was not Sunday morning, yet the bells of every steeple in London had +been tolling since sunrise; the shops were all shut; and there was such +an entire absence of singers and jugglers, of dancing bears and +frolicking monkeys in the streets, that it might seem as if the late +Protector had risen from his grave, and stalked abroad to frown over the +kingdom once more. Nothing this morning betokened the reign of a merry +monarch. No savour of meats issued from any house; no echo of music was +heard; the streets were as yet empty, the hour of meeting for worship +not having arrived, and there being no other cause for coming abroad. +There was more than a sabbath purity in the summer sky, unstained by +smoke as it could never be but on the day of a general fast in summer. +The few boats on the river which brought worshippers from a distance to +observe the solemn ordinance in the city, glided along without noise or +display. There was no exhibition of flags; no shouting to rival barks; +no matching against time. The shipping itself seemed to have a mournful +and penitential air, crowded together in silence and stillness. The +present had been an untoward season, as regarded the nation’s +prosperity, in many respects; and when the court and the people were +heartily tired of the festivities which had followed the King’s +marriage, they bethought themselves of taking the advice of many of +their divines, and deprecating the wrath of Heaven in a solemn day of +entreaty for rain, and for vengeance on their enemies. + +The deepest gloom was not where, perhaps, it would have been looked for +by the light-minded who regarded such observances as very wholesome for +the common people, but extremely tiresome for themselves. Dr. Reede, a +young Presbyterian clergyman, the beloved pastor of a large congregation +in London, came forth from his study an hour before the time of service, +with a countenance anything but gloomy, though its mild seriousness +befitted the occasion. Having fully prepared himself for the pulpit, he +sought his wife. He found her with her two little children, the elder of +whom was standing at a chair, turning over the gilt leaves of a new +book; while the younger, a tender infant, nestled on its mother’s bosom +as she walked, in a rather hurried manner, from end to end of the +apartment. + +“What hath fallen out, Esther? Is the babe ill-disposed?” asked the +husband, stooping to look into the tiny face that peeped over Esther’s +shoulder. + +“The child is well, my love; and the greater is my sin in being +disturbed. I will be so no more,” she continued, returning to the seat +where the child was playing with the book; “I will fret myself no more +on account of evildoers, as the word of God gives commandment.” + +“Is it this which hath troubled you?” asked her husband, taking up the +volume,—the new Book of Common Prayer,—of which every clergyman must +shortly swear that he believed the whole, or lose his living. “We knew, +Esther, what must be in this book. We knew that it must contain that +which would make it to us as the false gospel of the infidels; and, thus +knowing, there is no danger in the book.” + +And he took it up, and turned over its pages, presently observing, with +a smile,— + +“Truly, it is a small instrument wherewith to be turned out of so large +a living. I could lay my finger over the parts which make a gulf between +my church and me which I may not pass. The leaven is but little; but +since there it must lie, it leavens the whole lump.” + +“Do you think?” inquired Esther, hesitatingly; "is it supposed that many +will——that your brethren regard the matter as you do?" + +“It will be seen in God’s own time how many make a conscience of the +oaths they take in his presence. For me it is enough that I believe not +all that is in this book. If it had been a question whether the King +would or would not compel the oath, I could have humbled myself under +his feet to beseech him to spare the consciences which no King can bind; +but as it is now too late for this, we must cheerfully descend to a low +estate among men, that we may look up before God.” + +“Without doubt; I mean nought else; but when, and where shall we go?” + +"In a few days, unless it should please God to touch the hearts that he +hath hardened,—in a few days we must gird ourselves to go forth." + +“With these little ones! And where?” + +“Where there may be some unseen to bid us God speed! Whether the path +shall open to the right hand or to the left, what matters it?” + +"True: if a path be indeed opened. But these little ones——" + +“God hath sent food into the heart of wildernesses whence there was no +path; and the Scripture hath a word of the young ravens which cry.” + +"It hath. I will never again, by God’s grace, look back to the estate +which my father lost for this very King. But, without reckoning up that +score with him, it moves the irreligious themselves to see how he guides +himself in these awful times,—toying in his palace-walks this very +morning, while he himself puts sackcloth on the whole nation. Edmund is +just come in from seeing the King standing on the green walk in the +palace-garden, and jesting with the Jezebel who ever contrives to be at +that high, back window as he passes by. I would the people knew of it, +that they might avoid the scandal of interceding for a jester whom they +suppose to be worshipping with them, while he is thinking of nothing so +little all the time as worshipping any but his own wantons." + +“If Edmund can thus testify, it is time that I were enlarging my prayer +for the King. If for the godly we intercede seven times, should it not +for the ungodly be seventy-times seven?” + +Mrs. Reede’s brother Edmund could confirm the account. In virtue of an +office which he held, he had liberty to pass through the palace-garden. +The sound of mirth, contrasting strangely with the distant toll of +bells, had drawn him into the shade; and he had seen Charles throwing +pebbles up to a window above, where a lady was leaning out, and pelting +him with sweetmeats in return. It was hoped that the queen, newly +married, and a stranger in the country, was in some far-distant corner +of the palace, and that she did not yet understand the tongue in which +Charles’s excesses were wont to be openly spoken of. The Corporations of +London had not yet done feasting and congratulating this most unhappy +lady; but all supposed matter of congratulation was already over. The +clergy of the kingdom prayed for her as much from compassion as duty; +and her fate served them as an unspoken text for their discourses on the +vanity of worldly greatness. The mothers of England dropped tears at the +thought of the lonely and insulted stranger; and their daughters sighed +their pity for the neglected bride. + +Edmund now came into the room, and his appearance cost Dr. Reede more +sighs than his own impending anxieties. Though Edmund held a place of +honour and trust at the Admiralty, he had been in possession of it too +short a time to justify such a display as he had of late appeared +disposed to make. On this day of solemn fast, he seemed to have no +thought of sackcloth, but showed himself in a summer black bombazin +suit, trimmed very nobly with scarlet ribbon; a camlet cloak, lined with +scarlet; a prodigious periwig, and a new beaver. + +“What news do you bring from the navy-yards?” inquired Dr. Reede. “Is +there hope of the ill spirit being allayed, and the defence of the +country cared for?” + +“In truth, but little,” replied Edmund, "unless it become the custom to +pay people their dues. What with the quickness of the enemy, and the +slowness of the people to work without their wages, and the chief men +running after the shows and pastimes of the court, and others keeping +their hands by their sides through want of the most necessary materials, +and the waste that comes of wanton idleness,—it is said by certain wise +persons that it will be no wonder if our enemies come to our very shores +to defy us, and burn our shipping in our own river." + +°How is it that you obtain your dues, Edmund? This neat suit would be +hardly paid for out of your private fortune." + +“It is time for me to go like myself,” said Edmund, conceitedly, “liable +as I am to stand before the King or the Duke. I might complain, like the +rest, that but little money is to be seen; but, with such as I have, I +must do honour to the King’s Majesty, whom I am like to see to-day.” + +Mrs. Reede had so strong an apprehension that Edmund would soon be +compelled, like others, to forego his salary, that she saw little that +was safe and honourable in spending his money on dress as fast as it +came in. But that the servants of government were infected with the +vanities of the government, they would prepare for the evil days which +were evidently coming on, instead of letting their luxury and their +poverty grow together. + +“So is it ever, whether the vices of government be austere or pleasant,” +observed Dr. Reede. “The people must needs look and speak sourly when +Oliver grew grave; and now, they have suddenly turned, as it were, into +a vast troop of masqueraders, because the court is merry. But there is a +difference in the two examples which it behoves discerning men to +perceive. In respect of religious gravity, all men stand on the same +ground; it is a matter between themselves and their God. But the +government has another responsibility, in regard to its extravagance: it +is answerable to men; for government does not earn the wealth it spends; +and each act of waste is an injury to those who have furnished the +means, and an insult to every man who toils hard for scanty bread.” + +Government could not be expected to look too closely into these matters, +Edmund thought. All governments were more or less extravagant; and he +supposed they always would be. + +“Because they live by the toil of others? If so, there is a remedy in +making the government itself toil.” + +“I would fain see it,” cried Mrs. Reede. “I would fain see the King +unravelling his perplexed accounts; and the Duke bestirring himself +among the ships and in the army, instead of taking the credit of what +better men do; and the court ladies ordering their houses discreetly, +while their husbands made ready to show what service they had done the +nation. Then, my dear, you would preach to a modest, and sober, and +thankful people, who, with one heart, would be ready to listen.” + +“It is but too far otherwise now,” replied Dr. Reede. "Of my hearers, +some harden their hearts in unchristian contempt of all that is not as +sad as their own spirits; and others look to see that the cloak hangs +from the shoulder in a comely fashion as they stand. At the same time, +there is more need of the word the more men’s minds are divided. This is +the age when virtue is oppressed, and the selfish make mirth. Of those +that pray for the King’s Majesty, how many have given him their +children’s bread, and mourn and pine, while the gay whom they feed have +no thought for their misery! Edmund himself allows that the shipwrights +go home without their wages, while he who works scarce at all disports +himself with his bombazin suit and scarlet ribbons. Can I preach to them +as effectually as if they were content, and he——" + +“What?” inquired Edmund. + +"In truth, Edmund, I could less find in my heart to admonish these +defrauded men for stealing bread from the navy-stores for their hungry +children, than you for drawing their envious eyes upon you. The large +money that pays your small service, whose is it but theirs,—earned +hardly, paid willingly to the King, to be spent in periwigs and silk +hose? Shall men who thus injure and feel injury in their worldly labour, +listen with one heart and mind to the Sabbath word? Too well I know +that, from end to end of this kingdom, there is one tumult of bad +passions which set the Scriptures at nought. The lion devours the lamb; +the innocent know too well the sting of the asp; and as often as a +fleece appears, men spy for the wolf beneath it. What chance hath the +word when it falls upon ground so encumbered?" + +Edmund pleaded that, though he had done little yet to merit his public +salary, he meant to do a great deal. This very day, the King had +appointed some confidential person to confer with him on an affair in +which his exertions would be required. Things had come to such a pass +now in the management of the army and navy, that something must be done +to satisfy the people; and Edmund hoped, that if he put on the +appearance of a rising young man, he might soon prove to be so, and gain +honour in proportion to the profit he was already taking by +anticipation. + +It must be something very pressing that was wanted of Edmund, if no day +would serve but that of this solemn fast. It did not occur to the Reedes +that it must be a day of ennui to Charles and his court, at any rate, +and that there would be an economy of mirth in transacting at such a +time business which must be done. + +There was a something in Edmund’s countenance and gait as he went to +worship this morning which made his sister fear that, during the +service, he must be thinking more of the expected interview at the +palace than of her husband’s eloquent exposition of how the sins of the +government were the sins of the nation, and how both merited the +chastisement which it was the object of this day’s penitence to avert. +The sermon was a bold one; but the nation was growing bold under a sense +of injury, and of the inconsistency of the government. The time was past +when plain speakers could be sent off to the wars, for the purpose of +being impoverished, made captive, or slain. Dr. Reede knew, and bore in +mind, the fate of a certain ancestor of his, and returned thanks in his +heart for such an advance in the recognition of social rights as allowed +him to be as honest as his forefathers, with greater impunity. He +resolved now to do a bolder thing than he had ever yet meditated,—to +take advantage of Edmund’s going to the palace to endeavour to obtain an +interview with the King, and intercede for the Presbyterian clergy, who +must, in a few days, vacate their livings, or violate their consciences, +unless Charles should be pleased to remember, before it was too late, +that he had passed his royal word in their favour. Charles was not +difficult of access, particularly on a fast-day; the experiment was +worth trying. + +The streets were dull and empty as the brothers proceeded to the river- +side to take boat for the palace. There was a little more bustle by the +stairs whence they meant to embark, the watermen having had abundance of +time this day to drink and quarrel. The contention for the present God- +send of passengers would have run high, if Edmund had not known how to +put on the manner of a personage of great importance; a manner which he +sincerely thought himself entitled to assume, it being a mighty +pleasure, as he declared to his companion, to feel himself a greater man +in the world than he could once have expected for himself, or any of his +friends for him. He felt as if he was lord of the Thames, while, with +his arms folded in his cloak, and his beaver nicely poised, he looked +abroad, and saw not another vessel in motion on the surface of the broad +river. + +This solitude did not last very long. Dr. Reede had not finished +contemplating the distant church of St. Paul’s, which Wren, the artist, +had been engaged to repair. He was speculating on the probable effect of +a cupola (a strange form described, but not yet witnessed, in England); +he was wondering what induced Oliver to take the choir for horse- +barracks, when so many other buildings in the neighbourhood might have +served the purpose better; he was inwardly congratulating his +accomplished young friend on his noble task of restoring,—not only to +beauty, that which was dilapidated,—but to sanctity that which was +desecrated. Dr. Reede was thinking of these things, rather than +listening to the watermen’s account of a singular new vessel, called a +yacht, which the Dutch East India Company had presented to the King, +when a barge was perceived to be coming up the river with so much haste +as to excite Edmund’s attention and stop the boatman’s description. + +"It is Palmer, bringing news, I am sure,—what mighty haste!" observed +Edmund, turning to order the boatmen to make for the barge. "News from +sea,—mighty good or bad, I am certain. We will catch them on their way." + +“Palmer, the King’s messenger! He will not tell his news to us, Edmund.” + +“He will, knowing me, and finding where I am going.” + +Palmer did tell his news. His Majesty had sustained a signal defeat +abroad. The doubt was where to find the King or the Duke, there being a +rumour that they were somewhere on the river. Palmer had witnessed a +sailing-match between two royal boats, some way below Greenwich, but he +could not make out that any royal personages were on board. + +“Here they are, if they be on the river!” exclaimed Edmund, inquiring of +the watermen if the extraordinary vessel just coming in sight was not +the yacht they had described. It was, and the King must be on board, as +no one else would dream of taking pleasure on the river this day. + +Edmund managed so well to put himself in the way of being observed while +Palmer made his inquiries, that both were summoned on board the yacht. +The clergyman looked so unlike anybody that the lords and gentlemen +within had commonly to do with, that he was not allowed to remain +behind. They seemed to have some curiosity to see whether a presbyterian +parson could eat like other men, for they pressed him to sit down to +table with them,—a table steaming with the good meats which had been +furnished from the kitchen-boat which always followed in the rear of the +yacht. Dr. Reede simply observed that it was a fast day; and could not +be made to perceive that being on the water and in high company absolved +him from the observances of the day. Every body else seemed of a +different opinion; for, not content with the usual regale of fine music +which attended the royal excursions, the lords and gentlemen present had +made the fiddlers drunk, and set them in that state to sing all the foul +songs with which their professional memories could furnish them. +Abundance of punch was preparing, and there was some Canary of +incomparable goodness which had been carried to and from the Indies. Two +of the company were too deeply interested in what they were about to +care for either music or Canary at the moment. Charles and the Duke of +Ormond were rattling the dice-box, having staked 1000_l._ on the cast. +It was of some consequence to the King to win it, as he had, since +morning, lost 23,000_l._ in bets with the Duke of York and others about +the sailing match which they had carried on while the rest of the nation +were at church, deprecating God’s judgments. + +Having lost his 1000_l._, he turned gaily to the strangers, as if +expecting some new amusement from them. He made a sign to Edmund (whom +he knew in virtue of his office), that he would hold discourse with him +presently in private, and then asked Dr. Reede what the clergy had +discovered of the reasons for the heavy judgment with which the kingdom +was afflicted. + +Dr. Reede believed the clergy were more anxious to obtain God’s mercy +than to account for his judgments. + +“You are deceived, friend. Our reverend dean of Windsor has been +preaching that it is our supineness in leaving the heads of the +regicides on their shoulders that has brought these visitations on our +people. He discoursed largely of the matter of the Gibeonites, and +exhorted us to quick vengeance.” + +Dr. Reede could not remember any text which taught that wreaking +vengeance on man was the way to propitiate God. He could not suppose +that this disastrous defeat abroad would have been averted by butchering +the regicides in celebration of the King’s marriage, as had been +proposed. + +The King had not yet had time to comprehend the news of this defeat. On +hearing of it, he seemed in a transient state of consternation; +marvelled, as his subjects were wont to do, what was to become of the +kingdom at this rate; and signified his wish to be left with the +messenger, the Duke of York alone remaining to help him to collect all +the particulars. The company accordingly withdrew to curse the enemy, +wonder who was killed and who wounded, and straightway amuse themselves, +the ladies with the dice-box, the gentlemen with betting on their play, +and all with the feats of a juggler of rare accomplishments, who was at +present under the patronage of one of the King’s favourites. + +When Palmer had told his story and was dismissed, Edmund was called in, +and, at his own request, was attended by his brother-in-law,—the +discreet gentleman of excellent learning, who might aid the project to +be now discoursed of. The King did, at length, look grave. He supposed +Edmund knew the purpose for which his presence was required. + +“To receive his Highness the Duke’s pleasure respecting the navy +accounts that are to be laid before Parliament.” + +“That is my brother’s affair,” replied the King. "I desire from +you,—your parts having been well commended to me,—some discreet +composure which shall bring our government into less disfavour with our +people than it hath been of late." + +Edmund did not doubt that this could easily be done. + +"It must be done; for in our present straits we cannot altogether so do +without the people as for our ease we could desire. But as for the +ease,—there is but little of it where the people are so changeable. They +have forgot the flatteries with which they hailed us, some short while +since, and give us only murmurs instead. It is much to be wished that +they should be satisfied in respect of their duty to us, without which +we cannot satisfy them in the carrying on of the war." + +The Duke of York thought that his Majesty troubled himself needlessly +about the way in which supplies were to be obtained from the people. +Money must be had, and speedily, or defeat would follow defeat; for +never were the army and navy in a more wretched condition than now. But +if his Majesty would only exert his prerogative, and levy supplies for +his occasions as his ancestors had done, all might yet be retrieved +without the trouble of propitiating the nation. The King persisted +however in his design of making his government popular by means of a +pamphlet which should flatter the people with the notion that they kept +their affairs in their own hands. It was the shortest way to begin by +satisfying the people’s minds. + +And how was this to be done? Dr. Reede presumed to inquire. Charles, +thoroughly discomposed by the news he had just heard, in addition to a +variety of private perplexities, declared that nothing could be easier +than to set forth a true account of the royal poverty. No poor gentleman +of all the train to whom he was in debt could be more completely at his +wit’s end for money than he. His wardrobeman had this morning lamented +that the King had no handkerchiefs, and only three bands to his neck; +and how to take up a yard of linen for his Majesty’s service was more +than any one knew. + +Edmund glanced at his own periwig in the opposite mirror, and observed +that it would be very easy to urge this plea, if such was his Majesty’s +pleasure. + +“Od’s fish! man, you would not tell this beggarly tale in all its +particulars! You would not set the loyal housewives in London to offer +me their patronage of shirts and neckbands!” + +“Besides,” said the Duke, “though it might be very easy to tell the tale +of our poverty, it might not be so easy to make men believe it.” + +Dr. Reede here giving an involuntary sign of assent, the King would know +what was in his mind. Dr. Reede, as usual, spoke his thoughts. The +people, being aware what sums had within a few months fallen into the +royal treasury, would be slow to suppose that their king was in want of +necessary clothing. + +“What! the present to the Queen from the Lord Mayor and Aldermen? That +was but a paltry thousand pounds.” + +Dr. Reede could not let it be supposed that any one expected the King to +benefit by gifts to his Queen. + +Charles looked up hastily to see if this was intended as a reproach, for +he had indeed appropriated every thing that he could lay his hands on of +what his dutiful subjects had offered to his Queen, as a compliment on +her marriage. The clergyman looked innocent, and the King went on,— + +"And as for her portion,—twenty such portions would not furnish forth +one war, as the people ought to know. And there is my sister’s portion +to the Prince of Orleans soon to be paid. If the people did but take the +view we would have them take of our affairs at home and abroad, we +should not have to borrow of France, and want courage to tell our +faithful subjects that we had done so." + +Edmund would do his best to give them the desired opinions. Dr. Reede +thought it a pity they could not be by the King’s side,—aye, now on +board this very boat, to understand and share the King’s views, and thus +justify the government. As a burst of admiration at some of the +juggler’s tricks made itself heard in the cabin at the very moment this +was said, the King again looked up to see whether satire was intended. + +Edmund supposed that one object of his projected pamphlet was to +communicate gently the fact of a secret loan of 200,000 crowns from +France, designed for the support of the war in Portugal, but so +immediately swallowed up at home that it appeared to have answered no +more purpose than a loan of so many pebbles, while it had subjected the +nation to a degradation which the people would not have voluntarily +incurred. This communication was indeed to be a part of Edmund’s task; +but there was a more important one still to be made. It could not now +long remain a secret that Dunkirk was in the hands of the French—— + +“Dunkirk taken by the French!” exclaimed Dr. Reede, not crediting what +he heard. “We are lost indeed, if the French make aggressions like +this.” + +“Patience, brother!” whispered Edmund. “There is no aggression in the +case. The matter is arranged by mutual agreement.” + +Dr. Reede looked perplexed, till the Duke carelessly told him that +Dunkirk had been sold to the French King. It was a pity the nation must +know the fact. They would not like it. + +“Like it! Dunkirk sold! Whose property was Dunkirk?” asked Dr. Reede, +reverting to the time when Oliver’s acquisition of Dunkirk was +celebrated as a national triumph. + +“We must conduct the bargains of the nation, you know,” replied the +Duke. “In old times, the people desired no better managers of their +affairs than their kings.” + +“’Tis a marvel then that they troubled themselves to have Parliaments. +Pray God the people may be content with what they shall receive for a +conquest which they prized! Some other goodly town, I trust, is secured +to us; or some profitable fishing coast; or some fastness which shall +give us advantage over the enemy, and spare the blood of our soldiers.” + +“It were as well to have retained Dunkirk as taken any of these in +exchange,” said the King;—a proposition which Dr. Reede was far from +disputing. “Our necessities required another fashion of payment.” + +"In money!—and then the taxes will be somewhat lightened. This will be a +welcome relief to the people, although their leave was not asked. There +is at least the good of a lifting up of a little portion of their +burdens." + +“Not so. We cannot at present spare our subjects. This 400,000_l._ come +from Dunkirk is all too little for the occasions of our dignity. Our +house at Hampton Court is not yet suitably arranged. The tapestries are +such that the world can show nothing nobler, yet the ceilings, however +finely fretted, are not yet gilt. The canal is not perfected, and the +Banqueting House in the Paradise is yet bare.” + +“The extraordinary wild fowl in St. James’s Park did not fly over +without cost,” observed the Duke. + +"Some did. The melancholy water-fowl from Astracan was bestowed by the +Russian Ambassador; and certain merchants who came for justice brought +us the cranes and the milk-white raven. But the animals that it was +needful to put in to make the place answerable to its design,—the +antelopes, and the Guinea goats, and the Arabian sheep, and others,—cost +nearly their weight of gold. Kings cannot make fair bargains." + +“For aught but necessaries,” interposed the divine. + +"Or for necessaries. Windsor is exceedingly ragged and ruinous. It will +occupy the cost of Dunkirk to restore it——" + +“According to the taste of the ladies of the court,” interrupted the +Duke. “They will have the gallery of horns furnished with beams of the +rarest elks and antelopes that there be in the world. Then the hall and +stairs must be bright with furniture of arms, in festoons, trophy-like: +while the chambers have curious and effeminate pictures, giving a +contrast of softness to that which presented only war and horror.” + +“Then there is the demolishing of the palace at Greenwich, in order to +build a new one. Besides the cost of rearing, we are advised so to make +a cut as to let in the Thames like a square bay, which will be +chargeable.” + +“And this is to be ordered by Parliament? or are the people to be told +that a foreign possession of theirs is gone to pay for water-fowl and +effeminate pictures?” + +“Then there is the army,” continued the King. “I have daily news of a +lack of hospitals, so that our maimed soldiers die of the injuries of +the air. And this very defeat, with which the city will presently be +ringing, was caused by the failure of ammunition. And not unknowingly; +for this young clerk had the audacity to forewarn us.” + +“Better have sold the troops and their general alive into the hands of +the enemy, than send them into the field without a sufficiency of +defence,” cried Dr. Reede. + +“So his Majesty thinks,” observed the Duke; “and has therefore done +wisely in taking a goodly sum from the Dutch to delay the sailing of the +fleet for the east till the season is too far gone for action. Nay! is +it not a benefit for the King to have the money he so much needs, and +for the lives to be saved which must be otherwise lost for want of the +due ammunition?” + +Dr. Reede was too much affected at this gross bartering away of the +national honour to trust himself to speak; Edmund observed that he +should insist, in his pamphlet, on the exceeding expensiveness of war in +these days, in comparison of the times when men went out, each with his +bow and arrow, or his battle-axe, and his provision of food furnished at +his own charge. Since gunpowder had been used, and engines of curious +workmanship,—since war had become a science, it had grown mightily +expensive, and the people must pay accordingly, as he should speedily +set forth. + +“Setting forth also how the people should therefore be the more +consulted, before a strife is entered upon,” said the clergyman. + +“Nay,” said the Duke, “I am for making the matter short and easy. An +expensive army we must have; and a troublesome Parliament to boot is too +much. I am for getting up the army into an honourable condition, and +letting down the Parliament. His Majesty will be persuaded thereto in +time, when he has had another taste of the discontents of his changeable +people.” + +Dr. Reede imagined that such an innovation might not be the last change, +if the nation should have more liking to be represented by a Parliament +than ruled by an army. But the Duke did not conceal his contempt for the +new fashion of regarding the people and their representatives. There was +no telling what pass things might come to when monarchs were reduced to +shifts to get money, and the people fancied that they had a right to sit +in judgment on the use that was made of it. He seemed to forget that he +had had a father, and what had become of him, while he set up as an +example worthy of all imitation the spirited old king, bluff Harry, that +put out his hand and took what he pleased, and amused himself with +sending grumblers to seek adventures north, south, east, or west. If the +King would take his advice, he would show the nation an example of the +first duty of a king,—to protect his people from violence,—in such a +fashion as should leave the Parliament little to say, even if allowed to +meet. Let his Majesty bestow all his paternal care on cherishing his +army. + +“It is true,” said Dr. Reede, “that a ruler’s first duty is to give +security to his people; and in the lowest state in which men herd +together, the danger is looked for from without; and the people who at +home gather food, each for himself, go out to war, each with his own +weapon. Their ruler does no more than call them out, and point the way, +and lead them home. Afterwards, when men are settled on lands, and made +the property of the rich and strong, they go out to war at the charge of +their lords, and the King has still nothing to do but to command them. +Every man is or may be a warrior; and it is for those who furnish forth +his blood and sinews, his weapons and his food, to decide about the +conduct of the war. But, at a later time, when men intermingle and +divide their labour at will, and the time of slavery is over, every man +is no longer a warrior, but some fight for hire, while those who hire +them stay at their business at home.” + +“Or at their pleasures,” observed the Duke, glancing at his brother. + +“Under favour, no,” replied Dr. Reede. "It is not, I conceive, the King +that hires the army to do his pleasure, but the people who hire it for +their defence, the King having the conduct of the enterprises. If the +will of the nation be not taken as to their defence,—if they should +perchance think they need no armed defence, and lose their passion for +conquest, whence must come the hire of their servants,—the soldiery?" + +“They must help themselves with it,” replied the Duke, carelessly. + +"And if they find a giant at every man’s door,—a lion in the path to +every one’s field?" said the divine. + +“Thy learning hath perplexed thee, man. These are not the days of +enchantment, of wild beasts, and overtopping men.” + +“Pardon me; there are no days when men may not be metamorphosed, if the +evil influence be but strong enough. There are no days when a man’s +household gods will not make a giant of him for the defence of their +shrine. There are no days when there are not such roarings in the path +of violence as to sink the heart of the spoiler within him.” + +“Let but the art of war improve like other arts,” said the Duke, “and +our cannon will easily out-roar all your lions, and beat down the giants +you speak of.” + +“Rather the reverse, I conceive,” said the plain-spoken clergyman. “The +expense of improved war is aggravated, not only in the outfit, but in +the destruction occasioned. The soldier is a destructive labourer, and, +as such, will not be overlong tolerated by an impoverished nation, whose +consent to strife is the more necessary the more chargeable such strife +becomes to them. Furthermore, men even now look upon blood as something +more precious than water, and upon human souls as somewhat of a higher +nature than the fiery bubbles that our newly-wise chemists send up into +the ether, to wander whither no eye can follow them. Our cannon now +knock down a file where before a battle-axe could cleave but a single +skull. Men begin already to tremble over their child’s play of human +life; and if the day comes when some mighty engine shall be prepared to +blow to atoms half an army, there may be found a multitude of stout +hearts to face it; but where is he who will be brave enough to fire the +touch-hole, even for the sure glory of being God’s arch enemy?” + +“Is this brother of thine seeking a patent for some new device of war- +engines?” inquired Charles of the divine. “Methinks your discourse seems +like a preface to such a proposal. Would it were so! for patents aid the +exchequer.” + +“Would it were so!” said the Duke, “for a king might follow his own will +with such an engine in his hand.” + +“Would it were so!” said Dr. Reede, “for then would the last days of war +be come, and Satan would find much of his occupation gone. Edmund, if +thou wilt invent such an engine as may mow down a host at a blow, I will +promise thee a triumph on that battle-field, and the intercession of +every church in Christendom. Such a deed shall one day be done. War +shall one day be ended; but not by you, Edmund. Men must enact the wild +beast yet a few centuries longer, to furnish forth a barbarous show to +their rulers, till men shall call instead for a long age of fasting, and +sackcloth, and ashes.” + +“Meantime,” said Edmund, “they call impertinently for certain accounts +of the charges of our wars which his Majesty is over gracious in +permitting them to demand.” + +“Do they think so?” + +“They cannot but see,” said the Duke, “by the way his Majesty gave his +speech to the Parliament, that he desires no meddling from them.” + +“And how did I speak?” asked the King. “Did I not assure the Commons +that I would not have asked for their subsidies if I had not had need; +and that through no extravagance of my own, but the disorder of the +times? And is not that much to say when I am daily told by my gentlemen +of the palace, and others who know better still, that my will is above +all privilege of Parliament or city, and that I have no need to account +to any at all? How did I speak?” + +"Only as if your wits were with your queen, or some other lady, while +the words of your speech lay under your eye. Some words your Commons +must needs remember, from the many times they were said over; but +further——" + +“Pshaw!” cried the King, vexed at the description he had himself asked +for. “This learned divine knows not what our Parliament is made of. +There are but two seamen and about twenty merchants, and the rest have +no scruple in coming drunk to the house, and making a mockery of the +country people when they are sober. How matters it how I give my speech +to them?” + +“They are indeed not the people,” observed Reede; "and I forewarn your +Majesty that their consent is not the consent of the people; and that +however they may clap the hands at your Majesty’s enterprises and +private sales, the people will not be the less employed in looking back +upon Oliver——" + +“And forward to me?” inquired the Duke, laughing. + +"And forward to the time when the proud father shall not be liable to +see his only son return barefoot and tattered from a war where he has +spilled his blood; or a daughter made the victim, first of violence, and +then of mockery, through the example of the King’s court; and no justice +to be had but by him who brings the heaviest bribe:—forward to the time +when drunken cavaliers shall be thought unfitting representatives of a +hungering people; and when the money which is raised by the toils of the +nation shall be spent for the benefit of the nation; when men shall +inquire how Rome fell, and why France is falling; and shall find that +decay ensues when that which is a trust is still pertinaciously used as +prerogative, and when the profusion in high places is answerable to the +destitution below!" + +“Nay; I am sure there is destitution in high places,” cried the King, +“and luxury in the lower. I see not a few ladies outshining my Queen in +gallantry of jewels; and if you like to look in at certain low houses +that I could tell you of, you will see what vast heaps of gold are +squandered in deep and most prodigious gaming.” + +“True; and therein is found the excuse of the court; that whenever the +nation is over-given to luxury, the court is prodigious in its +extravagance.” + +“Hold, man!” cried the King. “Wouldst thou be pilloried for a libel?” + +“Such is too common a sight to draw due regard,” coolly replied the +divine. “Libels are in some sort the primers of the ignorant multitude, +scornfully despised for their ignorance. There are not means wherewith +to give the people letters in an orderly way; so that they gape after +libels first, and then they gape to see them burned by the hangman; and +learn one sort of hardness by flinging stones at a pilloried wretch, and +another sort of hardness by watching the faces of traitors who pray +confidently on the scaffold, and look cheerfully about them on the +hangman’s hellish instruments; and all this hardness, which may chance +to peril your Majesty, is not always mollified by such soft things as +they may witness at the theatres which profanely give and take from the +licentious times. If the people would become wise, such is the +instruction that awaits them.” + +“Methinks you will provoke us to let the people see how cheerfully you +would look on certain things that honest gazers round a scaffold shrink +from beholding. It were better for you to pray for me from your pulpit, +like a true subject of Christ and your King.” + +“Hitherto I have done so; but it pleases your Majesty that from my +pulpit I should pray no longer. Alas!” cried he, casting a glance +through the window as he perceived that the vessel drew to land, “alas! +what a raging fire! And another! And a third!” + +“The bonfires for the victory,” quietly observed Edmund. + +Dr. Reede was forbidden to throw any doubts abroad on the English having +gained a splendid victory. The King had ordered these bonfires at the +close of the fast day. They were lighted, it appeared, somewhat +prematurely, as the sun yet glittered along the Thames; but this only +showed the impatient joy of the people. The church bells were evidently +preparing to ring merry peals as soon as the last hour of humiliation +should have expired. The King’s word had gone forth. It suited his +purposes to gain a victory just now; and a victory he was determined it +should be, to the last moment. When the people should discover the +cheat, the favours occasioned by it would be past recall. They could +only do what they had done before,—go home and be angry. + +This was all that now remained for Dr. Reede, the King’s landing being +waited for by a throng of persons whose converse had little affinity +with wise counsel. Certain courtiers, deplorably _ennuyés_ by the king’s +absence, sauntered about the gardens, and looked abroad upon the river, +in hopes of his approach. An importation of French coxcombs from +Dunkirk, in fantastical habits, was already here to offend the eyes of +the insulted English people. It was not till Edmund (who was not +dismissed with Dr. Reede) began to exhibit at home the confidence with +which he had been treated, that Dr. Reede and his lady became aware how +much these accomplished cadets could teach Charles on the part of their +own extravagant master. Louis the Fourteenth knew of more ways of +raising money than even Charles. He had taken to creating offices for +sale, for which the court ladies amused themselves in making names. The +pastime of divining their object and utility was left to the people who +paid for them. They read, or were told,—and it made a very funny +riddle,—that the inspector of fresh-butter had kissed hands on his +appointment; that the ordainer of faggots had had the honour of dining +with his Majesty; and that some mighty and wealthy personage had been +honoured with the office of licenser of barber-wig-makers. + +The example of Louis in this and other matters was too good not to be +followed by one in circumstances of equal necessity. Edmund was not by +any means to delay the “discreet composure” by which the minds of the +people were to be propitiated and satisfied. He was to laud to the +utmost the Duke’s conduct of naval affairs,—(whose credit rested on the +ability of his complaisant Clerk of the Acts.) He was to falsify the +navy accounts as much as could be ventured, exaggerating the expenses +and extenuating the receipts, while he made the very best of the +results. He was to take for granted the willingness of a grateful people +to support the dignity of the sovereign, while he insinuated threats of +the establishment of a civil list,—(a thing at that time unknown.) All +this was to be done not the less for room being required for eloquence +about the sale of Dunkirk, and the loan from France, and the bribe from +Holland;—monuments of kingly wisdom all, and of paternal solicitude to +spare the pockets of the people. All this was to be done not the less +for the bright idea which had occurred to some courtier’s mind that the +making of a few new ambassadors might bring money to his Majesty’s +hands. There was more than one man about the court who was very willing +to accept of the dignity of such an office, and to pay to the power that +appointed him a certain fair proportion of the salary which the people +must provide. One gentleman was accordingly sent to Spain, to amuse +himself in reading Calderon, and another to some eastern place where he +might sit on cushions, and smoke at the expense of the people of +England, and to the private profit of their monarch. Amidst all these +clever arrangements, nothing was done for the _security_ or the +_advancement_ of the community. No new measures of _defence_; no better +administration of _justice_; no advantageous _public works_, no +apparatus of _education_, were originated; and, as for the _dignity of +the sovereign_, that was a matter past hope. But by means of the +treacherous sale of the nation’s property and of public offices, by +bribes, by falsification of the public accounts, breaches of royal +credit were for the present stopped, and the day of reckoning deferred. +If the Duke of York could have foreseen from whom and at what time this +reckoning would be demanded, he might have been less acute in his +suggestions, and less bold in his advice; and both he and the King might +have employed to less infamous purpose this day of solemn fast and +deprecation of God’s judgments. But, however true might be Dr. Reede’s +doctrine that the sins of government are the sins of the nation, it +happened in this case, as in a multitude of others, that the accessaries +to the crime offered the atonement, while the principals made sport of +both crime and atonement. + +The false report about the late engagement had gained ground +sufficiently to answer the temporary purposes of those who spread it. As +Dr. Reede took his way homewards, bonfires gleamed reflected in the +waters of the river, and exhibited to advantage the picturesque fronts +of the wooden houses in the narrow streets, and sent trains of sparks up +into the darkening sky, and illuminated the steeples that in a few more +seasons were to fall into the surging mass of a more awful +conflagration. On reaching the comfortable dwelling which he expected to +be soon compelled to quit, he gave himself up, first to humiliation on +account of the guilt against which he had in vain remonstrated, and then +to addressing to the King a strong written appeal on behalf of the +conscientious presbyterian clergy, who had, on the faith of the royal +word, believed themselves safe from such temptations to violate their +consciences as they were now suffering under. + +On a certain Saturday of the same month might be seen the most +magnificent triumph that ever floated on the Thames. It far exceeded the +Venetian pageantry on occasion of espousing the Adriatic. The city of +London was entertaining the King and Queen; and the King was not at all +sorry that the people were at the same time entertained, while he was +making up his mind whether, on dissolving the Parliament, he should call +another which would obligingly give him the dean and chapter lands, or +whether he should let it be seen, according to the opinion of his +brother, that there was no need of any more parliaments. As he sat +beside his Queen, in an antique-shaped vessel, under a canopy of cloth +of gold, supported by Corinthian pillars, wreathed with flowers, +festoons, and garlands, he meditated on the comfort that would accrue, +on the one hand, from all his debts being paid out of these church +lands, and, on the other, from such an entire freedom from +responsibility as he should enjoy when there should be no more speeches +to make to his Commons, and no more remonstrances to hear from them, +grounded on dismal tales of the distresses of his people which he had +rather not hear. The thrones and triumphal arches might do for the +corporation of London to amuse itself with, and for the little boys and +girls on either side of the river to stare at and admire: but it was in +somewhat too infantine a taste to please the majority of the gazers +otherwise than as a revival of antique amusements. The most idly +luxurious about the court preferred entertainments which had a little +more meaning in them,—dramatic spectacles, pictures, music, and fine +buildings and gardens. War is also a favourite excitement in the middle +age of refinement; and the best part of this day’s entertainments, next +to the music, was the peals of ordnance both from the vessels and the +shore, which might prettily remind the gallants, amidst their mirth and +their soft flirtations, of the cannonading that was going on over the +sea. Within a small section of the city of London, many degrees of mirth +might be found this day. + +In the royal barge, the Queen cast her “languishing and excellent eyes” +over the pageant before her, and returned the salutations of the +citizens who made obeisances in passing, and now and then exchanged a +few words with her Portuguese maids of honour, the King being too +thoughtful to attend to her;—altogether not very merry. + +In the barge immediately following, certain of the King’s favourites +made sport of the Queen’s foretop,—turned aside very strangely,—of the +monstrous fardingales and olivada complexions and unagreeable voices of +her Portuguese ladies,—and of the old knight, her friend, whose bald +pate was covered by a huge lock of hair, bound on by a thread, very +oddly. The King’s gravity also made a good joke; and there was an +amusing incident of a boat being upset, which furnished laughter for a +full half hour. A family of Presbyterians, turned out of a living +because the King had broken his word, were removing their chattels to +some poor place on the other side of the river, and had unawares got +their boat entangled in the procession, and were run down by a royal +barge. It was truly laughable to see first the divine, and then his +pretty daughters, with their dripping long hair, picked up from the +water, while all their little wealth went to the bottom: and yet more so +to witness how, when the King, of his bounty, threw gold to the +sufferers, the clergyman tossed it back so vehemently that it would have +struck the Duke of York on the temple, if he had not dexterously +contrived to receive it on the crown of his periwig. It was a charming +adventure to the King’s favourites;—very merry. + +In the mansions by the river side, certain gentlemen from the country +were settling themselves, in preparation for taking office under the +government. They and their fathers had been out of habits of business +for fourscore years, and were wholly incapable of it, and knew +themselves to be so; the best having given themselves to rural +employments, and others to debauchery; but, as all men were now declared +incapable of employment who had served against the King, and as these +cavaliers knew that their chief business was to humour his Majesty, they +made themselves easy about their responsibilities, looked after their +tapestries, plate, and pictures, talked of the toils and cares of +office, and were—very merry. + +In the narrow streets in their neighbourhood might be hourly seen +certain of the King’s soldiers, belted and armed, cursing, swearing, and +stealing; running into public-houses to drink, and into private ones to +carry off whatever they had a mind to; leaving the injured proprietors +disposed to reflect upon Oliver, and to commend him,—what brave things +he did, and how safe a place a man’s own house was in his time, and how +he made the neighbour princes fear him; while now, a prince that came in +with all the love, and prayers, and good-liking of his people, who had +given greater signs of loyalty and willingness to serve him with their +estates than ever was done by any people, could get nothing but contempt +abroad, and discontent at home; and had indeed lost all so soon, that it +was a miracle how any one could devise to lose so much in so little +time. These housekeepers, made sage by circumstance, looked and spoke +with something very little like mirth. Those who had given occasion to +such thoughts were, meantime,—very merry. + +It was not to these merry men, wise people thought, that the King must +look for help in the day of war, but to the soldiers of the republican +army, who had been declared by act of parliament for evermore incapable +of serving the kingdom. But where were these men to be found, if wanted? +Not one could be met with begging in the streets to tell how his +comrades might be reached. One captain in the old parliament army was +turned shoemaker, and another a baker. This lieutenant was now a +haberdasher; that a brewer. Of the common soldiers, some were porters, +and others mechanics in their aprons, and husbandmen in their frocks, +and all as quiet and laborious as if war had never been their +occupation. The spirits of these men had been trained in contentment +with God’s providences; and though, as they sat at the loom and the +last, they had many discontented thoughts of man’s providences, it was +clear to observers among the King’s own servants that he was a thousand +times safer from any evil meant by them than from his own unsatisfied +and insatiable cavaliers. While the staid artizans who had served under +Cromwell looked out upon the river as the procession passed, they +dropped a few words in their families about the snares of the Evil One, +and were—not very merry. + +Within hearing of the ordnance in which the young gallants of the court +delighted was an hospital, meagrely supplied with the comforts which its +inmates required, where languished, in a crowded space, many of the +soldiers and sailors who had been set up to be fired at while it was +known in high quarters that there was such a deficiency of ammunition as +must deprive the poor fellows of the power of effectual self-defence. +This fact had become known, and it had sunk deep into the souls of the +brave fellows who, maimed, feverish, and heart-sore,—in pain for want of +the proper means of cure, and half suffocated from the number of their +fellow-sufferers, listened with many a low-breathed curse to the peals +of ordnance that shook their crazy place of refuge, and forswore mirth +and allegiance together. + +Within hearing of the shouts and of a faint occasional breath of music +from the royal band, were certain of the two thousand clergy, who were +to resign their livings the next morning, and whose families were taking +advantage of the neighbourhood being deserted for the day to remove +their furniture, and betake themselves to whatever place they might have +found wherein the righteous could lay his head. Dr. Reede was one of +these. He had been toiling all day with his wife, demolishing the _tout +ensemble_ of comfort which had been formed under her management. He was +now, while she was engaged with her infants, sitting alone in his study +for the last time. He was doing nothing; for his business in this place +was closed. He let his eye be amused by the quick flickering in the +breeze of the short, shining grass of his little court, which stretched +up to his window. The dark formal shrubs, planted within the paling by +his own hand, seemed to nod to him as the wind passed over their heads. +The summer flowers in the lozenge-shaped parterres which answered to +each other, danced and kissed unblamed beneath the Rev. Doctor’s gaze. +All looked as if Nature’s heart were merry, however sad might be those +of her thoughtful children. The Doctor stepped out upon the grass. There +was yet more for him to do there. He had, with his own hands, mowed the +plat, and clipped the borders; and the little hands of the elder of his +two children had helped to pluck out the very few weeds that had sprung +up. But the weather had been warm and dry, and, in order to leave the +place in the beauty desired by its departing tenant, it was necessary to +water the flower-court. It was not a very inspiriting thing to glance at +doors and windows standing wide, displaying the nakedness of an empty +dwelling within: so the Doctor hastened to the well to fill his bucket. +Mrs. Reede heard the jingle of the chain, and showed herself at an upper +window, while the child that could walk made her way down stairs with +all speed to help papa, and wonder at her own round little face in the +full bucket. Mrs. Reede was glad that her husband had turned out of his +study, though she could not bring herself to sympathize in his anxiety +to leave all in a state of the greatest practicable beauty. If a gale +had torn up the shrubs, or the hot sun of this summer day had parched +the grass and withered the flowers, she did not think she could have +been sorry. But it was very well that her husband had left his study +open for the further operations necessary there. This room had remained +the very last in its entireness. The time was now come when she must +have asked her husband to quit his chair and desk, and let his books be +dislodged. She would make haste to complete the work of spoliation, and +she hoped he would make a long task of watering the flower-court. + +He was not likely to do that when he had once perceived that she and one +of her damsels were lifting heavy loads of books, while another was +taking care of the baby. He hastened to give their final draught to his +favourite carnations, placed a chair for Esther on the grass just +outside the window, where she might sit with the infant, and, while +resting herself, talk to him as he finished her laborious task. + +Mrs. Reede did not remember to have ever started so incessantly at the +sound of guns; and the air-music of the window-harp that she had seen in +the pavilions of great men’s gardens had never come so mournfully over +her spirit as the snatches of harmony that the wind now brought from the +river to make her infant hold up his tiny finger while his sister said +“hark!” She was, for once, nervous. It might be seen in her flushed face +and her startled movements; and the poor baby felt it in the absence of +the usual ease with which he was held and played with. A sharp sudden +cry from him called the attention of the doctor from his task. In a +moment, mamma’s grief was more tumultuous than the infant’s. + +“O, my child! my child! I have hurt my child! my own little baby!” cried +she, weeping bitterly, and of course redoubling the panic of the little +one. + +“My dear love,” said her husband, trying to prove to her that the baby +had only been frightened by a jerk; “my dear love, you alarm yourself +much more than the child. See!” and he held up in the evening sunlight +the brass plate on which his study lamp stood. Its glittering at once +arrested the infant’s terrors: but not so soon could the tears of the +mother be stopped. + +“My love, there must be some deeper cause than this trifling accident,” +said he, sitting down on the low window sill beside her chair. “Is it +that you have pent up your grief all day, and that it will have way?” + +Mrs. Reede had a long train of sad thoughts to disclose, in the +intervals of her efforts to compose herself. The children, she said, +amused themselves as if nothing was the matter; while who could tell +what they might think hereafter of being thus removed from a fair and +honourable home, and carried where—O, there was no telling what lot +might await them! If everybody had thought the sacrifice a right one, +she could have gone through it without any regret: but some of her +husband’s oldest friends thought him wrong—— + +“Towards God, or towards you, my love?” + +"O, towards these children, I suppose. They dare not think that you +would do anything wrong towards me. I am sure I only think of you first, +and then of the children. How you have preached here, with the souls of +your people in your hand, to mould them as you would! and now, you must +go where your gift and your office will be nothing; and you will be only +like any other man. And, as for the children, we do not know——" + +“When the bird leads forth her brood from their warm nest, because +springes are set round about them, does she know what shall befall them? +There may be hawks abroad, or a sharp wind that may be too strong for +their scarce-plumed wings. Or they may gather boldness from their early +flight, and wave in the sunshine on a high bough, and pour out there a +grateful morn and even song from season to season. The parent bird knows +not: but she must needs take them from among the springes, however soft +may be the nest, and cool the mossy tree. We know more than this parent +bird; even that no sparrow falleth unheeded to the ground.” + +Mrs. Reede’s tears began to flow again as another faint breath of music +reached her. + +“Is it that you will be more composed when the sounds of mirth, to us +unseasonable, have passed away?” asked Dr. Reede, smiling. + +“It does seem hard that our spoilers should be making merry while we are +going forth we know not whither,” said the wife. + +“How would it advantage the mother bird that the fowlers should lie +close while she plumes her pinions to be gone? Will she stoop in her +flight for all their mirth? As for us, music may be to us a rare treat +henceforth. Let our ears be pleased with it, whencesoever it may come.” + +And he made the children hearken, till they clapped their little hands, +and their mother once more smiled. Her husband then said to her, + +“If this mirth be ungodly, there is no reason why we should be more +scandalized at it than on any other day, only because we ourselves are +not merry. If it be innocent, we should thank God that others are +happier than ourselves. Yet I am not otherwise than happy in the inward +spirit. I shall never repent this day.” + +"They say you will, when——But it is not as if we stood alone. It is said +that there will be a large number of the separated." + +“Thank God! not for the companionship to ourselves, so much as for the +profit to his righteousness. It will be much to meet here and there eyes +that tell back one’s own story, and to clasp hands that are undefiled by +the world’s lucre. But it is more to know that God’s truth is so hymned +by some thousand tongues this night, that the echo shall last till weak +voices like ours shall be wanted no more.” + +“Let us go,” cried Mrs. Reede, dispersing her last tears, and lifting up +one child while the other remained in her husband’s arms. He took +advantage of her season of strength, and resolved to convey her at once +to the humble lodging which was to be their present abode, and to return +himself to see that all was done. He detained her only to join him in a +brief thanksgiving for the happiness they had enjoyed there since their +marriage day, and to beseech a blessing on him who was to succeed to the +dwelling and to the pastoral office. Courageous as was Mrs. Reede’s +present mood, she was still at the mercy of trifles. The little girl’s +kitten would not bear them company. It had been removed twice, and had +returned, and now was not to be found. It had hidden itself in some +corner whence it would come out when they were gone; and the child +departed in a very unchristian state of distress. Her mamma found that +both she and her child had yet to learn Dr. Reede’s method of not +fretting because of evil-doers. + +Though he could not trouble himself with personal resentments, no man +could more strenuously rebuke and expose guilt,—especially guilt in high +places, which is so much worse than other guilt, in as far as it +desolates a wider region of human happiness. In his farewell discourse, +the next day, he urged some considerations on behalf of society far more +eagerly than he ever asked anything for himself. + +“It is no new thing,” said he, "for men to be required to set their hand +to that which they believe not, or to affirm that they believe that +which they understand no more in the expression than in the essence. It +is no new thing for a mistake to be made as to such protestation, so +that if a man say he believes that a sown field will bear corn, though +he knows not the manner of its sprouting nor the order of its ripening, +he shall be also required to believe a proposition in an unknown tongue, +whereof he knows not even what it is that should be proposed. It is no +new thing that men should start at such a requisition, as a sound-witted +man would start from the shows and babble of the magician; or as a +modest wise man would shrink from appointing the way to a wandering +comet, lest he should unawares bring the orderly heavens to a mighty +wreck. It is no new thing for the searchers of God’s ways to respect his +everlasting laws more than man’s presumptuous bidding: or for Him whom +they serve so to change the face of things to them as to make his +extremest yoke easy, and his heaviest burden light:—to cast a shade over +what must be foregone,—whether it be life itself, or only the goodly +things in which maybe too much of our life hath been found,—or to beam a +light from his own highest heaven on the wilderness-path, which may seem +horrid to those who are not to tread it, but passable enough to such as +must needs take this way to their everlasting home. These things being +not new, are a sign to us recusants of this day not to be in anywise +astonished or dismayed, and also not to allow a dwelling upon the part +we have taken, as if it were any mighty merit to trust to God’s +providence, which waits only to be trusted, or required any marvellous +faith to commit ourselves to Christ’s word, which, if it be Christ’s, +must stand when the heavens themselves shall be dissolved. It behoves us +rather to look to things less clear than these, and more important than +the putting forth of a few of Christ’s meanest shepherds from their +folds;—for whom the chief Shepherd may perhaps find other occasions; +and, if not, they may be well content to lie down among the sheep, +remembering that he once had not where to lay his head. The true +occasion of this day is not to break one another’s hearts with griefs +and tears, (which may but puff out or quench the acceptable fire of the +altar;) but so to fan the new-kindled flame as that it may seize and +consume whatsoever of foul and desecrating shows most hideous in its +light. Is it not plain that powers whose use is ushered in with prayers, +and alternated with the response of God’s most holy name,—the powers of +government,—are used to ensnare those who open their doors to whatsoever +cometh in that name? It is well that governments should be thus +sanctified to the ears and eyes of the governed; for, if there be a +commission more certainly given straight from the hand of God than +another it is that of a ruler of men. Who but he opens the eyes of the +blind, and unstops the ears of the deaf, and sets the lame on his feet, +and strengthens together the drooping heart and the feeble knees,—by +setting before the one the radiant frame of society in all its fitness, +and waking up for another the voices of human companionship, and +compacting the powers of the weak with those of the strong, and cheering +all by warding off injury from without, and making restraint easy where +perchance it may gall any of those who are within? Sacred is the power +of the ruler as a trust; but if it be used as a property, where is its +sanctity? If the steward puts out the eyes that follow him too closely, +and ties the tongue that importunes, and breaks the limbs of the strong +man in sport, so as to leave him an impotent beggar in the porch of the +mansion,—do we not know from the Scripture what shall be the fate of +that steward? As it is with a single ruler, so shall it be with a +company of rulers,—with a government which regards the people only as +the something on which itself must stand, which takes bread from the +children to give it to dogs; which sells God’s gifts to them that are +without, at the risk of such utter blindness that they shall weary +themselves to find the door out of their perplexities and terrors. What +governments there be that commit the double sin of lording it over +consciences, (which are God’s heritage,) and of ruling for their own low +pleasures instead of the right living and moving of the people, judge +ye. If there be any which mismanage its defence, and deny or pervert +justice, and refuse public works, and make the church a scandal, and the +court a spectacle for angels to weep over and devils to resort to, and, +instead of speeding the people’s freedom with the wings of knowledge, +shut them into the little cells of ancient men’s wits, it is time that +such should know why God hath made them stewards, and should be alarmed +for the coming of their Master. It is not for the men and maid-servants +to wrest his staff from his hands, or to refuse his reasonable bidding, +or to forsake, the one his plough, and the other his mill, and the +maidens to spread the table: but it is for any one to give loud warning +that the Master of the house will surely demand an account of the +welfare of his servants. Such a warning do I give; and such is the +warning spoken by the many mourners of this day, who, because they +honour the kingly office as the holiest place of the fair temple of +society, and kingly agents as the appointed priesthood, can the less +bear to see the nation outraged as if there were no avenging angel of +Jehovah flying abroad; and comfortless in their miseries, as if Jehovah +himself were not in the midst of them." + +It was well that Dr. Reede felt that he could bear the pillory. He was +pilloried. + + + + + --------------------- + + + + + THIRD AGE. + + +History is silent as to the methods by which men were enabled to endure +the tedium of journeys by the heavy coaches of the olden time. The +absence of all notion of travelling faster might, indeed, be no +inconsiderable aid,—an aid of which travellers are at present, for the +most part, deprived; since the mail-coach passenger, the envy of the +poor tenant of the carrier’s cart, feels envy, in his turn, of the +privileged beings who shoot along the northern rail-road; while they, +perhaps, are sighing for the time when they shall be able to breakfast +at one extremity of the kingdom, and dine at the other. When once the +idea of not going fast enough enters a traveller’s mind, _ennui_ is +pretty sure to follow; and it may be to this circumstance that the +patience of our forefathers, under their long incarceration on the road, +was owing—if patience they had. Now, a traveller who is too much used to +journeying to be amused, as a child is, by the mere process of +travelling, is dismayed alike if there be a full number of passengers, +and if there be none but himself. In the first case, there is danger of +delay from the variety of deposits of persons and goods; and in the +second, there is an equal danger of delay from the coachman having all +his own way, and the certainty, besides, of the absence of all +opportunity of shaking off the dulness of his own society. + +Mr. Reid, a sociable young barrister, who had never found himself at a +loss on a journey, was left desolate one day last summer when he least +expected it. He had taken his wife and child down to the south, in order +to establish them by the sea-side for a few weeks; and he was now +travelling up to town by the stage-coach, in very amusing company, as he +thought, for the first stage, but presently in solitude. Supposing that +his companions were going all the way, he took his time about making the +most of them, and lost the opportunity. There was a sensible farmer, who +pointed right and left to the sheep on the downs—green downs—retiring in +long sweeps from the road; and he had much to relate of the methods of +cultivation which had been pursued here, there, and everywhere,—with the +Barn Field, and Rick Mead, and Pond-side Field, and Brook Hollow, and +many other pretty places that he indicated. He had also stores of +information on the farmer’s favourite subject of complaint—the state of +the poor. He could give the history of all the well-meant attempts of my +lord this, and my lady that, and colonel the other, to make employment, +and institute prizes of almshouses, and induce their neighbours to lay +out more on patches of land than less helpless folks would think it +worth while to bestow. Meantime, a smart young lady in the opposite +corner was telling her widowed chaperon why she could not abide the +country, and would not be tempted to leave dear London any more,—namely, +that the country was chalky, and whitened the hems of all her +petticoats. The widow, in return, assured the unbelieving girl that the +country was not chalky all over the world, and that she had actually +seen, with her own eyes, the junction of a white, a red, and a black +road,—very convenient, as one might choose one’s walk by the colour of +one’s gown. The widow at the same time let fall her wish to have the +charge—merely for the sake of pleasant occupation—of the household of a +widower, to whose daughters she could teach everything desirable; +especially if they were intended to look after dairy and poultry-yard, +and such things. + +“Thank’ee, ma’am,” said the farmer, as she looked full at him; “my +daughters are some of them grown up; and they have got on without much +teaching since their mother died.” + +Mr. Reid promised himself to gain more information about the widow’s +estimate of her own capabilities; but she and her charge were not yet +going to “dear London.” They got out at the first country town, just +after the farmer had thrust himself half out of the window to stop the +coach, flung himself on the stout horse that was waiting for him at the +entrance of a green lane, and trotted off, with a prodigious exertion of +knee, elbow, and coat-flap. + +Mr. Reid had soon done thinking of the widow, and of the damsel who had +displayed so intimate a knowledge of rural life. Pauperism lasted +longer; but this was only another version of a dismal story with which +he was already too well acquainted. He was glad to think of something +else. He found that he got most sun by riding backward, and most wind by +riding forward, and made his election in favour of the latter. He +discovered, after a momentary doubt, that his umbrella was safe, and +that there was no occasion to trouble his knees any longer with his +great-coat. He perceived that the coach had been new-lined, and he +thought the lace suited the lining uncommonly well. He wondered whether +the people would be as confoundedly long in changing horses at every +stage as they had been at the first. It would be very provoking to +arrive in town too late for dinner at G——’s. Ah! the women by the road- +side found it a fine day for drying the linen they had washed. How it +blew about, flapping, with a noise like mill-sails; big-sleeved +pinafores and dancing stockings! This was a pretty country to live in: +the gentlemen’s houses were sufficiently sheltered, and the cottages had +neat orchards behind them; and one would think pains had been taken with +the green lanes—just in the medium as they were between rankness and +bareness. What an advantage roads among little hills have in the clear +stream under the hedge,—a stream like this, dimpling and oozing, now +over pebbles, and now among weeds! That hedge would make a delicious +foreground for a picture,—the earth being washed away from the twisted +roots, and they covered with brown moss, with still a cowslip here and +there nodding to itself in the water as the wind passed by. By the way, +that bit of foreground might be kept in mind for his next paper for the +“New Monthly.” It would be easy to give his subject a turn that would +allow that hedge and its cowslip to be brought in. What had not Victor +Hugo made of a yellow flower, in a scene to which nobody who had read it +would need a second reference! But this well, to the left, was even +better than the hedge: it must have been described already; for it +looked as if put there for the purpose. What a damp nook in the hedge it +stood in, with three old yews above it, and tufts of long grass to +fringe the place! What a well-used chain and ladle, and what merry, +mischievous children, pushing one another into the muddy pool where the +drippings fell, and splashing each other, under pretence of drinking! He +was afraid of losing the impression of this place, so much dusty road as +he had to pass through, and so many new objects to meet before he could +sit down to write; unless, indeed, he did it now. Why should not he +write his paper now? It was a good idea—a capital thought! + +Three backs of letters and a pencil were presently found, and a flat +parcel in one of the window-pockets, which served as a desk, when the +feet were properly planted on the opposite seat. The lines were none of +the straightest, at first; and the dots and stops wandered far out of +their right places; while the long words looked somewhat hieroglyphical. +But the coach stopped; and Mr. Reid forgot to observe how much longer it +took than before to change horses while he was the only passenger. He +looked up only once, and then saw so charming an old granny, with her +little Tommy, carrying a toad-in-a-hole to the baker’s, that he was +rewarded for his momentary idleness, and resolved to find a place for +them too, near the well and the mossy hedge. + +He was now as sorry to be off again as before to stop. The horses were +spirited, and the road was rough. His pencil slipped and jerked, this +way and that. Presently his eyes ached: his ideas were jostled away. It +was impossible to compose while the manual act was so troublesome; it +was nonsense to attempt it. Nothing but idleness would do in travelling; +so the blunted pencil was put by, and the eye was refreshed once more +with green. + +But now a new sort of country was opening. The hedges were gone, and a +prodigious stretch of fallow on either hand looked breezy and pleasant +enough at first; and the lark sprang from the furrow so blithely, that +Reid longed to stop the coach, that he might hear its trilling. But the +lark could not be heard, and was soon out of sight; and the perspective +of furrows became as wearying as making pothooks had been. Reid betook +himself to examining the window-pockets. There were two or three tidy +parcels for solicitors, of course; and a little one, probably for a +maid-servant, as there were seven lines of direction upon it. The scent +of strawberries came from a little basket, coolly lined with leaves, and +addressed to Master Jones, at a school in a town to be presently passed +through. Reid hoped, for the boy’s sake, that there was a letter too; +and he found an interstice, through which he could slip half-a-dozen +burnt almonds, which had remained in his pocket after treating his own +child. What speculations there would be, next holiday time, about how +the almonds got in! Two or three other little parcels were disregarded; +for among them lay one of more importance to Reid than all the +rest,—three newspapers, tied round once with a bit of red tape, and +directed, in pencil, to be left at the Blue Lion till called for. Reid +took the liberty of untying the tape, and amusing himself with the +precious pieces of type that had fallen in his way. There was little +political intelligence in these papers, and that was of old date; but a +little goes a great way with a solitary traveller; and when the better +parts of a newspaper are disposed of, enough remains in the drier parts +to employ the intellect that courts suggestion. That which is the case +with all objects on which the attention is occupied, is eminently the +case with a newspaper—that whatever the mind happens to be full of there +receives addition, and that the mood in which it is approached there +meets with confirmation. Reid had heard much from the farmer of the +hardships which individuals suffer from a wasteful public expenditure; +and his eye seemed to catch something which related to this matter, to +whatever corner of the papers it wandered. + +"STRIKE AT ****** PALACE.—_All the workmen at present employed on this +extensive structure ceased work on the appearance of the contractor +yesterday morning. Their demand for higher wages being decidedly refused +by him, the men quitted the spot, and the works have since remained +deserted. A considerable crowd gathered round, and appeared disposed to +take part with the workmen, who, it is said, have for some time past +been arranging a combination to secure a rise of wages. The contractor +declares his intention to concede no part of the demand._" + +The crowd taking part with the workmen! Then the crowd knows less than +the workmen what it is about. These wages are paid by that very crowd; +and it is because they issue from the public purse that the workmen +think they may demand higher wages than they would from a nobleman or +private gentleman. The contractor is but a medium, as they see, between +the tax-payers and themselves; and the terms of the contract must depend +much on the rate of wages of those employed. I hope the contractor will +indeed concede nothing; for it is the people that must overpay +eventually; and it has been too long taken for granted that the public +must pay higher for everything than individuals. I should not wonder if +these men have got it into their heads, like an acquaintance of mine in +the same line, that, as they are taxed for these public buildings, they +have a right to get as much of their money back as they can, forgetting +that if every taxed person did the same, there would be no palace +built;—not but that we could spare two or three extremely well;—or +might, at least, postpone some of the interminable alterations and +embellishments, with an account of which the nation is treated, year +after year, in return for its complaisance in furnishing the cash. Let +their Majesties be nobly lodged, by all means; and, moreover, gratified +in the exercise of tastes which are a thousand times more dignified than +those of our kings in the days of cloth of gold, and more refined than +those of monarchs who could make themselves exceedingly merry at the +expense of their people. The test, after all, is—What is necessary for +the _support_ of the administrating body, and what upholds mere _pomp_? +These are no days for public pomp. In one sense, the time for it is gone +by; in another sense, it is not come;—that is, we ought now to be men +enough to put away such childish things; and, we cannot yet afford them. +Two or three noble royal palaces, let alone when once completed, are, in +my mind, a proper support to the dignity of the sovereign. As for half- +a-dozen, if they do not make up a display of disgraceful pomp, the +barbaric princes of the East are greater philosophers than I take them +for. Yes, yes; let the sovereign be nobly lodged; but let it be +remembered that noble lodgings are quite as much wanted for other +parties. + +"_Mr. ——’s motion was lost without a division._" + +Aye: just so. The concentrated essence of the people, as the House of +Commons pretends to be, must put up with a sordid lodging, however many +royal palaces England may boast. They are not anything so precious as +they pretend to be, or they would not so meanly exclude themselves from +their right. They might just as faithfully consult the dignity of the +empire by making the King and Queen live in a cottage of three rooms, as +by squeezing themselves into a house where there is neither proper +accommodation for their sittings, nor for the transaction of their +business in Committees, nor for witnessing, nor for reporting their +proceedings. I thought my wife quite right in saying that she would +never again undergo the insult of being referred to the ventilators; and +I have determined twenty times myself that I would despise the gallery +so utterly that I would never set foot in it again: yet to the gallery I +still go; and I should not wonder if my wife puts away, for once or +twice, her disgust at inhaling smoke and steam, and her indignation at +being permitted to watch the course of legislation only through a +pigeon-hole and a grating. The presence of women there, in spite of such +insults, is a proof that they are worthy of being treated less like nuns +and more like rational beings; and the greater the rush and consequent +confusion in the gallery, the more certain is it that there are people +who want, and who eventually will have the means of witnessing the +proceedings of their legislators. But all this is nothing to the +importance of better accommodation to the members. Of all extraordinary +occasions of being economical, that is the most strange which impairs +the exertions of the grand deliberative assembly of the nation,—the most +majestic body, if it understood its own majesty,—within the bounds of +the empire. Why,—every nobleman should be content with one house, and +every private gentleman be ashamed of his stables and kennels, rather +than that the House of Commons should not have a perfect place of +assemblage. I verily believe that many a poor man would willingly give +his every third potato towards thus aiding the true representation of +his interests. It would be good economy in him so to do, if there was +nothing of less consequence to be sacrificed first. But King, Lords, and +Commons are not the only personages who have a claim on the public to be +well housed, for purposes of social support, not pomp. + +"_Yesterday morning, Andrew Wilson underwent the sentence of the law, +&c. &c. Though only twenty years of age, he was old in guilt, having +been committed for his first offence,—throwing stones at the police,—- +when he was in his thirteenth year. He is supposed to have been for some +time connected with a gang of desperate offenders; but nothing could be +extracted from him relative to his former associates, though the +reverend chaplain of the jail devoted the most unremitting attention to +the spiritual concerns of the unhappy man._" + +So this is the way we tend the sick children of the great social family, +because, forsooth, with all our palaces, we cannot afford a proper +infirmary! As soon as symptoms of sickness appear, we thrust all our +patients together, to make one another as much worse as possible, and +when any one is past hope, we take credit for our humanity in stuffing +him with remedies which come too late. To look at our prisons, one would +think that we must be out in our Christian chronology. That among the +many mansions of the social edifice, room cannot be found for those who +have the strongest claim of all on our pitying love and watchful +care,—what a scandal this is may be most fully comprehended by those who +have passed from the loathsome confusion of the greater number of our +prisons to the silence and rigid order of the very few in which a better +system has been tried. There are persons to press the argument that +while many of our honest poor, in London and in the factory districts, +are crowded together, six or seven families in the same apartment, it +cannot be expected that the guilty should be better accommodated. But +these same honest poor,—trebly honest if they can remain so under such a +mode of living,—may well be as glad as other people that the prisoner +should be doomed to the solitude which their poverty denies to them. +These same honest poor are taxed to pay for the transportation of +multitudes of the guilty, and for the idleness of all: while the +incessant regeneration of crime through our prison methods affords but a +melancholy prospect of augmented burdens on their children’s children +for similar purposes. In this point of view alone, how dearly has the +public paid for the destruction of this Andrew Wilson, and for the +offences of the gang he belongs to! Committed in his childhood for the +childish fault of throwing stones, kept in a state of expensive idleness +for want of an apparatus of labour, thrown into an atmosphere of +corruption for want of room to insulate him, issuing forth as a vagabond +to spread the infection of idleness and vice, and being brought back to +be tried and hanged at the nation’s expense, after he had successfully +qualified others for claiming from the public the expense of +transportation,—would not the injured wretch have been more profitably +maintained through a long life at the public expense? Would it not have +answered better to the public purse to give him an establishment, on +condition of his remaining harmless? If no Christian considerations are +strong enough to rouse us to build new jails, or to transmute the spare +palaces of the educated and the honoured into penitentiaries for the +ignorant and forlorn, there may be calculable truths,—facts of pounds, +shillings, and pence,—which may plead on behalf of the guilty against +the system of mingled parsimony and extravagance by which guilt is +aggravated at home, and diffused abroad, and the innocent have to pay +dear for that present quiet which insures a future further invasion of +their security. Every complainant who commits a young offender to +certain of our jails knows, or may know, that he thereby burdens the +public with a malefactor for life, and with all who will become +criminals by his means. What wonder that the growing chances of impunity +become a growing inducement to crime? There is no occasion to “provide +criminals with port wine and Turkey-carpets;” but there would be more +sense and better economy in this extreme,—if insulation were +secured,—than in the system which remains a reproach to the head and +heart of the community. Ah! here are a few hints as to one of the +methods by which we contrive to have so many young offenders upon our +hands. + +“_John Ford, a publican, was fined for having music in his house, &c. +&c._” + +“_Two labourers, brothers, named White, were charged with creating a +disturbance in the neighbourhood of the residence of Sir L. M. N. O., +who has lately enforced his right of shutting up the foot-path, &c. +&c._” + +“_The number of boats which passed under Putney Bridge from noon to +sunset on a Sunday in summer, was computed by the informant of the right +reverend bishop to exceed, &c. &c._” + +"_The witness stated that he saw the two prisoners that morning in the +Albany Road, Regent’s Park, selling the unstamped publications which +were now produced. He purchased a copy from each of them, and took the +vendors into custody. The magistrates committed the prisoners to the +House of Correction for one month each, and thrust the forfeited papers +into the fire. The prisoners were then removed from the bar, laughing._“ + +”_On the discussion, last night, relative to the throwing open of the +Museum, we have to observe, &c. &c._“ + +”_The prisoner related that his dog having, on a former occasion, +brought a hare to him in a similar manner, the gamekeeper had ordered +the animal to be shot. The prisoner’s son had then contrived to secrete +it; but he could assure the magistrates that the animal should be +immediately sacrificed if he might be spared the ruin of being sent to +prison._" + +Considering that one of the great objects of government is the security, +and another the advancement, of the people, it seems as if one of the +expenses of government should be providing useful and innocent amusement +for the people. All must have something to do in the intervals of their +toils; and as the educated can find recreations for themselves, it +behoves the guardians of the public to be especially careful in +furnishing innocent amusements to those who are less fitted to choose +their pleasures well. But where are the public grounds in which the poor +of our large towns may take the air, and exercise themselves in games? +Where are the theatres, the museums, the news-rooms, to which the poor +may resort without an expense unsuited to their means? What has become +of the principle of Christian equality, when a Christian prelate murmurs +at the poor man’s efforts to enjoy, at rare intervals, the green +pastures and still waters to which a loving shepherd would fain lead +forth all his flock; and if any more tenderly than others, it would be +such as are but too little left at large? Our administrators are careful +enough to guard the recreations of those who, if deprived of them, are +in the least danger of being driven to guilty excitements. The rich who +can have music and dancing, theatres, picture-galleries and museums, +riding in the parks, and walking in the fields any day of the week, +hunting and boating, journeying and study, must also have one more, at +whatever expense of vice and misery to their less favoured neighbours, +and at whatever cost to society at large. Yes; their game must be +protected, though the poor man must not listen in the public-house to +the music which he cannot hire, nor read at home almost the only +literature that he can buy. He must destroy his cherished dog, if it +happens to follow a hare; and must take his evening walk in the dusty +road if a powerful neighbour forbids him the quiet, green footway. Thus +we drive him to try if there is no being merry at the beer-shop, and if +he cannot amuse himself with his dog in the woods at night, since he +must not in the day. Thus we tempt him to worse places than a cheap +theatre would be. Thus we preach to him about loving and cherishing +God’s works, while we shut out some of them from his sight, and wrest +others from his grasp; and, by making happiness and heaven an +abstraction which we deny him the intellect to comprehend, we impel him +to make trial of misery and hell, and by our acts do our best to speed +him on his way, while our weak words of warning are dispersed by the +whirlwind of temptation which we ourselves have raised. If the +administration of penal justice be a grievous burden upon the people, it +must be lightened by a practical respect to that higher justice which +commands that the interests of all, the noble and the mean, the educated +and the ignorant, be of equal importance in the regards of the +administration; so that government shall as earnestly protest against +the slaughter of the poor man’s dog for the sake of the rich man’s +sport, as the prophet of God against the sacrifice of the poor man’s +ewe-lamb for the rich man’s feast. If bible-read prelates preached from +their hearts upon this text, we should never have another little boy +supposing that he was to be a clergyman, because he went out shooting +with his father. Would that such could be persuaded to leave their +partridges and pheasants, and go east and west, to bring down and send +home the winged creatures of other climes, wherewith to delight the eyes +of the ignorant, and to enlarge his knowledge of God’s works! Meantime, +the well-dressed only can enter the Zoological Gardens; and the footman +(who cannot be otherwise than well-dressed) must pull off his cockade +before he may look at that which may open to him some of the glory of +the 104th Psalm. We are lavish of God’s word to the people, but grudging +of his works. We offer them the dead letter, withholding the spirit +which gives life. Yet something is done in the way of genuine homage. +See here!— + +“_Yesterday being the occasion of the annual assemblage of schools in +St. Paul’s * * under the dome * * children sang a hymn * * crowded to +excess * * presence of her Majesty, &c. &c._” + +And here follows an account of certain university prize-givings. We are +not without public education,—badged,—the one to denote charity, the +other endowments. + +If education were what it ought to be,—the breath of the life of the +community,—there would be an end of this childish and degrading badging. +At present, this prodigious display of white tippets and coloured +cockades under the dome of St. Paul’s tells only that, because the whole +of society is not educated at all, a small portion is educated wrong. +There is less to be proud than ashamed of in such an exhibition; and +though the stranger from a comparatively barbarous country may feel his +heart swell as that mighty infant voice chaunts its hymn of praise, the +thoughts of the meditative patriot will wander from these few elect to +the multitudes that are left in the outer darkness. Till the state can +show how every parent may afford his children a good education, the +state is bound to provide the means for it; and to enforce the use of +those means by making a certain degree of intellectual competency a +condition of the enjoyment of the benefits of society. Till the state +can appoint to every member a sufficiency of leisure from the single +manual act which, under an extensive division of labour, constitutes the +business of many, it is bound to provide the only effectual antidote to +the contracting and benumbing influences of such servile toil. + +Till knowledge ceases to be at least as necessary to the happiness of +the state as military skill was to the defence of the Greek Republics, +the state is bound to require of every individual a certain amount of +intellectual ability, as Greece required of her citizens a specified +degree of military skill. Till all these extraordinary things happen, no +pleas of poverty, no mournful reference to the debt, no just murmurs +against the pension list, can absolve us from the obligation of framing +and setting in motion a system of instruction which shall include every +child that shall not be better educated elsewhere. Not that this would +be any very tremendous expense. There is an enormous waste of +educational resources already, from the absence of system and co- +operation. Lords and ladies, squires and dames, farmers’ wives, +merchants’ daughters, and clergymen’s sisters, have their schools, +benevolently set on foot, and indefatigably kept up, in defiance of the +evils of insulation and diversity of plan. Let all these be put under +the workings of a well-planned system, and there will be a prodigious +saving of effort and of cost. The private benevolence now operating in +this direction would go very far towards the fulfilment of a national +scheme. What a saving in teachers, in buildings, in apparatus and +materials, and, finally, in badges! There will be no uniform of white +caps and tippets when there is no particular glory to be got by this +species of charity; when none can be found who must put up with the +humiliation for the sake of the overbalancing good. When the whole +people is so well off that none come to receive alms at the sound of the +trumpet, the trumpet will cease to sound. The day may even arrive when +blue gowns and yellow stockings shall excite pity in the beholders no +more, and no widowed parent be compelled to struggle with her maternal +shame at subjecting her comely lad to the mortifications which the young +spirit has not learned to brave. This last grievance, however, lies not +at the nation’s door. It is chargeable on the short-sightedness of an +individual, which may serve as a warning to us whenever we set to work +on our system of national education. It may teach us, by exhibiting the +folly of certain methods of endowment, to examine others; to avoid the +absurdity of bestowing vast sums in teaching plain things in a perplexed +manner, or supposed sciences which have long ceased to be regarded as +such, or other accomplishments which the circumstances of the times do +not render either necessary or convenient. It may lead our attention +from the endowed school to the endowed university, and show us that what +we want, from our gentlemen as well as our poor, is an awakening of the +intellect to objects of immediate and general concern, and not a +compulsion to mental toil which shall leave a man, after years of +exemplary application, ignorant of whatever may make him most useful in +society, and may be best employed and improved amidst the intercourses +of the world. Let there remain a tribe of book-worms still; and Heaven +forbid that the classics should fall into contempt! But let scholastic +honours be bestowed according to the sympathies of the many; the many +being meantime so cultivated as that they may arrive at a sympathy with +intellectual toil. With the progress of science, the diffusion of +science becomes necessary. The greater the power of the people to injure +or rebel, the more necessary it is to teach them to be above injuring +and rebelling. The ancient tyrant who hung up his laws written in so +small a character that his people could not read them, and then punished +offenders under pretence that his laws were exhibited, was no more +unjust than we are while we transport and hang our neighbours for deeds +of folly and malice, while we still withhold from them the spirit of +power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Bring public education to the +test, and it will be found that badgery is _pomp_, while universal +instruction is essential to the _support_ of the state. + +A pretty new church that! But I should scarcely have supposed it wanted +while there is a new Methodist meeting-house on one side the way, and +the large old Independent chapel on the other. The little church that +the lady is sketching before it comes down, might have served a while +longer, I fancy, if the necessity had been estimated by the number of +church-goers, and not of souls, in the parish. Whatever may be thought +of the obligation to provide a national scheme of worship after the +manner in which a national scheme of education is certainly a +duty,—however the essential circumstance of distinction is overlooked, +that every member of the state has, without its assistance, +opportunities of worship, while such is not the case with +instruction,—whatever may be thought of the general question of an +ecclesiastical establishment,—it is not pretended by any that its +purposes are answered by the application of its funds to the +augmentation of private fortunes instead of the religious instruction of +the people. Time was when he who presented to a _benefice_ was supposed +to confer a _benefit_ on the people connected with it. Now we have the +public barter of such presentations for gold; and whether most regard be +always paid to the qualifications of the candidate or to the gold he +brings, let the face of the country declare. Meeting-houses springing up +in every village, intelligent artizans going off to one class or another +of Dissenters, while the stolid race of agricultural labourers lounge to +church,—what does this tell but that the religious wants of the people +are better met by the privately-paid than the publicly-paid church? The +people are not religiously _instructed_ by the clergy, as a body. Look +into our agricultural districts, and see what the mere opening of +churches does for the population,—for the dolts who snore round the fire +in the farm-kitchen during the long winter evenings, and the poor +wretches that creep, match in hand, between the doomed stacks, or that +walk firmly to the gibbet under the delusion that their life-long +disease of grovelling vice is cured and sent to oblivion by a few +priestly prayers and three days of spiritual excitement! Look into our +thronged towns, and search in its cellars and garrets, its alleys and +its wider streets, how many dwellers there see the face of their +clergyman, and have learned from his lips the reason of the hope that is +in them,—if such hope there indeed be! They hear that he who holds the +benefice, _i.e._ is appointed their benefactor, is living in London, or +travelling abroad, on the funds which are derived from the people, and +that a curate, found by accident or advertisement, is coming to do the +duty. He may be a religious instructor, in the real sense of the term, +or he may not. If he be, no thanks to his superior, no thanks to the +state, no thanks to the university that bred him! For aught they know or +trouble themselves about, he may be more ignorant than many a mechanic +in his flock, and more indolent than the finest lady who carries her +salts to her cushioned pew. He might have the same virtues that he has +now if he were a dissenting minister; and nobody disputes that nowhere +does virtue more eminently fail of its earthly recompense than in the +church. Nowhere do luxury and indolence more shamelessly absorb the +gains of hardship and of toil. The sum of the whole matter is, that in +the present state of the church, the people pay largely for religious +instruction, which it is a chance whether they obtain. If the same +payment were made by the people direct,—without the intervention of the +state,—they would be sure to demand and receive an equivalent for their +sacrifices. If the people be supposed incapable of thus providing for +their own spiritual wants, it behoves the state to see that those wants +are actually provided for, so that more than half the nation may not be +compelled, through failure of duty in the establishment, to support a +double ministry. No power in earth or heaven can absolve the state from +the obligation, either to leave to its members the management of their +own funds for religious worship and instruction, or to furnish to every +individual the means of learning the Gospel and worshipping his Maker. +The first is a plan which has been elsewhere found to answer full as +well as any we have yet tried. The last can never be attained by merely +opening a sufficiency of churches, and leaving to men’s cupidity the +chance whether the pulpit shall be occupied by an ape or an apostle. + +Have the people got a notion already of such an alternative? + +"TITHES.—PARISH OF C.—_On Monday, the Rev. J. B. H. commenced +distraining for tithes due, &c. &c. On that day there were impounded +above forty cows. The parishioners offered security for the cattle, +which was refused, and they have resolved to let the law take its +course. In the mean time, a large military and police force is stationed +in the vicinity of the pound. Sentinels are regularly posted and +relieved, and the place presents more the appearance of a warlike +district than a country village._" + +Ah! this Rev. J. B. H. takes for his text, perhaps, “I came not to send +peace on earth, but a sword.” The people, it seems, think his claim, +1476_l._, on a valued property of 9000_l._ a year, excessive. But his +advocate declares that no man, acquainted with first principles, can +deny that the Rev. J. B. H. has a legal right to demand and take his +tithes. Be it so! But first principles tell just as plainly that it is +high time the law was altered:—first principles of humanity to the +clergy themselves, to judge by what comes next. + +"_The subscription for the relief of the families of clergymen in +Ireland proceeds but slowly, though the necessity for it increases with +every passing day. Ladies who have been educated with a view to filling +a highly-respectable station in society may now be seen engaged in the +most laborious domestic offices; while their children are thankful to +accept a meal of potatoes from some of the lowest of their father’s +flock._“ + +”_The widow of an Irish clergyman, middle-aged, is eager to obtain a +situation to superintend the management of the nursery in the family of +a widower, or as useful companion to a lady, or as housekeeper in a +nobleman’s mansion, or as matron in an extensive charitable institution. +She would be willing to make herself useful in any situation not menial, +her circumstances being of an urgent nature.—References to a lady of +rank._“ + +”_A master of arts, in full orders, is desirous of a curacy. He feels +himself equal to a laborious charge; and a speedy settlement is of more +importance than the amount of salary, especially if there be an opening +for tuition._" + +Alas! what a disclosure of misery is here! among a body which the United +Kingdom is taxed to maintain. Poor as the Dissenting clergy may be, as a +body, we hear of no such conflicts in their lot. The poor spirit-broken +clergyman bearing, undeserved by him, the opprobrium belonging to his +church, seeing his gentle wife washing his floor, or striving to patch +up once more the girl’s frock and the boy’s coat; while they, poor +children, peep in at the door of the labourer’s smoky cabin, and rush in +at the first invitation to take a sup of milk or a potatoe! Scraps of +the classics, descriptive of poverty, _will_ run in his head, instead of +gospel consolations of poverty; for the good reason that he was taught +that his classics, and not his choice of poverty, were his title to +preach the gospel. He could find in his heart to inquire further of any +heretical sect, which takes for its rule to employ every one according +to his capacity, and reward him according to his works. However +difficult it might be to fix upon any authority which all men would +agree to be a fitting judge of their capacities and their works, none +would affirm that an educated clergyman is employed according to his +capacities in wandering about helpless amidst the contempt or +indifference of his flock, or that his works are properly rewarded by +the starvation of his family. Then there is the widow of a brother in +the same fruitless ministry! “_Any situation not menial!_” “_Her +circumstances of an urgent nature!_” One poor relation, perhaps, taking +charge of one child, and another of a second; and the third, perhaps, +sent to wear the badge of this lady of rank at a charity-school, that +the widow may be made childless—may advertise herself as “without +incumbrance,” to undertake any situation not menial! Then comes the +curate, eager to undertake more than man can do for as little as man can +live for;—to use his intellectual tools, framed with care, and polished +with long toil, and needing, in their application, all the power of a +philosopher with all the zeal of a saint,—for less than is given to the +artizan who spends his life in the performance of one manual act, or the +clerk, whose whole soul lies in one process of computation! This poor +curate, heart-sick through long waiting, may find employment according +to his capacities, and above them; but, if he be fit for his work, he +will not be rewarded according to it, till those for whom he and his +brethren toil have, directly or indirectly, the distribution of the +recompense. Bring the church, in its turn, to the test. It is certain +that it is made up of pomp and penury; and no power on earth can prove +that it at present yields any support to the state. + +Since the people have no benefit from a state education, and but a +questionable benefit from a state church, how much is spent on their +behalf? Here are tables which look as if they would tell something, +though it requires more wit than mortal man has to make out accurately +how the public accounts really stand. Among all the accommodations +provided for the transaction of public business, one would think a pay- +office might be fixed upon where all public claims should be discharged, +in certain allotted departments; and, among all the servants of +government, working men or sinecurists, one would think some might be +employed in preparing such a document as has never yet been seen among +us—an account of the actual annual expenditure of the public money. But +one may make some approach to the truth in the gross:— + +“_The expenditure for the last year may be calculated, in round numbers, +at upwards of fifty millions._” + +Upon my word, we are a gay nation! If we acted upon the belief held by +some very wise persons, that the business of government might be +conducted at a charge of one per cent. on the aggregate of individual +revenue, this sum total would show us to be rich enough to buy Europe, +and perhaps America to boot. This would give us a national wealth which +it would be beyond Crœsus himself to form a notion of. But we are far +enough from having ourselves governed so cheaply. Let us see how these +fifty millions go:— + + “_To the Public Creditor_ £28,000,000 + _Civil and Pension Lists_ 1,000,000 + _Superannuated and Reduced Allowances of Civil £1,000,000 + Departments_ + _Do. of Military Ditto_ 4,300,000 + _Miscellaneous Charges_ 200,000.” + +Here are thirty-four millions and a half devoted to “non- +effective” expenditure. This is a pretty triumph of _Pomp_ versus +_Support_.—Yes,—pomp: for few will now dare to affirm that our +prodigious wars were necessary to the national defence. They were wars +of pomp which undermined our supports: and, as for the glory thus +gained, our descendants will be ashamed of it long before they have done +paying for it.—As for the other items of non-effective expenditure,—the +smaller they appear by the side of the enormous debt charge, the more +necessity there is for their reduction; since the disproportion +proves,—not their smallness, but its bigness. Though they cannot be +abolished,—though their Majesties must have a household,—though the +other branches of the royal family must be supported,—though retired +soldiers and sailors must be taken care of on their quitting a service +from which it is not easy to turn to any other,—no man will now affirm +that reduction is forever impossible; though the like affirmation was +made before the present government proved its falsehood. That their +Majesties must have a household on a liberal scale is true; but that +there are no sinecures in the royal households remains to be proved. And +if such sinecures there must be, it also remains to be proved that they +would not be equally well filled if they were merely honorary offices. +That the members of the royal family, precluded as they are by their +position from being independent, must submit to be maintained by a +pitying people, is also true. It is a lot so full of mortification, that +a Christian nation will soften the necessity to them to the utmost; +cheerfully paying as much as will support them in decent splendour, but +not so much more as will expose them to the taunts of their supporters. +This regard to their feelings is their due, till their day of +emancipation arrives,—till the customs of society shall allow them the +natural rights of men and women,—the power of social exertion, and the +enjoyment of social independence. Their case, however, is peculiar in +its hardships. No other class in society is precluded from either +enjoying ancestral property or accumulating property for themselves; and +it is too much to expect the nation to approve or to pay for the +infliction of a similar humiliation on any who have not, in their own +persons or in those of their very nearest connexions, served the people +for an otherwise insufficient reward. Let the soldier and sailor who +have sacrificed health or member in the public defence be provided for +by a grateful people; but there is no reason why the descendants of +civil officers, or diplomatists retired from already overpaid services, +should receive among them far more than is afforded to naval and +military pensions together. As for the proportion of these naval and +military pensions to the expenditure for effective defence, it is to be +hoped that a long abstinence from war will rectify,—if they must not be +otherwise rectified,—such enormous abuses as that of the number of +retired soldiers far exceeding that of the employed, and of the expenses +of the non-effective service being considerably greater than the +maintenance of the actual army. Monstrous absurdities! that the +factitiously helpless class should cost the nation more than those who +advance some plea,—more or less substantial,—of civil services, rendered +by themselves or their connexions! that these last should cost the +nation more than the whole body of its maimed, and wounded, and worn-out +defenders! and that these again should cost the nation more than its +actual defenders! What wonder that they from whose toils all these +expenses must be paid talk of a national militia,—of arming themselves, +and dispensing with a standing army? It is no wonder: but when we let +them be as wise as they desire to be, they will perceive that their best +weapons at present are the tongues of their representatives. It has not +yet been tried whether these tongues may not utter a spell powerful +enough to loosen this enormous Dead-Weight from the neck of the nation. + +But how goes the 15,000,000_l._ for actual service? + +“_Of the 15,000,000l. required for active service, three and a half are +expended on the collection of the revenue. Eight and a quarter on +defence. Law and justice swallow up three-quarters of a million. Another +million is required for civil government, and the expenses of +legislation. Diplomacy and the colonial civil service are discharged by +half a million. About half a million is spent on public works. The +remaining odd half million out of the fifteen, is expended on the +management of the debt, and for miscellaneous services,” &c._ + +So we, a most Christian nation, with abundance of Christian prelates, +and a church which is to watch over the state with apostolic care,—we, +strenuous professors of a religion of peace and enlightenment,—spend +eight millions and a quarter on Defence, and——how much on popular +Education? I suppose the latter forms some little item in one of the +smaller accounts, for I can nowhere see it. Eight millions and a quarter +on Defence, and three quarters on Law and Justice! Eight and a quarter +on Defence, and one on Government and Legislation! Eight millions and a +quarter on Defence, and half a million on Public Works! O, +monstrous!—too monstrous a sin to be charged on any ruler, or body of +rulers, or succession of bodies of rulers! The broad shoulders of the +whole civilized world must bear this tremendous reproach:—the world +which has had Christianity in it these eighteen hundred years, and whose +most Christian empire yet lays out more than half its serviceable +expenditure in providing the means of bloodshed, or of repelling +bloodshed! The proportion would be enormous, even if all the other items +were of righteous signification,—if the proper proportion of the three +and a half millions for Collection went to Education; if Law were +simple, and Justice cheap; if the real servants of Government were +liberally paid, and all idle hangers-on shaken off; if there were no +vicious diplomatic and colonial patronage; and no jobbing in the matter +of Public Works. If all else were as it should be, this item might well +make us doubt what age of the world we are living in, and for what +purpose it is that Providence is pleased to humble us by leaving such a +painful thorn of barbarism in the side of our majestic civilization. +Long must it be before it can grow out. Meantime, let us not boast as if +the whole body were sound; or as if we were not performing as humbling +and factitious a duty in paying our defence-taxes as the bondman of old +in following the banner of the cross to the eastern slaughter-field. The +one was the bondman’s duty then; and the other is the citizen’s duty +now; but the one duty is destined to become as obsolete as the +other.—What glory in that day, to reverse the order of expenditure! +Education, Public Works, Government and Legislation, Law and Justice, +Diplomacy, Defence, Dignity of the Sovereign. When this time shall come, +no one can conjecture; but that we shall not always have to pay eight +millions a year for our defence is certain; if the voice of a wise +man,—(which is always the voice of an awakening multitude,)—say true. +“Human intelligence will not stand still: the same impulse that has +hitherto borne it onwards, will continue to advance it yet further. The +very circumstance of the vast increase of expense attending national +warfare has made it impossible for governments henceforth to engage in +it, without the public assent, expressed or implied; and that assent +will be obtained with the more difficulty, in proportion as the public +shall become more generally acquainted with their real interest. The +national military establishment will be reduced to what is barely +sufficient to repel external attack; for which purpose, little more is +necessary than a small body of such kinds of troops as cannot be had +without long training and exercise; as of cavalry and artillery. For the +rest, nations will rely on their militia, and on the excellence of their +internal polity; for it is next to impossible to conquer a people, +unanimous in their attachment to their national institutions.” Nor will +any desire to conquer them while our example of the results of conquest +is before the eyes of nations. Then the newspapers will not have to give +up space to notices of military reviews; and gentry whose names have no +chance of otherwise appearing in print will not have the trouble of +looking for themselves in the list of army promotions. The pomp of +defence will be done away, while the support will remain in the hearts +and hands of the people. + +What a blessed thing it is that as soon as the people do not choose to +pay for pomp, pomp will be done away! What a blessed thing that they +cannot be put out of the question, as Henry VIII.’s people were, by +sending their representatives to the wars as often as they disliked +paying for the King’s gold and silver beards, or the Lady Mary’s fool’s +cap and bells! What a blessing that they can be no longer feared and yet +defied, as when Charles II. did without a parliament because he was +afraid to tell them of the bribes he had taken, and the loans he had +asked, and the cheats he had committed, and the mad extravagance of his +tastes and habits! Here, I see, we are content to pay for + +“_Robes, collars, badges, &c., for Knights of the several Orders._ + +”_Repairing the King’s crown, maces, badges, &c., and gold and silver +sticks._ + +“_Plate to the Secretary of State._ + +”_Plate and various equipage money to the Lord Lieutenant and Lord +Chancellor of Ireland._" + +This is the people’s own doing. No grown man can be supposed to care for +crowns and gold sticks, and robes and collars, in themselves. It is the +people who choose to preserve them as antiquarian curiosities. So be it, +as long as their taste for antiquities takes this turn, and they can +find grown men good-natured enough to dress up to make a show for their +gratification. But, in another reign or two, it will be necessary to +have dolls made to save busy and grave legislators the toil and +absurdity of figuring in such an exhibition; or perhaps cheap theatres +will by that time be allowed, where those who now act pantomimes, will +not be above exhibiting these other mummeries on Christmas nights. +Meantime, if the people choose to have their functionaries surrounded +with pomp and parade, they must pay the purchase money with thanks. +Whenever they shall become disposed to dispense with guards, trappings, +and pageantry, to respect simplicity, and obey the laws for the sake of +something more venerable than maces and wigs, they have only to say so, +and doubtless the King will feel much relieved, and his ministers very +thankful. The laws will work quite as well for the judges looking like +other people; in the same manner as it is found that physicians’ +prescriptions are worth full as much as formerly, though the learned +gentlemen now wear their own hair. We tried this method of simplicity in +our own North American Colonies, less than a century ago. Their total +expenditure was under 65,000_l._ per annum. We shall not have held those +colonies for nothing if we learn from our own doings there how cheap a +thing government may be made, when removed from under the eyes and the +hands of a born aristocracy. + +What a rich, stirring, happy-looking country this is before my eyes, +where the people hold up their heads and smile,—very differently, I +fancy, from what they did when the proud Cardinal made a progress +through it, or when whispers of the sale of Dunkirk circulated in +advance or in the rear of the sovereign who bartered away his people’s +honour! How times are changed, when, instead of complaining that the +King and his Ministers sacrifice the nation to their own pomps and +vanities, the people only murmur at an insufficiency of courage and +despatch in relieving them of the burdens imposed by the mal- +administration of a former age! What a change, from being king-ridden, +courtier-ridden, priest-ridden, minister-ridden, to being,—not king- +ridden, less courtier-ridden, priest-ridden only while it is our +pleasure to be so, and ruled by a ministry, every tittle of whose power +hangs upon the breath of the people! One may bear even the debt, for a +short space, with patience, while blessed with the sober certainty that +the true instrument of rectification,—the responsibility of rulers to +the ruled, is at length actually in our hands. One might almost wish +long life to the sinecure pensioners, and be courteous about the three +millions and a half consumed in tax collecting, if one rested in a +comparison of the present with the past. But there is enough before +one’s eyes to remind one how much remains to be done before the nation +shall receive full justice at the hands of its guardians. By small +savings in many quarters, or by one of the several decided retrenchments +which are yet possible and imperative, some entire tax, with its cost of +collection, might ere this have been spared, and many an individual and +many a family who wanted but this one additional weight to crush them, +might now have been standing erect in their independence. What a list of +advertisements is here! Petitions for relief,—how piteous! Offers of +lodging, of service, literary, commercial, and personal, how eager! What +tribes of little governesses, professing to teach more than their young +powers can possibly have achieved! What trains of servants, vehemently +upholding their own honesty and accomplishments,—the married boasting of +having got rid of their children to recommend themselves to their +employers,—ay, even the mother advertising for sale the nourishment +which God created for her first-born! There is no saying how much of all +this is attributable to the weight of public burdens, or to the mode of +their pressure: but it is enough that this craving for support co-exists +with unnecessary public burdens. It is enough, were the craving +aggravated a thousand-fold, and the needless burden extenuated to the +smallest that could be estimated,—it is enough to prove that no +worthless pensioner,—worthless to the nation at large,—should fill his +snuff-box at the public charge, while a single tax-payer is distressed. +For my part, I have no doubt that many of the cases in this long list of +urgent appeals owe their sorrow to this cause. I have no doubt that many +a young girl’s first grief is the seeing a deeper and a deeper gloom on +her father’s brow, as he fails more and more to bear up against his +share of the public burden, and finds that he must at length bring +himself to the point, and surrender the child he has tenderly nurtured, +and dismiss her to seek a laborious and precarious subsistence for +herself. I have no doubt that many of these boasting servants would have +reserved their own merits to bless their own circle, but for the +difficulty that parents, husbands and brothers find in living on taxed +articles. While these things co-exist with the needless expenditure of a +single farthing, I, for one, shall feel that, however thankful we may +and ought to be for our prodigious advance in freedom and moral dignity, +we have still to pray, day and night, that the cry of the poor and the +mirth of the parasite do not rise up together against us. Too fearful a +retribution must await us, if we suffer any more honest hearts to be +crushed under the chariot wheels of any ‘gay, licentious proud’—who must +have walked barefoot in the mud, if their condition had been determined +by their deserts. + +What place _is_ this? I was not aware that these pretty villas, and +evergreen gardens, and trim causeways stretched to so great a distance +on any London road. Bless me! where can we be? I know that old oak. I +must have been dreaming if we have passed through Croydon without my +perceiving it. I shall be early at G.’s after all. No! not I! It is some +two hours later than I thought. Travelling alone is the best pastime, +after all. I must tie up these newspapers. It is a wonder they have not +been claimed for the Blue Lion yet. + +My wife would say this is just the light for the Abbey; but she has said +so of every light, from the broadest noon sunshine to the glimmer of the +slenderest crescent at midnight. Long may the Abbey stand, quiet amidst +the bustle of moving life, a monitor speaking eloquently of the past, +and breathing low prophecies of the future! It is a far nobler +depository of records than the Tower: for here are brought into +immediate contrast the two tribes of kings,—the sovereigns by physical +force, and the sovereigns by moral force,—the royal Henries, and the +thrice royal Shakspeare and Locke and Wilberforce;—and there remains +also space for some one who perchance may unite the attributes of +all;—who, by doing the highest work of a ruler in making the people +happy, may discharge the commission of a seraph in leading them on to be +wise. Let not the towers totter, nor the walls crumble, till such an one +is there sung to his rest by the requiem of a virtuous people! But the +noblest place of records can never be within four walls, shut in from +the stars. There is one, as ancient, may be, as the Abbey; and perhaps +destined to witness its aisles laid open to the sunrise, and its +monuments to the shifting moonlight,—the old oak that we passed just +now. My wife pities it, standing exposed in its old age to the glare and +the dust, when it was perhaps, in its youth, the centre of a cool, green +thicket. But it is worth living through all things to witness what that +oak has seen. If no prophetic eye were given to men, I think I would +accept the _elixir vitæ_ for a chance of beholding the like. As soon as +that oak had a shade to offer, who came to court it? The pilgrim on his +painful way to the southern shrine,—turning aside to pray that the +helpless might not be ravaged by the spoiler in his absence? The nun who +mourned within her cell, and trembled in God’s sunshine, and passed her +blighted life in this sad alternation? The child who slept on the +turf,—safely, with the adder in the neighbouring grass, and the robber +looking down from the tree in envy of its innocence; innocence which, +after all, was poisoned by a worse fang than the adder’s, and despoiled +by the hand of a ruder bandit,—tyranny?—Who came in a later age?—The +soldier reeking from the battle, and in search of some nook in which to +pray for his little ones and die? The maiden, fleeing from royal lust, +and her father outlawed by royal vengeance? What tales were brought when +the neighbouring stems mouldered away, and left space for the winds to +enter with their tidings from afar? Rumours of heaped battle-fields +across the sea, and of the murmurings of the oppressed in their +comfortless homes, and the indignant remonstrance of captives silenced +in their proclamation of the truth? And then, did weary sailors come up +from the sea, and, while they rested, talk of peace? And merchants of +prosperity? And labourers of better days?—And now that the old oak +yields but a scanty shade,—children come to pick up its acorns, and to +make a ladder of its mouldering sides; and even these infant tongues can +tell of what the people feel, and what the people intend, and what the +King desires for the people, and what the ministers propose for the +people. The old oak has lived to see the people’s day.—O! may the breath +of heaven stir it lightly;—may the spring rains fall softly as the +wintry snow;—may the thunderbolt spare it, and the flash not dare to +crisp its lightest leaf, that it may endure to witness something of that +which is yet to come!—of the wisdom which shall issue sternly from the +abyss of poverty, smoothing its rugged brow as it mounts to a milder and +brighter region; and of pleasure descending from her painted cloud, +sobering her mien as she visits rank below rank, till she takes up her +abode with the lowliest in the form of content. If every stone of yonder +Abbey can be made to murmur like the sea-shell to the awakened ear, +disclosing echoes of the requiems of ages, yet more may this oak whisper +from every leaf its records of individual sorrows, of mutual hopes, and +now of common rejoicing;—a rejoicing which yet has more in it of hope +than of fulfilment. The day of the people is come. The old oak survives +to complete its annals,—the Abbey has place for a record—whether the +people are wise to use their day for the promotion of the great objects +of national association,—public order and social improvement. + +It was too late to dine at G.’s; so Reid turned into the Abbey, and +staid there till his own footfall was the only sound that entertained +the bodily ear. + +_Summary of Principles illustrated in this volume._ + +It is necessary to the security and advancement of a community that +there should be an expenditure of a portion of its wealth for purposes +of defence, of public order, and of social improvement. + +As public expenditure, though necessary, is unproductive, it must be +limited. And, as the means of such expenditure are furnished by the +people for defined objects, its limit is easily ascertained. + +That expenditure alone which is necessary to defence, public order, and +social improvement, is justifiable. + +Such a direction of the public expenditure can be secured only by the +public functionaries who expend being made fully responsible to the +party in whose behalf they expend. + +For want of this responsibility, the public expenditure of an early +age,—determined to pageantry, war, and favouritism,—was excessive, and +perpetrated by the few in defiance of the many. + +For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public expenditure +of an after age,—determined to luxury, war, and patronage,—was +excessive, and perpetrated by the few in fear of the many, by deceiving +and defrauding them. + +For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public expenditure +of the present age,—determined chiefly to the sustaining of burdens +imposed by a preceding age,—perpetuates many abuses: and, though much +ameliorated by the less unequal distribution of power, the public +expenditure is yet as far from being regulated to the greatest advantage +of the many, as the many are from exacting due responsibility and +service from the few. + +When this service and responsibility shall be duly exacted, there will +be— + +Necessary offices only, whose duties will be clearly defined, fully +accounted for, and liberally rewarded: + +Little patronage, and that little at the disposal of the people: + +No pomp,—at the expense of those who can barely obtain support: but + +Liberal provisions for the advancement of national industry and +intelligence. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note + +Hyphens appearing on a line or page break have beem removed if the +preponderance of other occurrences are unhyphenated. Those words +occurring midline are retained regardless of other occurrences. The +following variants were retained: schoolhouse / school-house, grandchild +/ grand-child, eyebrows / eye-brows, evildoers / evil-doers, bedside / +bed-side, headache / head-ache. + +On some occasions, a word spans a line break, but the hyphen itself has +gone missing. These fragments are joined appropriately without further +notice here. + +Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and +are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. + + BRIERY CREEK. + + 26.21 [“]There goes Dods! Removed. + 73.20 if it did not come too late.[”] Added. + 94.5 Dr. Sneyd was very thankf[n/u]l> for his aid. Inverted. + 97.3 she had grown p[ro/or]megranates Transposed. + 101.10 a damsel dressed in tawd[r]y finery Inserted. + 109.10 which must give way.[”] Removed. + 152.3 to be so remembered.[”] Added. + + THE THREE AGES. + 50.27 for his Maje[s]ty’s service was more Inserted. + 55.2 in order to build[ing] a new one Removed. + 97.10 the animal should be immediately sacrifi[c]ed Inserted. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 *** diff --git a/74238-h/74238-h.htm b/74238-h/74238-h.htm index 804d6c4..906adf8 100644 --- a/74238-h/74238-h.htm +++ b/74238-h/74238-h.htm @@ -1,10308 +1,10308 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html>
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-<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***</div>
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- <div>Transcriber’s Note:</div>
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-<p class='c001'>The volume is a collection of three already published texts,
-each with its own title page and pagination.</p>
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-<p class='c001'>Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
-see the transcriber’s <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text
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- <h1 class='c002'>ILLUSTRATIONS <br> <span class='small'>OF</span> <br> POLITICAL ECONOMY.</h1>
-</div>
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-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
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- <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div>
- <div>HARRIET MARTINEAU.</div>
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-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div>——o——</div>
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- <div>BRIERY CREEK.</div>
- <div>THE THREE AGES.</div>
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-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div>——o——</div>
- </div>
-</div>
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-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
- <div><i>IN NINE VOLUMES.</i></div>
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- <div>VOL. VIII.</div>
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-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
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- <div>LONDON:</div>
- <div>CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW.</div>
- <div>MDCCCXXXIV.</div>
- </div>
-</div>
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-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
-<div class='nf-center c004'>
- <div>LONDON:</div>
- <div class='c000'>Printed by <span class='sc'>William Clowes</span>,</div>
- <div class='c000'>Duke-street, Lambeth.</div>
- </div>
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-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_I'>I</span>
- <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS.</h2>
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- <td class='c007' colspan='6'><a href='#v1'>BRIERY CREEK.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'><span class='small'>CHAP.</span></td>
- <td class='c008'> </td>
- <td class='brt c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td>
- <td class='c007'><span class='small'>CHAP.</span></td>
- <td class='c010'> </td>
- <td class='c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>1.</td>
- <td class='c008'>The Philosopher at Home</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.1'>1</a></td>
- <td class='c007'>5.</td>
- <td class='c010'>Introductions</td>
- <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.5'>94</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>2.</td>
- <td class='c008'>The Gentleman at Home</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.2'>22</a></td>
- <td class='c007'>6.</td>
- <td class='c010'>A Father’s Hope</td>
- <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.6'>122</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>3.</td>
- <td class='c008'>Saturday Morning</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.3'>46</a></td>
- <td class='c007'>7.</td>
- <td class='c010'>The End of the Matter</td>
- <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.7'>142</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>4.</td>
- <td class='c008'>Sunday Evening</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.4'>65</a></td>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c010'> </td>
- <td class='c009'> </td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c008'> </td>
- <td class='brt c009'> </td>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c010'> </td>
- <td class='c009'> </td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007' colspan='6'><a href='#v2'>THE THREE AGES..</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c008'> </td>
- <td class='brt c009'> </td>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c010'> </td>
- <td class='c009'> </td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>1.</td>
- <td class='c008'>First Age</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch2.1'>1</a></td>
- <td class='c007'>3.</td>
- <td class='c010'>Third Age</td>
- <td class='c009'><a href='#ch2.3'>93</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c007'>2.</td>
- <td class='c008'>Second Age</td>
- <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch2.2'>35</a></td>
- <td class='c007'> </td>
- <td class='c010'> </td>
- <td class='c009'> </td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_1.01'>01</span>
- <h2 id='v1' class='c005'>BRIERY CREEK.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.1' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter I.</span> <br> <br> THE PHILOSOPHER AT HOME.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>The sun,—the bright sun of May in the western
-world,—was going down on the village of Briery
-Creek, and there was scarcely a soul left within
-its bounds to observe how the shadows lengthened
-on the prairie, except Dr. Sneyd; and Dr. Sneyd
-was too busy to do justice to the spectacle. It
-was very long since letters and newspapers had
-been received from England; the rains had interfered
-with the post; and nothing had been
-heard at the settlement for a month of what the
-minister was planning in London, and what the
-populace was doing in Paris. Dr. Sneyd had
-learned, in this time, much that was taking place
-among the worlds overhead; and he now began
-to be very impatient for tidings respecting the
-Old World, on which he had been compelled to
-turn his back, at the moment when its political
-circumstances began to be the most interesting
-to him. There had been glimpses of starlight in
-the intervals of the shifting spring storms, and he
-had betaken himself, not in vain, to his observatory;
-but no messenger, with precious leathern
-bag, had appeared on the partial cessation of the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.02'>02</span>rains to open, beyond the clouds of the political
-hemisphere, views of the silent rise or sure progress
-of bright moral truths behind the veil of prejudice
-and passion which was for a season obscuring
-their lustre. Day after day had anxious
-eyes been fixed on the ford of the creek; night
-after night had the doctor risen, and looked abroad
-in starlight and in gloom, when the dogs were
-restless in the court, or a fancied horse-tread was
-heard in the grassy road before the house.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This evening Dr. Sneyd was taking resolution
-to file the last newspapers he had received, and to
-endorse and put away the letters which, having
-been read till not an atom more of meaning could
-be extracted from them, might now be kept in
-some place where they would be safer from friction
-than in a philosopher’s pocket. The filing
-the newspapers was done with his usual method
-and alacrity, but his hand shook while endorsing
-the last of his letters; and he slowly opened the
-sheet, to look once more at the signature,—not
-from sentiment, and because it was the signature
-(for Dr. Sneyd was not a man of sentiment),—but
-in order to observe once again whether there
-had been any such tremulousness in the hand
-that wrote it as might affect the chance of the
-two old friends meeting again in this world: the
-chance which he was unwilling to believe so
-slight as it appeared to Mrs. Sneyd, and his son
-Arthur, and every body else. Nothing more was
-discoverable from the writing, and the key was
-resolutely turned upon the letter. The next
-glance fell upon the materials of a valuable telescope,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.03'>03</span>which lay along one side of the room,
-useless till some glasses should arrive to replace
-those which had been broken during the rough
-journey to this remote settlement. Piece by piece
-was handled, fitted, and laid down again. Then
-a smile passed over the philosopher’s countenance
-as his eye settled on the filmy orb of the moon,
-already showing itself, though the sun had not
-yet touched the western verge of the prairie. It
-was something to have the same moon to look
-at through the same telescopes as when he was
-not alone in science, in the depths of a strange
-continent. The face of the land had changed;
-he had become but too well acquainted with the
-sea; a part of the heavens themselves had passed
-away, and new worlds of light come before him
-in their stead; but the same sun shone in at the
-south window of his study; the same moon
-waxed and waned above his observatory; and he
-was eager to be once more recognising her volcanoes
-and plains through the instrument which
-he had succeeded in perfecting for use. This
-reminded him to note down in their proper places
-the results of his last observations; and in a single
-minute, no symptom remained of Dr. Sneyd having
-old friends whom he longed to see on the
-other side of the world; or of his having suffered
-from the deferred hope of tidings; or of his feeling
-impatient about his large telescope; or of any
-thing but his being engrossed in his occupation.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Yet he heard the first gentle tap at the south
-window, and, looking over his spectacles at the
-little boy who stood outside, found time to bid
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.04'>04</span>him come in and wait for liberty to talk. The
-doctor went on writing, the smile still on his
-face, and Temmy,—in other words, Temple Temple,
-heir of Temple Lodge,—crept in at the window,
-and stole quietly about the room to amuse
-himself, till his grandfather should be at liberty
-to attend to him. While the pen scratched the
-paper, and ceased, and scratched again, Temmy
-walked along the bookshelves, and peeped into
-the cylinder of the great telescope, and cast a
-frightened look behind him on having the misfortune
-to jingle some glasses, and then slid into
-the low arm-chair to study for the hundredth
-time the prints that hung opposite,—the venerable
-portraits of his grandfather’s two most intimate
-friends. Temmy had learned to look on
-these wise men of another hemisphere with much
-of the same respect as on the philosophers of a
-former age. His grandfather appeared to him
-incalculably old, and unfathomably wise; and it
-was his grandfather’s own assurance that these
-two philosophers were older and wiser still. When
-to this was added the breadth of land and sea
-across which they dwelt, it was no wonder that,
-in the eyes of the boy, they had the sanctity of
-the long-buried dead.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Where is your grandmamma, Temmy?” asked
-Dr. Sneyd, at length, putting away his papers.
-“Do you know whether she is coming to take a
-walk with me?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I cannot find her,” said the boy. “I went all
-round the garden, and through the orchard——”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And into the poultry yard?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.05'>05</span>“Yes; and every where else. All the doors
-are open, and the place quite empty. There is
-nobody at home here, nor in all the village, except
-at our house.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“All gone to the squirrel-hunt; or rather to
-meet the hunters, for the sport must be over by
-this time; but your grandmamma does not hunt
-squirrels. We must turn out and find her. I
-dare say she is gone to the Creek to look for the
-postman.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy hoped that all the squirrels were not
-to be shot. Though there had been far too many
-lately, he should be sorry if they were all to disappear.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You will have your own two, in their pretty
-cage, at any rate, Temmy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy’s tearful eyes, twisted fingers, and
-scarlet colour, said the “no” he could not speak
-at the moment. Grandpapa liked to get at the
-bottom of every thing; and he soon discovered
-that the boy’s father had, for some reason unknown,
-ordered that no more squirrels should be
-seen in his house, and that the necks of Temmy’s
-favourites should be wrung. Temmy had no
-other favourites instead. He did not like to
-begin with any new ones without knowing
-whether he might keep them; and he had not
-yet asked his papa what he might be permitted
-to have.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We must all have patience, Temmy, about
-our favourites. I have had a great disappointment
-about one of mine.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.06'>06</span>Temmy brushed away his tears to hear what
-favourites grandpapa could have. Neither cat,
-nor squirrel, nor bird had ever met his eye in
-this house; and the dogs in the court were for
-use, not play.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd pointed to his large telescope, and
-said that the cylinder, without the lenses, was to
-him no more than a cage without squirrels would
-be to Temmy.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“But you will have the glasses by and by,
-grandpapa, and I——”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes; I hope to have them many months
-hence, when the snow is thick on the ground,
-and the sleigh can bring me my packages of
-glass without breaking them, as the last were
-broken that came over the log road. But all
-this time the stars are moving over our heads;
-and in these fine spring evenings I should like
-very much to be finding out many things that I
-must remain ignorant of till next year; and I
-cannot spare a whole year now so well as when
-I was younger.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Cannot you do something while you are
-waiting?” was Temmy’s question. His uncle
-Arthur would have been as much diverted at it as
-Dr. Sneyd himself was; for the fact was, Dr.
-Sneyd had always twice as much planned to be
-done as any body thought he could get through.
-Temmy did not know what a large book he was
-writing; nor how much might be learned by
-means of the inferior instruments; nor what a
-number of books the philosopher was to read
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.07'>07</span>through, nor how large a correspondence was to
-be carried on, before the snow could be on the
-ground again.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Now let us walk to the creek” was a joyful
-sound to the boy, who made haste to find the
-doctor’s large straw hat. When the philosopher
-had put it on, over his thin grey hair, he turned
-towards one of his many curious mirrors, and
-laughed at his own image.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Temmy,” said he, “do you remember me
-before I wore this large hat? Do you remember
-my great wig?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O yes, and the black, three-cornered hat. I
-could not think who you were the first day I met
-you without that wig. But I think I never saw
-any body else with such a wig.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And in England they would not know what
-to make of me without it. I was just thinking
-how Dr. Rogers would look at me, if he could
-see me now; he would call me quite an American,—very
-like a republican.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Are you an American? Are you a republican?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I was a republican in England, and in
-France, and wherever I have been, as much as I
-am now. As to being an American, I suppose
-I must call myself one; but I love England very
-dearly, Temmy. I had rather live there than
-any where, if it were but safe for me; but we can
-make ourselves happy here. Whatever happens,
-we always find afterwards, or shall find when we
-are wiser, is for our good. Some people at home
-have made a great mistake about me; but all
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.08'>08</span>mistakes will be cleared up some time or other,
-my dear; and in the mean while, we must not
-be angry with one another, though we cannot
-help being sorry for what has happened.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I think uncle Arthur is very angry indeed.
-He said one day that he would never live among
-those people in England again.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I dare say there will be no reason for his
-living there; but he has promised me to forgive
-them for misunderstanding and disliking me.
-And you must promise me the same thing when
-you grow old enough to see what such a promise
-means.—Come here, my dear. Stand just where
-I do, and look up under the eaves. Do you see
-anything?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, I see a little bird moving!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy could not tell what bird it was. He
-was a rather dull child—usually called uncommonly
-stupid—as indeed he too often appeared.
-Whither his wits strayed from the midst of the
-active little world in which he lived, where the
-wits of everybody else were lively enough, no one
-could tell—if, indeed, he had any wits. His
-father thought it impossible that Temple Temple,
-heir of Temple Lodge and its fifty thousand
-acres, should not grow up a very important personage.
-Mrs. Temple had an inward persuasion,
-that no one understood the boy but herself. Dr.
-Sneyd did not profess so to understand children
-as to be able to compare Temmy with others, but
-thought him a good little fellow, and had no
-doubt he would do very well. Mrs. Sneyd’s
-hopes and fears on the boy’s account varied,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.09'>09</span>while her tender pity was unremitting: and uncle
-Arthur was full of indignation at Temple for
-cowing the child’s spirit, and thus blunting his
-intellect. To all other observers it was but too
-evident that Temmy did not know a martin from
-a crow, or a sycamore from a thorn.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That bird is a martin, come to build under
-our eaves, my dear. If we were to put up a box, I
-dare say the bird would begin to build in it directly.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy was for putting up a box, and his
-grandpapa for furnishing him with favourites
-which should be out of sight and reach of Mr.
-Temple. In two minutes, therefore, the philosopher
-was mounted on a high stool, whence he
-could reach the low eaves; and Temmy was vibrating
-on tiptoe, holding up at arms’ length that
-which, being emptied of certain mysterious curiosities,
-(which might belong either to grandpapa’s
-apparatus of science, or grandmamma’s of housewifery,)
-was now destined to hold the winged
-curiosities which were flitting round during the
-operation undertaken on their behalf.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Before descending, the doctor looked about
-him, on the strange sight of a thriving uninhabited village.
-Everybody seemed to be out
-after the squirrel hunters. When, indeed, the
-higher ground near the Creek was attained,
-Dr. Sneyd perceived that Mr. Temple’s family
-was at home. On the terrace was the gentleman
-himself, walking backwards and forwards in
-his usual after-dinner state. His lady (Dr.
-Sneyd’s only daughter) was stooping among her
-flowers, while Ephraim, the black boy, was attending
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.10'>10</span>at her heels, and the figures of other
-servants popped into sight and away again, as
-they were summoned and dismissed by their
-master. The tavern, kept by the surgeon of the
-place, stood empty, if it might be judged by its
-open doors, where no one went in and out. Dods
-was not to be seen in the brick-ground; which
-was a wonder, as Dods was a hard-working man,
-and his task of making bricks for Mr. Temple’s
-grand alterations had been so much retarded by
-the late rains that it was expected of Dods that
-he would lose not a day nor an hour while the
-weather continued fair. Mrs. Dods was not at
-work under her porch, as usual, at this hour; nor
-was the young lawyer, Mr. Johnson, flitting from
-fence to fence of the cottages on the prairie, to
-gather up and convey the news of what had befallen
-since morning. About the rude dwelling
-within the verge of the forest, there was the usual
-fluttering of fowls and yelping of dogs; but
-neither was the half-savage woodsman (only
-known by the name of Brawn) to be seen loitering
-about with his axe, nor were his equally uncivilized
-daughters (the Brawnees) at their sugar
-troughs under the long row of maples. The
-Indian corn seemed to have chosen its own place
-for springing, and to be growing untended; so
-rude were the fences which surrounded it, and so
-rank was the prairie grass which struggled with
-it for possession of the furrows. The expanse of
-the prairie was undiversified with a single living
-thing. A solitary tree, or a cluster of bushes
-here and there, was all that broke the uniformity
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.11'>11</span>of the grassy surface, as far as the horizon, where
-the black forest rose in an even line, and seemed
-to seclude the region within its embrace. There
-was not such an absence of sound as of motion.
-The waters of the Creek, to which Dr. Sneyd and
-Temmy were proceeding, dashed along, swollen
-by the late rains, and the flutter and splash of
-wild fowl were heard from their place of assemblage,—the
-riffle of the Creek, or the shallows
-formed by the unevenness of its rocky bottom.
-There were few bird-notes heard in the forest;
-but the horses of the settlement were wandering
-there, with bells about their necks. The breezes
-could find no entrance into the deep recesses of
-the woods; but they whispered in their play
-among the wild vines that hung from a height of
-fifty feet. There was a stir also among the rhododendrons,
-thickets of which were left to flourish
-on the borders of the wood; and with their rustle
-in the evening wind were mingled the chirping,
-humming, and buzzing of an indistinguishable
-variety of insects on the wing and among the
-grass.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I see grandmamma coming out of Dods’s
-porch,” cried Temmy. “What has she been
-there for, all alone?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I believe she has been the round of the cottages,
-feeding the pigs and fowls, because the
-neighbours are away. This is like your grandmamma,
-and it explains her being absent so long.
-You see what haste she is making towards us.
-Now tell me whether you hear anything on the
-other side of the Creek.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.12'>12</span>Temmy heard something, but he could not say
-what,—whether winds, or waters, or horses, or insects,
-or all these. Dr. Sneyd thought he heard cart
-wheels approaching along the smooth natural road
-which led out of the forest upon the prairie. The
-light, firm soil of this kind of road was so favourable
-for carriages, that they did not give the rumbling
-and creaking notice of their approach which is
-common on the log road which intersects a
-marsh. The post messenger was the uppermost
-person in Dr. Sneyd’s thoughts just now, whether
-waggon wheels or horse tread greeted his ear.
-He was partly right and partly wrong in his present
-conjectures. A waggon appeared from
-among the trees, but it contained nobody whom
-he could expect to be the bearer of letters;—nobody
-but Arthur’s assistant Isaac, accompanied
-by Mr. Temple’s black man Julian, bringing
-home a stock of groceries and other comforts
-from a distant store, to which they had been sent
-to make purchases.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The vehicle came to a halt on the opposite
-ridge; and no wonder, for it was not easy to see
-how it was to make further progress. The Creek
-was very fine to look at in its present state; but
-it was anything but tempting to travellers. The
-water, which usually ran clear and shallow, when
-there was more than enough to fill the deep holes
-in its bed, now brought mud from its source,
-and bore on its troubled surface large branches,
-and even trunks of trees. It was so much swollen
-from the late rains that its depth was not easily
-ascertainable; but many a brier which had lately
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.13'>13</span>overhung its course from the bank was now
-swaying in its current, and looking lost in a new
-element. Isaac and Julian by turns descended
-the bank to the edge of the water, but could not
-learn thereby whether or not it was fordable.
-Their next proceeding was to empty the cart,
-and drive into the flood by way of experiment.—The
-water only half filled the vehicle, and the
-horse kept his footing admirably, so that it was
-only to drive back again, and to bring the goods,—some
-on the dry seat of the waggon, and some
-on the backs of Isaac and Julian, as the
-one drove, and the other took care of the
-packages within. Two trips, it was thought,
-would suffice to bring over the whole, high and
-dry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What are you all about here?” asked Mrs.
-Sneyd, who had come up unobserved while her
-husband and grandchild were absorbed in watching
-the passage of the Creek. “The goods
-arriving! Bless me! I hope they will get over
-safely. It would be too provoking if poor
-Arthur should lose his first batch of luxuries.
-He has lived so long on Indian corn bread, and
-hominy, and wild turkeys, and milk, that it is
-time he should be enjoying his meal of wheaten
-bread and tea.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And the cloth for his new coat is there,
-grandmamma.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes; and plenty of spice and other good
-things for your papa. I do not know what he
-will say if they are washed away; but I care
-much more for your coffee, my dear,” continued
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.14'>14</span>she, turning to the doctor. “I am afraid your
-observations and authorship will suffer for want
-of your coffee. Do try and make Isaac hear
-that he is to take particular care of the coffee.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not I, my dear,” replied Dr. Sneyd, laughing.
-“I would advocate Arthur’s affairs, if any.
-But the men seem to be taking all possible care.
-I should advise their leaving the goods and cart
-together on the other side, but that I rather
-think, there will be more rain before morning, so
-as to make matters worse to-morrow, besides
-the risk of a soaking during the night. Here
-they come! Now for it! How they dash down
-the bank! There! They will upset the cart if
-they do not take care.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That great floating tree will upset them.
-What a pity they did not see it in time! There!
-I thought so.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The mischief was done. The trunk, with a
-new rush of water, was too much for the light
-waggon. It turned over on its side, precipitating
-driver, Julian, and all the packages into the
-muddy stream. The horse scrambled and struggled
-till Isaac could regain his footing, and set
-the animal free, while Julian was dashing the
-water from his face, and snatching at one package
-after another as they eddied round him, preparatory
-to being carried down the Creek.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd caught the frightened horse, as he
-scampered up the briery bank. Mrs. Sneyd
-shouted a variety of directions which would have
-been excellent, if they could have been heard;
-while Temmy stood looking stupid.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.15'>15</span>“Call help, my dear boy,” said Dr. Sneyd.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Where? I do not know where to go.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do you hear the popping of guns in the
-wood? Some of the hunters are coming back.
-Go and call them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Where? I do not know which way.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“In the direction of the guns, my dear. In
-that quarter, near the large hickory. I think
-you will find them there.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy did not know a hickory by sight; but
-he could see which way Dr. Sneyd’s finger
-pointed; and he soon succeeded in finding the
-party, and bringing them to the spot.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Arthur, I am very sorry,” said the doctor, on
-seeing his son come running to view the disaster.
-“Mortal accidents, my dear son! We must
-make up our minds to them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes, father, when they are purely accidents:
-but this is carelessness,—most provoking
-carelessness.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Indeed, the men did make trial of what they
-were about,” said the doctor.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The great tree came down so very fast!”
-added Temmy.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes. I am not blaming Isaac. It was
-my carelessness in not throwing a bridge over
-the Creek long ago. Never mind that now! Let
-us save what we can.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was a sorry rescue. The cart was broken,
-but it could be easily mended. The much-longed-for
-wheaten flour appeared in the shape of a sack
-of soiled pulp, which no one would think of swallowing.
-The coffee might be dried. The tea
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.16'>16</span>was not altogether past hope. Sugar, salt, and
-starch, were melted into one mass. Mr. Temple’s
-spices were supposed to be by this time perfuming
-the stream two miles below; his wax candles
-were battered, so that they could, at best, be used
-only as short ends; and the oil for his hall
-lamps was diffusing a calm over the surface of
-the stream. Mrs. Sneyd asked her husband
-whether some analogous appliance could not be
-found for the proprietor’s ruffled temper, when he
-should hear of the disaster.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The news could not be long in reaching him,
-for the other party of squirrel-hunters, bringing
-with them all the remaining women and children
-of the village, appeared from the forest, and the
-tidings spread from mouth to mouth. As soon
-as Temmy saw that Uncle Arthur was standing
-still, and looking round him for a moment, he
-put one of his mistimed questions, at the end of
-divers remarks.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“How many squirrels have you killed, uncle?
-I do not think you can have killed any at all;
-we saw so many as we came up here! Some
-were running along your snake fence, uncle;
-and grandpapa says they were not of the same
-kind as those that run up the trees. But we saw
-a great many run up the trees, too. I dare say,
-half a dozen or a dozen. How many have you
-killed, uncle?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Forty-one. The children there will tell you
-all about it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Forty-one! And how many did David kill?
-And your whole party, uncle?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.17'>17</span>Arthur gave the boy a gentle push towards
-the sacks of dead squirrels, and Temmy, having
-no notion why or how he had been troublesome,
-amused himself with pitying the slaughtered animals,
-and stroking his cheeks with the brushes of
-more than a hundred of them. He might have
-gone on to the whole number bagged,—two
-hundred and ninety-three,—if his attention had not
-been called off by the sudden silence which preceded
-a speech from uncle Arthur.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Neighbours,” said Arthur, “I take the
-blame of this mischance upon myself. I will not
-say that some of you might not have reminded
-me to bridge the Creek, before I spent my time
-and money on luxuries that we could have waited
-for a while longer; but the chief carelessness
-was mine, I freely own. It seems a strange time
-to choose for asking a favour of you——”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He was interrupted by many a protestation
-that his neighbours were ready to help to bridge
-the Creek; that it was the interest of all that
-the work should be done, and not a favour to
-himself alone. He went on:—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I was going to say that when it happens to
-you, as now to me, that you wish to exchange
-the corn that you grow for something that our
-prairies do not produce, you will feel the want of
-such a bridge as much as I do now; though I hope
-through a less disagreeable experience. In self-defence,
-I must tell you, however, how little able
-I have been till lately to provide any but the
-barest necessaries for myself and my men. This
-will show you that I cannot now pay you for the
-work you propose to do.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.18'>18</span>He was interrupted by assurances that nobody
-wanted to be paid; that they would have a bridging
-frolic, as they had before had a raising frolic
-to build the surgeon’s tavern, and a rolling frolic
-to clear Brawn’s patch of ground, and as they
-meant to have a reaping frolic when the corn
-should be ripe. It should be a pic-nic. Nobody
-supposed that Arthur had yet meat, bread, and
-whisky to spare.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I own that I have not,” said he. “You
-know that when I began to till my ground, I had
-no more capital than was barely sufficient to
-fence and break up my fields, and feed me and
-my two labourers while my first crop was growing.
-Just before it ripened, I had nothing left;
-but what I had spent was well spent. It proved a
-productive consumption indeed; for my harvest
-brought back all I had spent, with increase. This
-increase was not idly consumed by me. I began
-to pay attention to my cattle, improved my farm
-buildings, set up a kiln, and employed a labourer
-in making bricks. The fruits of my harvest were
-thus all consumed; but they were again restored
-with increase. Then I thought I might begin to
-indulge myself with the enjoyment for which I
-had toiled so long and so hard. I did not labour
-merely to have so much corn in my barns, but to
-enjoy the corn, and whatever else it would bring
-me,—as we all do,—producing, distributing, and
-exchanging, that we may afterwards enjoy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not quite all, Mr. Arthur,” said Johnson,
-the lawyer. “There is your brother-in-law, Mr.
-Temple, who seems disposed to enjoy everything,
-without so much as soiling his fingers with gathering
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.19'>19</span>a peach. And there is a certain friend of ours,
-settled farther east, who toils like a horse, and
-lives like a beggar, that he may hoard a roomful
-of dollars.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Temple produces by means of the hoarded
-industry of his fathers,—by means of his capital,”
-replied Arthur. “And the miser you speak
-of enjoys his dollars, I suppose, or he would
-change them away for something else. Well,
-friends, there is little temptation for us to hoard
-up our wealth. We have corn instead of dollars,
-and corn will not keep like dollars.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Why should it?” asked Dods the brickmaker.
-“Who would take the trouble to raise more corn
-than he wants to eat, if he did not hope to exchange
-it for something desirable?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Very true. Then comes the question, what
-a man shall choose in exchange. I began pretty
-well. I laid out some of my surplus in providing
-for a still greater next year; which, in my circumstances,
-was my first duty. Then I began
-to look to the end for which I was working; and
-I reached forward to it a little too soon. I should
-have roasted my corn ears and drank milk a
-little longer, and expended my surplus on a
-bridge, before I thought of wheaten flour and tea
-and coffee.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Three months hence,” said somebody, “you
-will be no worse off (except for the corn ears
-and milk you must consume instead of flour and
-tea) than if you had had your wish. Your flour
-and tea would have been clean gone by that
-time, without any return.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You grant that I must go without the pleasure,”
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.20'>20</span>said Arthur, smiling. “Never mind that.
-But you will not persuade me that it is not a clear
-loss to have flour spoiled, and sugar and salt
-melted together in the creek; unless, indeed, they
-go to fatten the fish in the holes. Besides, there
-is the mortification of feeling that your toil in
-making this bridge might have been paid with
-that which is lost in the purchase of luxuries
-which none will enjoy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Being vehemently exhorted to let this consideration
-give him no concern, he concluded,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I will take your advice, thank you. I will
-not trouble myself or you more about this loss;
-and I enlarge upon it now only because it
-may be useful to us as a lesson how to use the
-fruits of our labour. I have been one of the foremost
-to laugh at our neighbours in the next settlement
-for having,—not their useful frolics, like
-ours of to-morrow,—but their shooting-matches
-and games in the wood, when the water was so
-bad that it was a grievance to have to drink it.
-I was as ready as any one to see that the labour
-spent on these pastimes could not be properly
-afforded, if there were really no hands to spare to
-dig wells. And now, instead of asking them when
-they mean to have their welling frolic, our wisest
-way will be to get our bridge up before there is
-time for our neighbours to make a laughing-stock
-of us. When that is done, I shall be far from
-satisfied. I shall still feel that it is owing to me
-that my father goes without his coffee, while he
-is watching through the night when we common
-men are asleep.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”That is as much Temple’s concern as the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.21'>21</span>young man’s," observed the neighbours one to
-another. “Freely as he flings his money about,
-one would think Temple might see that the doctor
-was at least as well supplied with luxuries as
-himself.” “Why the young man should be left
-to toil and make capital so painfully and slowly,
-when Temple squanders so much, is a mystery to
-every body.” "A quarter of what Temple has
-spent in making and unmaking his garden would
-have enabled Arthur Sneyd’s new field to produce
-double, or have improved his team; and Temple
-himself would have been all the better for the
-interest it would have yielded, instead of his
-money bringing no return. But Temple is not
-the man to lend a helping hand to a young
-farmer,—be he his brother-in-law or a mere
-stranger."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Such were the remarks which Arthur was not
-supposed to hear, and to which he did not therefore
-consider himself called upon to reply.
-Seeing his father and mother in eager consultation
-with the still dripping Isaac, he speedily
-completed the arrangements for the next day’s
-meeting, toils, and pleasures, and joined the
-group. Isaac had but just recollected that in
-his pocket he brought a packet of letters and
-several newspapers, which had found their way,
-in some circuitous manner, to the store where he
-had been trafficking. The whole were deplorably
-soaked with mud. It seemed doubtful whether a
-line of the writing could ever be made out. But
-Mrs. Sneyd’s cleverness had been proved equal
-to emergencies nearly as great as this. She had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.22'>22</span>once got rid of the stains of a stand full of ink
-which had been overset on a parchment which
-bore a ten-guinea stamp. She had recovered the
-whole to perfect smoothness, and fitness to be
-written upon. Many a time had she contrived
-to restore the writing which had been discharged
-from her father’s manuscript chemical lectures,
-when spillings from his experiments had occurred
-scarcely half an hour before the lecture-room
-began to fill. No wonder her husband was now
-willing to confide in her skill—no wonder he
-was anxious to see Temmy home as speedily as
-possible, that he might watch the processes of
-dipping and drying and unfolding, on which
-depended almost the dearest of his enjoyments,—intercourse
-with faithful friends far away.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.2' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter II.</span> <br> <br> THE GENTLEMAN AT HOME.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>Master Temple Temple was up early, and
-watching the weather, the next morning, with far
-more eagerness than his father would have
-approved, unless some of his own gentlemanlike
-pleasures had been in question. If Mr. Temple
-had known that his son and heir cared for the
-convenience of his industrious uncle Arthur, and
-of a parcel of labourers, the boy would hardly
-have escaped a long lecture on the depravity of
-his tastes, and the vulgarity of his sympathies.
-But Mr. Temple knew nothing that passed prior
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.23'>23</span>to his own majestic descent to the breakfast-room,
-where the silver coffee-pot was steaming fragrantly,
-and the windows were carefully opened or scrupulously
-shut, so as to temper the visitations of
-the outward air, while his lady sat awaiting his
-mood, and trembling lest he should find nothing
-that he could eat among the variety of forms of
-diet into which the few elements at the command
-of her cook had been combined. Mrs. Temple
-had never been very happy while within reach of
-markets and shops; but she was now often tempted
-to believe that almost all her troubles would be at
-an end if she had but the means of indulging
-her husband’s fastidious appetite. It was a real
-misery to be for ever inventing, and for ever in
-vain, new cookeries of Indian corn, beef, lean
-pork, geese and turkeys, honey and milk.
-Beyond these materials, she had nothing to
-depend upon but chance arrivals of flour, pickles,
-and groceries; and awfully passed the day when
-there was any disappointment at breakfast. She
-would willingly have surrendered her conservatory,
-her splendid ornaments, the pictures, plate,
-and even the library of her house, and the many
-thousand acres belonging to it, to give to her
-husband such an unscrupulous appetite as
-Arthur’s, or such a cheerful temper as Dr. Sneyd’s.
-It was hard that her husband’s ill-humour about
-his privations should fall upon her; for she was
-not the one who did the deed, whatever it might
-be, which drove the gentleman from English
-society. The sacrifice was quite as great to her
-as it could possibly be to him; and there was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.24'>24</span>inexpressible meanness in Temple’s aggravating,
-by complaints of his own share, the suffering
-which he had himself brought upon her. Temple
-seemed always to think himself a great man, however;
-and always greatest when causing the
-utmost sensation in those about him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This morning, he stalked into the breakfast
-room in remarkable state. He looked almost as
-tall as his wife when about to speak to her, and
-was as valiant in his threats against the people
-who disturbed him by passing before his window,
-as his son in planning his next encounter with
-Brawn’s great turkey.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Come away from the window, this moment,
-Temple. I desire you will never stand there
-when the people are flocking past in this manner.
-Nothing gratifies them more. They blow those
-infernal horns for no other purpose than to draw
-our attention. Ring the bell, Temple.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When Marius appeared, in answer to the bell,
-he was ordered to pull down that blind; and if
-the people did not go away directly, to bid them
-begone, and blow their horns somewhere out of
-his hearing.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"They will be gone soon enough, sir. It is a
-busy day with them. They are making a frolic
-to bridge the Creek, because of what happened—"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A terrified glance of Mrs. Temple’s stopped
-the man in his reference to what had taken place
-the evening before. It was hoped that the stock
-of coffee might be husbanded till more could
-arrive, that the idea of chocolate might be insinuated
-into the gentleman’s mind, and that the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.25'>25</span>shortness of the wax candles, and the deficiency
-of light in the hall at night, might possibly escape
-observation.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The bridge over the Creek being much
-wanted by every body, sir,” continued Marius,
-"every body is joining the frolic to work at it;
-that is, if——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not I, nor any of my people. Let me hear
-no more about it, if you please. I have given
-no orders to have a bridge built.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Marius withdrew. The cow-horns were presently
-no longer heard—not that Marius had
-done any thing to silence them. He knew that
-the blowers were not thinking of either him or his
-master; but merely passing to their place of rendezvous,
-calling all frolickers together by the way.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Temple, you find you can live without your
-squirrels, I hope,” said the tender father. “Now,
-no crying! I will not have you cry.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Bring me your papa’s cup, my dear,” interposed
-his mother; “and persuade him to try
-these early strawberries. The gardener surprised
-us this morning with a little plate of strawberries.
-Tell your papa about the strawberries in the
-orchard, my dear.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>In the intervals of sobs, and with streaming
-eyes, Temmy told the happy news that strawberries
-had spread under all the trees in the orchard,
-and were so full of blossom, that the gardener
-thought the orchard would soon look like a field
-of white clover.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Wild strawberries, I suppose. Tasteless
-trash!” was the remark upon this intelligence.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.26'>26</span>Before a more promising subject was started,
-the door opened, and Dr. Sneyd appeared. Mr.
-Temple hastened to rise, put away, with a prodigious
-crackling and shuffling, the papers he
-held, quickened Temmy’s motions in setting a
-chair, and pressed coffee and strawberries on “the
-old gentleman,” as he was wont to call Dr. Sneyd.
-It was impossible that there could be much
-sympathy between two men so unlike; but it
-singularly happened that Dr. Sneyd had a
-slighter knowledge than any body in the village
-of the peculiarities of his son-in-law. He was
-amused at some of his foibles, vexed at others,
-and he sighed, at times, when he saw changes of
-looks and temper creeping over his daughter,
-and thought what she might have been with a
-more suitable companion; but Temple stood in
-so much awe of the philosopher as to appear a
-somewhat different person before him and in any
-other presence. Temmy now knew that he was
-safe from misfortune for half an hour; and being
-unwilling that grandpapa should see traces of
-tears, he slipped behind the window blind, to
-make his observations on the troop which was
-gathering in the distance on the way to the creek.
-He stood murmuring to himself,—"There goes
-Big Brawn and the Brawnees! I never saw any
-women like those Brawnees. I think they could
-pull up a tall tree by the roots, if they tried.
-I wonder when they will give me some more
-honey to taste. <a id='corr26.21'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='“There'>There</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_26.21'><ins class='correction'>There</ins></a></span> goes Dods! He must
-be tired before the frolic begins; for he has been
-making bricks ever since it was light. I suppose
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.27'>27</span>he is afraid papa will be angry if he does
-not make bricks as fast as he can. Papa was so
-angry with the rain for spoiling his bricks
-before! There goes David——" And so on,
-through the entire population, out of the bounds
-of Temple Lodge.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I came to ask,” said the doctor, “how many
-of your men you can spare to this frolic to-day.
-Arthur will be glad of all the assistance that can
-be had, that the work may be done completely at
-once.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The reply was, that Arthur seemed an enterprising
-young man.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"He is: just made for his lot. But I ought
-not to call this Arthur’s enterprise altogether.
-The Creek is no more his than it is yours or mine.
-The erection is for the common good, as the
-disaster last night"—(a glance from Mrs. Temple
-to her husband’s face, and a peep from Temmy,
-from behind the blind)—“was, in fact, a common
-misfortune.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Temple took snuff, and asked no questions
-at present.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I have been telling my wife,” observed the
-doctor, “that I am prodigiously tempted to try
-the strength of my arm myself, to-day.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I hope not, my dear sir. Your years——The
-advancement of science, you know——Just
-imagine its being told in Paris, among your
-friends of the Institute, that you had been helping
-to build a bridge! Temple, ring the bell."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Marius was desired to send Ephraim to receive
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.28'>28</span>his master’s commands. In a few minutes, the
-door slowly opened, a strange metallic sound was
-heard, and a little negro boy, stunted in form
-and mean in countenance, stood bowing in the
-presence.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Ephraim, go into the park field, and tell
-Martin to send as many labourers as he can
-spare to help to bridge the creek. And as you
-come back——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>During this time, Dr. Sneyd had turned on his
-chair to observe the boy. He now rose rapidly,
-and went to convince himself that his eyes did
-not deceive him. It was really true that the
-right ankle and left wrist of the little lad were
-connected by a light fetter.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Who has the key of this chain?” asked Dr.
-Sneyd of his daughter, who, blushing scarlet,
-looked towards her husband.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Give it me,” said the doctor, holding out his
-hand.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Excuse me, my dear sir. You do not know
-the boy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Very true: but that does not alter the case.
-The key, if you please.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>After a moment’s hesitation, it was produced
-from the waistcoat pocket. Dr. Sneyd set the
-boy free, bade him make haste to do his master’s
-bidding, and quietly doubling the chain, laid it
-down on a distant table.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“He never made haste in his life, sir,” protested
-Mr. Temple. “You do not know the lad,
-sir, believe me.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I do not: and I am sorry to hear such an
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.29'>29</span>account of him. This is a place where no one
-can be allowed to loiter and be idle.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Ephraim showed that he could make haste;
-for he lost no time in getting out of the room,
-when he had received his final orders. At the
-moment, and for a few moments more, Dr. Sneyd
-was relating to his daughter the contents of the
-letters received from England the night before.
-Mr. Temple meanwhile was stirring the fire,
-flourishing his handkerchief, and summoning
-courage to be angry with Dr. Sneyd.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do you know, sir,” said he, at length, "that
-boy is my servant? Let me tell you, that for
-one gentleman to interfere with another gentleman’s
-servants is——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was listening so calmly, with his
-hands resting on the head of his cane, that
-Temple’s words, somehow or other, failed him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Such interference is——is——This boy, sir,
-is my servant."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Your servant, but not your slave. Do you
-know, Temple, it is I who might call you to
-account, rather than you me. As one of the
-same race with this boy, I have a right to call you
-to account for making property of that which is
-no property. There is no occasion, I trust, for
-you and me to refer this matter to a magistrate:
-but, till compelled to do so, I have a full right to
-strike off chains wherever I meet with them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"You may meet with them in the woods, or as
-far over the prairie as you are likely to walk, my
-dear sir, for this lad is a notorious runaway: he
-has escaped three times. Nothing short of such
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.30'>30</span>an offence could have made me do any thing
-which might appear harsh. If he runs away
-again, I assure you I shall be compelled to employ
-the restraint in question: I give you warning
-that I must. So, if you should meet him, thus
-restrained, you know——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"O, yes; I shall know what to do. I shall
-take off the chain that he may hie the faster.——I
-see your conservatory is in great beauty. I imagine
-you must have adopted Arthur’s notion
-about warming it."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not Mr. Sneyd’s. O, no; it was Mrs. Temple’s
-idea.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not originally; it was Arthur who advised
-me,” declared Mrs. Temple. “I hope you will
-soon have some of the benefit of his devices
-about the kitchen-garden, father. The gardener
-has orders to send you some of the first vegetables
-and fruit that are ready for gathering; and
-I am going to carry my mother some flowers to-day.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I was about to ask when you will dine with
-us,” said Dr. Sneyd. “I think it had better be
-when some of the good things you speak of are
-ready; for we have few luxuries to offer you. But
-when will you come?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Temple was sorry that his time was now
-so occupied with business,—his affairs at the
-land-office, in addition to all his own concerns,—that
-he could form no engagements. Mrs. Temple
-would answer for herself and her son.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was not aware of this new occupation
-of Mr. Temple’s. He was particularly glad
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.31'>31</span>to hear of it, and told it to his wife as a piece of
-very good news, as soon as he got home. They
-both hoped that their daughter would be all the
-happier for her husband having something to do
-and to think about, beyond his own affairs.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What is all this?” cried Mr. Temple, returning
-from bowing out Dr. Sneyd with much civility.
-“What accident happened last night,
-pray?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>On being told of the upsetting of the waggon,
-he was not the less angry for his internal consciousness
-that he caused himself to be treated
-like a child, by being unable to bear cross accidents.
-His horse was ordered instantly, his
-morning gown exchanged for his pretty riding
-equipments, and his wife and son left to gaze
-from one window and another to learn, if possible,
-what was to happen next, and to reason with
-one another about their lesser troubles, after the
-manner of tender mothers and confiding children.
-Temmy saw very clearly that it could do no good
-to cry whenever squirrels were mentioned, and
-that it must be much pleasanter to papa to see
-his boy smile, and to hear him answer cheerfully,
-than——The child’s memory could supply the
-contrast. This same papa was all the time in
-great trouble without reasoning. He pursued
-his way to the Creek as if he had been in mortal
-terror of the groom who followed at his heels.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Aside the devil turned for envy,” says Milton.
-Such a pang has since been the lot of
-many a splenetic descendant of the arch-fiend, on
-witnessing happiness that he not only could not
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.32'>32</span>share, but could not sympathize in. Such a pang
-exasperated Mr. Temple on casting his first
-glance over the scene of the frolic. He despised
-every body there, from Arthur, now brandishing
-his rule, now lending a hand to place a heavy
-beam, to the youngest of Dods’s children, who
-thought she was helping by sticking corn-cobs
-into the crevices of the logs. He despised Brawn,
-the woodsman, with his round shoulders, enormous
-bush of hair, and hands that looked as if
-they could lift up a house. He despised the
-daughters, Black Brawnee and Brown Brawnee,
-as they were called. He was never very easy
-when he fell in with these girls in the depths of
-the forest, tapping their row of maple trees, and
-kneeling at the troughs beneath; or on the
-flowery prairie, lining the wild bees to their
-haunt in the hollow tree. He felt himself an object
-of ridicule to these daughters of the forest,
-and so insignificant in respect of all the qualifications
-which they valued, that none of his personal
-accomplishments gave him any comfortable
-feeling of confidence in their presence; and the
-merriment with which they now pursued as sport
-a toil which would have been death to him, irritated
-him to a degree which they were amused
-to witness. He despised the whole apparatus of
-festivity: the pig roasting in the shade, and the
-bustle of the women preparing the various messes
-of corn, and exhibiting their stores of salt beef.
-He pronounced the whole vulgar,—so excessively
-vulgar,—that he could not endure that a
-son of Dr. Sneyd’s should be assisting in the fête.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.33'>33</span>The axe and mattock sounded in a very annoying
-way; the buzz of voices and of laughter were
-highly discreditable to the order of the place;
-and the work was so rough that, in all probability,
-he should be obliged to witness some wounds
-or bruises if he did not get away. So he hastened
-to conceal his envy from himself, and to
-express his contempt as plainly as possible.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He raised himself in his stirrups, and called
-out his men by name. They came forth unwillingly,
-having but just arrived to join the frolic,
-and suspecting that their capricious master meant
-to send them home again. A glance of mutual
-condolence between two of them was observed by
-Mr. Temple, and did no good to their cause.
-They were ordered to return instantly to their
-work in the park-field, and to appear no more
-near the Creek this day.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We will do some of their work in the park-field
-to-morrow, Mr. Temple,” said Arthur, “if
-you will let us have the benefit of their labour
-now.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Under a sense of infinite obligation, Mr. Temple
-explained that he permitted none but his own
-people,—no vagabond woodsmen,—no workmen
-who came hither because they were driven out of
-the civilized world,—to touch his land. And,
-after the losses of the preceding evening, he
-could not think of giving his men a holiday,—losses
-of which Arthur had not even had the
-grace to apprize him. Arthur was surprized.
-He could not have supposed that such a piece of
-news could have been long in travelling through
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.34'>34</span>the village of Briery Creek, considering that
-Temple’s man had been one of the waggoners,
-Temple’s son a witness of the whole, and the
-entire population of the place on the spot before
-the adventure was finished. Why was it more
-Arthur’s duty than any one’s else to carry him
-the disagreeable news?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Your not having done it, Mr. Sneyd, is of
-a piece with your conduct about the cattle-marks,
-sir,—of a piece with the whole of your conduct
-since you entered upon your speculations in my
-neighbourhood. My men shall know the story
-of the cattle-marks, sir, and then we shall see
-which of them will stir a finger to help you with
-your bridge."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What about the cattle-marks?” asked Arthur,
-with a perplexed look. “If you told me, I am
-afraid I have forgotten.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You could have given me the earliest intelligence,
-I fancy, sir. If I mistake not, you have
-entered, at the land-office, your design of marking
-your sheep and pigs with three slanting slits
-in the right ear.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This was true.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And your determination was not made
-known,—it was not, in fact, taken,—till the fifteenth
-of last month."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I dare say not. I planned it just before my
-second visit to the land-office, which was about
-the middle of last month.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Very well, sir; the fifteenth was your day.
-Now, I have evidence to prove that on the thirteenth
-I informed my son, who, I understand,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.35'>35</span>informed Dr. Sneyd, that it was my intention to
-mark my cattle with three slanting slits in the
-right ear.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Well! what then?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Why, just that circumstances have so fallen
-out as to defeat your design, sir, which I will not
-stop to characterize. I have a connexion with
-the land-office, sir, which you were perhaps not
-aware of; and my sheep and pigs will run no risk
-of being confounded with yours. It is very well
-to ask—‘What then?’ I should like to know
-whether my sheep and pigs do not far out-number
-yours: and how was any one to distinguish the
-one from the other, straying in the woods and
-prairies, if all were marked with three slanting
-slits in the right ear?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur would not stoop to reply to the insinuations
-of his brother-in-law. He did, for a
-moment, condescend to lose his temper, and
-would probably have frightened the intruder off
-the ground by an exhibition of passion, if the
-Brawnees and their father, and a few others who
-had nothing to hope or fear from Temple, had
-not relieved him by a timely burst of laughter.
-Dods dared not laugh, for he was brickmaker to
-Temple; and much building remained to be done
-about the lodge. Others, among whom the gentleman’s
-money was distributed in profusion,
-appeared not to observe what was going on.
-Arthur only observed, before recommencing his
-labours,—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I am surprised to hear all this, Mr. Temple.
-I thought your cattle had been much too proud
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.36'>36</span>to stray about the woods like the beasts of poor,
-common settlers like us. I am sure when I grow
-rich enough to have stables, and styes, and pens,
-such as you can command, my horses will never
-be heard tinkling their bells in the forest in the
-evening, and nobody will run over a pig of mine
-in the prairie.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And yet you can spare time to build bridges,
-Mr. Sneyd; and you can contribute materials
-for a market-house and a cheese dairy. It is not
-to every body that you complain of poverty.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“To no one do I complain of poverty. I am
-not poor. Nobody present is poor. There was
-but one short period when any of us could be
-justly called so; and that was when each of us had
-barely enough to supply his own actual wants.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That did not last long,” said Dods. “In a
-young settlement like ours, two years ago, every
-act of labour tells. Ah! there goes my gentleman!
-I thought so. He never stays to be reminded
-what a barbarous place he has got into.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Whatever brought him here,” observed
-Brawn, “is more than any of us can tell. I
-have seen new settlers enough in my day, my
-life having lain among new clearings. Many a
-rough farmer, many a pale mechanic, have I seen;
-the one looking gloomily into the waste before
-him, and the other sinking under the toil that was
-too new to him. And many a trader has passed
-through with his stores, and many a speculator
-come to gamble in land, and go away again.
-But a beau like this, with a power of money to
-spend, without caring to earn any, is a thing I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.37'>37</span>have heard tell of far to the east, but never thought
-to see. It makes one waken one’s ears to hear
-what travellers tell of the reason.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur could have told the reason, as his
-neighbours knew; and it was probably the hope
-that he might forget his discretion that made the
-gossips of Briery Creek betake themselves to
-conjectures in his hearing as often as he was believed
-to have received provocation from Temple.
-He was never known, however, to deny or confirm
-anything that was said. It was pretty well understood
-that Temple had come here because he
-had made his former place of residence too hot
-to hold him; but whether he had libelled or slain
-anybody, made himself odious as an informer,
-enriched himself by unfair means, or been unfortunate
-in a duel, it still remained for some accidental
-revelation to make known.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“How is it, Dods, that you think every act of
-labour tells in a young settlement?” asked Arthur,
-on resuming work after a large destruction
-of roast pig. “I have always understood that
-labour is worth more the more it is divided; and
-nowhere is there less division of labour than in a
-young settlement.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Very true. I hold that we are both right, because
-we are speaking of different states of affairs.
-Before people have enough of anything to change
-away, and while each man works for himself,
-each touch of his finger, if one may say so, supplies
-some want of his own. No need, in such
-days, to trouble your head about whether your
-work will sell! You want a thing; you make it,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.38'>38</span>and use it; and thereby feel how much your
-work is worth. But the case is different when
-you have more of a thing than you want, and
-would fain change it away. You cannot change
-it away unless others have also something more
-than they want to use themselves. Then they
-begin to club their labour together, and divide
-the work among them, and try by what means
-they can get the most done; by such division of
-labour they do get the most done, but it does not
-follow that the workmen flourish accordingly, as
-they do when each works for himself.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Because it becomes more difficult to calculate
-how much of each sort of production will be
-wanted. The matter becomes perplexed by the
-wishes of so many being concerned. If we could
-understand those wishes, the more we can get
-produced, the better it would be for everybody.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I have tried both the periods we speak of,”
-said Dods. "Brickmaking was a fine business
-indeed in the part of England where I lived when
-trade was brisk, and manufacturers building
-country-houses, and speculators running up rows
-of cottages for weavers. But a sudden change
-knocked me up when I least expected it. I went
-on one summer making bricks as before;—for
-what should I know of the changes that were
-taking place on the other side of the world, and
-that spread through our manufacturers, and
-weavers, and builders, till they reached me? The
-first I knew of it was, my not selling a brick
-for the whole season, and seeing house after
-house deserted, till it was plain that my unbaked
-bricks must melt in the winter rains, and those in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.39'>39</span>the kilns crumble in the storms, before my labour
-would be wanted again in that line. As for my
-little capital, it melted and crumbled away with
-the bricks it was locked up in. Here mine was,
-for a long while, the only brick house. I made
-not a brick too much; so that there was no
-waste."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And the same may be said of the work you
-do for Mr. Temple. There may be an exact calculation
-how many bricks are wanted, so that you
-can proportion your supply exactly to the demand.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And use the advantage of division of labour
-too, sir. No fear of a glut coming unawares,
-when I have the whole of our little range under
-my own eye. One of my boys may dig the clay,
-and another barrow the bricks to the kiln, and
-the eldest tend the fires, while I am moulding, and
-no fear of our all being thrown out at once by an
-unexpected glut; and the more disastrously, perhaps,
-for our having turned our mutual help to the
-best account.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I rather think your labour is stimulated
-rather than relaxed by the high wages you get
-here, Mr. Dods.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Why, yes. That seems the natural effect of
-high wages, whatever people may say of the desperate
-hard work of such poor creatures as the
-Glasgow weavers, or the Manchester spinners.
-I say, look to the Irish, who have very poor
-wages. Do they work hard? I say, look to the
-labourers in India. They have miserable wages.
-Do they work hard? The difference between
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.40'>40</span>these and the Lancashire spinners seems to
-me to be, that in India and Ireland, some sort
-of subsistence,—rice and potatoes, poor enough,—is
-to be had for little labour, and little more
-can be gained by greater labour; while the Lancashire
-poor can only get a bare subsistence by
-excessive labour, and therefore they labour excessively.
-Put a poor diet of rice within reach of
-the Lancashire spinner, with the knowledge that
-he can get nothing better, and he will do as little
-work as will procure him a bare subsistence of
-rice. But try all three with high wages, in circumstances
-where they may add one comfort after
-another to their store, and you will see whether
-they will relax in their toils till they have got all
-that labour can obtain."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I say, look to the reason of the case, and it
-will tell the same story as the facts. If a man
-is lazy, and loves idleness more than the good
-things which industry will bring, there is an end
-of the matter, as far as he is concerned. He is
-an exception to common rules. But, as long as
-there is no end to the comforts and luxuries which
-most men prefer to idleness, there will be no end
-of exertion to obtain them. I believe you and
-your sons work harder than you did two years
-ago, though you have ten times as many comforts
-about you.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And my wife, too, I assure you. At first,
-we used to sit down tired before the end of the
-day, and if we had bread enough for supper, and
-blankets to spread on the floor of our log-house,
-were apt to think we could do no more that day,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.41'>41</span>But when we had wherewith to get salt beef, we
-thought we could work a little harder for something
-pleasanter to drink with it than the brackish
-water which was used by us all at first, for want
-of a sweeter draught. In like manner, when we
-once had a brick cottage, there was no end of our
-toil to get things to put into it;—first, bedsteads,
-and seats, and a table; and then crockery, and
-hardware, and matting for the floors; and now
-my wife has set her mind upon carpets, and a
-looking-glass for her customers to fancy her
-handiwork by. She says ladies always admire
-her gowns and bonnets most when they see them
-on themselves. It was but this morning that my
-wife vowed that a handsome looking-glass was a
-necessary of life to her. We should all have
-laughed enough at the idea of such a speech two
-years ago."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And with the wish, your wife brings the
-power to obtain these comforts.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"The wish would be worth little without the
-power; which makes it a merciful arrangement
-that the wish only grows with the power. If my
-wife had longed for a looking-glass before she
-was able to set about earning one with her mantua-making
-and milliner’s work, she would have
-been suffering under a useless trouble. No: it
-is a good thing that while people are solitary,
-producing only for themselves, there is no demand
-for other people’s goods——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I should say ‘desire.’ There is no demand
-till the power and the will are joined. If your
-wife had pined for a mirror two years ago, there
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.42'>42</span>would have been no demand for it on her part.
-To-morrow, if she offers a travelling trader a
-smart assortment of caps,—or, what is the same
-thing, if she sells her caps to the women of
-Briery Creek, and gives the trader the money for
-his mirror,—she makes a real and effective demand.
-It seems to me a blessed arrangement, too, that
-there is always somewhat wherewith to supply
-this demand, and exactly enough to supply it."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Ay, sir; if we were but sharp-sighted enough
-to take care that the quality was as exactly fitted
-to human wishes as the quantity. Since we none
-of us produce more than we want, just for the
-pleasure of toiling, it is as plain as possible that
-every man’s surplus constitutes a demand. Well!
-every man’s surplus is also his neighbour’s supply.
-The instrument of demand that every man
-brings is also his instrument of supply; so that,
-in point of quantity, there is always a precise
-provision made for human wants.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Yes; and if mistakes are made as to the kinds
-of articles that are wished for, there is always the
-consolation that such mistakes will correct one
-another, as long as there can never be too much
-of everything. If what we have just said be true,
-there being too much of one thing proves that
-there must be too little of another; and the production
-of the one will be slackened, and that of the
-other quickened, till they are made equal. If your
-wife makes up more caps by half than are wanted,
-caps will be ruinously cheap. The Brawnees
-will give much less maple sugar for their caps——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Brawnees never wore caps, Arthur was
-reminded.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.43'>43</span>“But they will, in time, take my word for it, if
-they remain among us. Well! your wife will
-refuse to sell her caps at so great a loss. She
-will lay them by till the present generation of
-caps is worn out, and go and tap the maple trees
-for herself, rather than pay others dearly for it.
-In this case, the glut is of caps; and the deficiency
-is of maple sugar.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My wife’s gains must depend on her own
-judgment in adapting her millinery to the wants
-of her customers. If she makes half as many
-caps again as are needed, she deserves to lose, and
-to have to go out sugar-making for herself.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Yes: calculation may avail in a small society
-like this. In a larger and more complicated
-society, the most that prudence can do is to watch
-the changes of wants and wishes, as shown by
-variations of price. This would avail for all practical
-purposes, if wants and wishes were left to
-themselves. They are so at Briery Creek, and
-therefore every trader at Briery Creek has fair
-play. But it is not so where bounties, and prohibitions,
-and unequal taxation are made to interfere
-among buyers and sellers: where such disturbing
-influences exist, the trader has not fair
-play; and it would be a miracle indeed if he could
-adapt his supply to the demand,—or, in other
-words, be satisfied in his own demand. What
-is moving in the wood there, Dods? What
-takes all our people away from their work when it
-is so nearly finished?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It must be some rare sight,” observed Dods.
-“Every one, look ye, man, woman, and child,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.44'>44</span>skipping over the new bridge while half of it is
-prettily gravelled, and the other half still bare and
-slippery. See how they scramble over the heap
-of gravel left in the middle! I suppose I must
-follow where they lead, and bring you the news, sir.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Before Dods had time to complete his first passage
-over the new bridge, the news told itself. A
-company of soldiers, on their way to occupy a
-military post near, emerged from the green
-depths of the forest, and appeared to be making
-straight for the ford, without looking to the right
-hand or to the left. Their pleasure was instantly
-visible when, their attention being attracted by a
-shout from the throng of settlers, they perceived a
-substantial bridge, finished except the gravelling,
-overhanging the stream through which they had
-expected to be compelled to wade. They received
-with hearty good-will their commander’s directions
-to pay toll of their labour for their passage.
-Never was a public work finished in a more
-joyous style. The heap of gravel was levelled
-in a trice; and, by particular desire, a substantial
-handrail was fixed for the benefit of careless children,
-or of any whose nerves might be affected
-by the sight of the restless waters below. Temple
-was riding along a ridge whence he could look
-down, and hoped to observe how much the work
-was retarded by his labourers being withdrawn.
-When he saw that no help of his was wanted,—that
-the erection was now complete, the refuse
-logs being piled up out of the way, the boughs
-carried off for fuel, the tools collected, and preparations
-made for the crowning repast,—he put
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.45'>45</span>spurs to his horse, and cast hard words at his
-groom for allowing him to forget that he was
-likely to be late home to dinner.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur, meantime, was engaged with the commander,
-who explained that his men and he
-would be glad of the advantage of attending
-divine service on the Sunday, if there was any
-place within reach of their post where they might
-do so. The only place of worship at present in
-Briery Creek was Dr. Sneyd’s house, where he
-had conducted service since his arrival, for the
-benefit of all who wished to attend. The commander
-was very anxious to be permitted, with
-his company, to join the assemblage; Arthur had
-no doubt of his father’s willingness. The question
-was, where they should assemble, Dr.
-Sneyd’s house not being large enough for so
-many. One proposed the verge of the forest;
-but Dr. Sneyd was not, at his age, made to abide
-changes of weather like the hardy settlers about
-him. Arthur’s barn was too far off for the convenience
-of all parties. Nobody was disposed to
-ask from Mr. Temple any favour which, being
-graciously granted for one Sunday, might be
-withdrawn before the next. Could the market-house
-be made fit for the purpose? It was a
-rude building, without seats, and occupied with
-traffic till the Saturday evening; but the neighbours
-promised to vacate it in time to have it
-cleared,—prepared with log seats, and some sort
-of pulpit,—and made a temple meet for the worship
-of the heart.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd’s afternoon walk brought him to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.46'>46</span>spot in time to promise to do his part. His
-blessing was ready for the work newly completed,
-and for the parting cup with which the men of
-peace dismissed the men of war, in a spirit of
-mutual good-will.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.3' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter III.</span> <br> <br> SATURDAY MORNING.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>The settlers at Briery Creek followed the old
-custom of the mother country, of holding their
-market on a Saturday. Saturday was an anxious
-day to some, a joyous day to others, and a busy
-day to all. Many a mother bent her steps to the
-market-house, doubting whether she should be
-able to meet with the delicate food she desired
-for her baby just weaned, or for her invalid husband,
-getting up from the fever, and following
-her cookery with eager eyes. Many a child held
-its mother’s apron, and watched her bargaining,
-in the hope that some new and tempting article
-of food would be carried home, after a long
-sameness; or that the unexpected cheapness of
-her purchases would enable her to present him
-with the long-promised straw hat, or, at least, a
-pocket-full of candy from the Brawnees’ sugar
-pans. The whole village was early astir; and
-Dr. Sneyd, when he preferred a stroll along the
-bank of the creek to a turn in the market-house
-with his lady, could distinguish from a distance
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.47'>47</span>the solitariness of the farm-yards and dwellings,
-and the convergence of driver, drover, rider, and
-walking trader, towards the point of attraction.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur was the centre of all observation. He
-offered more for sale than anybody else: he
-bought more; and he had the largest division of
-the market-house, excepting always the corner
-reserved for the passing trader, who could spread
-out riches far transcending what even Arthur
-could boast. To such, the young farmer left it
-to exhibit bear and beaver skins, leather, and
-store of salted venison, if he came from the
-North or West; and hardware, cotton, cloth and
-silk goods, books and stationery, if he was on
-his way from the East. Any of these, or all in
-their turn, Arthur bought; but his sales, various
-as they were considered, were confined to a few
-articles of food. He traded, not for wealth of
-money, but of comfort. His purchases were of
-two kinds, neither of which were destined for
-sale, as were those of the trader to whom he
-yielded precedence in the market-house. He
-bought implements to replace those which were
-worn out; and this kind of purchase was a
-similar sort of expenditure to that of the seed-corn
-which was put into the ground, and the
-repairs bestowed upon his fences and barn;—it
-was an expenditure of capital—capital consumed
-for purposes of reproduction with increase. With
-the surplus left after thus replacing his former
-capital, and perpetually adding to it, Arthur purchased
-articles of unproductive consumption;
-some for his house, which was becoming so
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.48'>48</span>much prettier than a bachelor could want, that
-the gossips of Briery Creek began to speculate
-on whom he had chosen to share the occupancy;
-some for his table, as the sugar of the Brawnees;
-some for his person, as the stout leggings which
-Dods occupied himself in making in rainy
-weather; and some for his friends, as when he
-could lay hold of a political journal for his father,
-or of a fur tippet for his mother, or of a set of
-pencils for Temmy to sketch with when he
-came to the farm. (Arthur seldom went to Mr.
-Temple’s; but he found time to give Temmy
-many a drawing-lesson at the farm.) Now that
-Arthur had not only a growing capital, but a
-surplus after replacing it—a revenue, which furnished
-him with more comforts perpetually, he
-was unwilling that his sister should feel so hurt
-as he knew she did at her husband not having
-assisted him with capital, from the time that he
-took his farm in the shape of a patch of prairie.
-In the early days of his enterprise, he would
-have been truly thankful for such an addition to
-his small stock of dollars as would have enabled
-him to cultivate a larger extent of ground, and
-live less hardly while his little property was
-growing faster; but now that he had surmounted
-his first difficulties, and was actually justified in
-enlarging his unproductive expenditure, he wished
-Mrs. Temple to forget that her husband had declined
-assisting her brother, and be satisfied that
-the rich man had not been able to hinder the
-prosperity he would not promote.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The prosperity of the whole village would have
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.49'>49</span>increased more rapidly than it did, if all the inhabitants
-had been as careful in their consumption
-as Arthur. Not only did Temple expend
-lavishly in caprices as well as luxuries, and the
-surgeon-tavern-keeper tempt many a labourer
-and small proprietor to spend that in whisky
-which ought to have been laid out (if not productively)
-in enjoyments that were innocent,—but
-there was a prevalence of wasteful habits,
-against which Arthur and his establishment might
-have served as a sufficient example. The merit
-of the order which was observable on his farm
-was partly due to himself, partly to Mrs. Sneyd,
-(who kept a maternal eye on all his interests,)
-and partly to Isaac’s wife, who superintended his
-dairy and dwelling-house.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>On this market morning,—after a day of extraordinary
-fatigue,—the slate of the place at six
-o’clock might have shamed many a farm-house
-in a region where there is a superabundance
-instead of a dearth of female service. Isaac’s
-wife had no maid to help her but her own little
-maidens of four and three years old; yet, by six
-o’clock, when her employer was driving his market-cart
-to the place of traffic, the milk was duly
-set by in the pans, the poultry were fed, the tallow
-with which she was about to make candles was
-preparing while she made the beds, and the little
-girls were washing up the breakfast things in the
-kitchen—the elder tenderly wiping the cups and
-basins which the younger had washed in the
-wooden bowl which her mother had placed and
-filled for her in the middle of the floor, as the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.50'>50</span>place whence it was most certain that it could
-fall no lower. The pigs were in their proper
-place, within a fence, which had a roof in one
-corner for their shelter in bad weather. The
-horses and cattle were all properly marked, and
-duly made musical with bells, when turned out
-into the woods. There was a well of pure water,
-so guarded, that the children and other young
-animals could not run into it unawares; and all
-the wild beasts of the forest had tried the strength
-of the fences in vain. Arthur had not, therefore,
-had to pay for the luxurious feasts of his enemies
-of the earth or air, or for any of that consumption
-which may, in a special sense, be called unproductive,
-since it yields neither profit to the
-substance nor pleasure to the mind. If a similar
-economy had pervaded the settlement, its gross
-annual produce would have more rapidly increased,
-and a larger revenue would have been
-set at liberty to promote the civilization of the
-society in improving the comfort of individuals.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Brawn and his daughters could never be made
-to attend to this. The resources which they
-wasted would have tilled many an acre of good
-land, or have built a school-house, or have turned
-their habitation of logs into a respectable brick
-tenement, with grassy field and fruitful garden.
-They preferred what they called ease and liberty;
-and the waste they caused might be considered
-as revenue spent on a pleasure,—a very unintelligible
-pleasure,—of their own choice. As long
-as they supported themselves without defrauding
-their neighbours, (and fraud was the last thing
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.51'>51</span>they could have been made to understand,) no
-one had a right to interfere with their methods
-of enjoyment any more than with Temple’s conservatory,
-or Dr. Sneyd’s library, or Mrs. Dods’s
-passion for mirrors and old china; but it was
-allowable to be sorry for so depraved a taste, and
-to have a very decided opinion of its injuriousness
-to society, and consequent immorality. This
-very morning there was dire confusion in their
-corner of the settlement. For some days the
-girls had been bee-hunting, being anxious to
-bring the first honey of the season into the
-market. In order to make up for the time spent
-on the new bridge, they were abroad at sunrise
-this day to track the wild bees in their earliest
-flight; but after such a fashion, that it would
-have answered better to them to be at home and
-asleep. Yet they succeeded in their object. The
-morning was just such as to tempt all things that
-fly from the hollow tree, from which the mists
-had drawn off, leaving a diamond token on every
-leaf. The sun began to shine warm through the
-summer haze, and the wild flowers of the prairie
-to look up and brighten at his presence. As the
-brown sisters threaded the narrow ways of the
-woods, bursting through the wild vines, and
-bringing a shower of dew on their heads from
-sycamore and beech, many a winged creature
-hummed, or buzzed, or flitted by,—the languid
-drone, or the fierce hornet, or white butterflies in
-pairs, chasing one another into the loftiest and
-greenest recess of the leafy canopy. Presently
-came the honey-bee, winging its way to the sunny
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.52'>52</span>space—the natural herb-garden, to which the girls
-were hastening; and when there, what a hovering,
-and buzzing, and sipping, and flitting was
-going on! The bee-women laughed in anticipation
-of their sport as they drew on their leathern
-mittens, and applied themselves to catch a
-loaded bee in each hand. They agreed on their
-respective stations of experiment, and separating,
-let fly their prisoners, one by one, tracking the
-homeward course of each, with a practised eye,
-through a maze of boughs, and flickering lights
-and shadows, and clustered stems, which would
-have perplexed the vision of a novice. The four
-bees being let fly from different stations, the point
-at which their lines of flight must intersect each
-other was that at which the honeycomb might be
-surely found; and a rich store it was,—liquid,
-clear, and fragrant,—such as would assuredly
-make the mouth water of every little person in
-the village who had advanced beyond a milk
-diet. Another and another hollow tree was
-found thus to give forth sweetness from its decay,
-till the bee-women shook back the lank hair from
-before their eyes, gathered up such tatters of their
-woollen garments as they had not left on the
-bushes by the way, and addressed themselves to
-return. On their walk it was that they discovered
-that they had lost more this morning than
-many such a ramble as theirs could repay.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A vast cluttering and screaming of fowls was
-the first thing that drew off their attention from
-their fragrant load. Some of the poor poultry
-that their father had been plucking alive (as he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.53'>53</span>was wont to do six times a year) had evidently
-made their escape from his hands half plucked,
-and were now making short flights, higher and
-farther from home, so that it was more probable
-that they would join their wild acquaintance, the
-turkeys or the prairie fowl, than return to roost
-among the logs. Next appeared,—now entangling
-its hind legs among the vines, now poking
-its snout into a ground-squirrel’s nest, and now
-scuttling away from pursuit,—a fine young
-porker, which had been shut up from its rambles
-for some time past. The sisters gave chase to
-their own property; but all in vain: their pursuit
-only drove the animal farther into the wood, and
-they hastened home to give notice of the disaster.
-They could see nothing of Brawn about the house,
-but could not look farther for him till they had
-discovered the meaning of the light smoke which
-issued from the door and the crevices of the log-wall.
-Black Brawnee’s best gown was burning
-before the fire,—the splendid cotton gown, with
-a scarlet ground and a pattern of golden flowers,
-which, to the astonishment of every body, she
-had taken a fancy to buy of a passing trader,
-and which she had washed and hung up to dry
-in preparation for the market: it was smouldering
-away, leaving only a fragment to tell the tale.
-Next came a moan from an enclosure behind the
-cottage, and there lay a favourite young colt with
-two legs so broken that it was plain the poor animal
-would never more stand. How it happened
-could not be learned from the dumb beast, nor
-from the two or three other beasts that were huddled
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.54'>54</span>together in this place, where they had no
-business to be. It seemed as if, in some grand
-panic, the animals had tumbled over one another,
-leaving the colt to be the chief sufferer. But
-where was Brawn himself? He was moaning,
-too, in a hollow place in the wood, where he had
-made a false leap, and fallen so as to sprain his
-ankle, while in pursuit of the runaway porker.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What brought ye here?” asked the brown
-damsel, as she raised her father with one application
-of strength.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What carried the porker into the forest?”
-he asked, in reply.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Ask him. We did not give him room,” said
-one.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No need,” retorted the other. “Who left
-the gate open?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That did we both, this morning, for the cause
-that there is no fastening.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No latch; but a fastening there is. I knotted
-the rope last night, and so might you this
-morning. The loss of the porker comes of losing
-the lamb.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My lamb!” was repeated, with every variety
-of lamentation, by both the damsels. It was too
-true. For want of a latch, the gate of the enclosure
-was tied with a rope. The damsels found
-the tying too troublesome, and merely pulled it
-after them. Little by little it had swung open.
-A sharp-set wild cat had stolen in to make choice
-of a meal, and run out again with the pet lamb.
-The master had followed the lamb, and the porker
-made the best of his opportunity, and followed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.55'>55</span>the master. Then ensued the hue and cry which
-drove the beasts over the poor colt; and, meantime,
-the scarlet gown, one sleeve of which had
-been puffed into the fire by Brawn’s hasty exit,
-was accelerating the smoking of the dried beef
-which hung from the rafters. A vast unproductive
-consumption for one morning!</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The damsels made nothing of carrying their
-father home, and, after bathing his ankle, laying
-him down on his back to study the rafters till
-they should return from the market. It was a
-much harder task to go to market; the one without
-her scarlet and yellow gown, and the other
-with grief for her lamb lying heavy at her heart.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>They found their pigs very trying to their tempers
-this morning. Instead of killing them, and
-carrying them to market in that quiet state, as
-usual, the damsels had resolved to make the attempt
-to drive them; as, from the abundance of
-pork in all its forms in the market just now, a
-sale was very uncertain. To drive pigs along a
-high road is not a very easy task; what then
-must it be in a wild country, where it is difficult
-even to follow their vagaries, and nearly impossible
-to reclaim them? The Brawnees agreed
-that to prevent such vagaries offered the only
-hope of getting to market in time; and one
-therefore belled the old hog which was to be her
-special charge, while the other was to promote to
-the utmost the effect of the bell-music on the
-younger members of the drove. The task was
-not made easier by the poor beasts having been
-very ill-fed. There was little in the coarse, sour
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.56'>56</span>prairie grass to tempt them; but patches of juicy
-green were but too visible here and there where
-travellers had encamped, feeding their beasts with
-hay, and leaving the seeds of the perennial verdure
-which was to spring up after the next rains.
-Nothing could keep the old hog and the headlong
-train from these patches, whether they lay
-far or near; insomuch that the sisters were twenty
-times tempted to leave their swine to their own
-devices, and sell no pork that day. But the not
-selling involved the not buying; and this thought
-generated new efforts of patience and of skill.
-When they arrived at the scene of exchange,
-and cast a glance on Mrs. Dods’s display of cotton
-garments set off with here and there a muslin
-cap, and paraphernalia of pink and green; or on
-a pile of butter which they were not neat-handed
-enough to rival; or into wicker baskets of
-crockery, or upon the trader’s ample store of
-blankets, knives, horn spoons, and plumes of red
-and blue feathers, they felt that it would indeed
-have been cruel to be compelled to quit the
-market without any of the articles that were offered
-to their choice. Nobody, however, inquired for
-their pigs. One neighbour was even saucy enough
-to laugh at their appearance.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You had better buy a load of my pumpkins,”
-said Kendall, the surgeon and tavern-keeper.
-“Your swine will be more fit for market next
-week, if you feed them on my fine pumpkins in
-the meanwhile.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“When we want pumpkins,” said one of them,
-“we will go to those that have ground to grow
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.57'>57</span>them on. You have not bought a field, and
-grown pumpkins since yesterday, I suppose?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“By no means. I have a slip of a garden,
-let me tell you; and, though it is but a slip, it
-is of rare mellow mould, where the vines strike
-at every joint as they run. My wife has kept
-enough for pies for all the travellers that may
-pass before next spring. One load is bespoken
-at four dollars; and you will take the other, if
-you are wise. There are a few gourds with
-them, too.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Gourds! Who cares for gourds?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Who can do without gourds, say I? I am
-sure we, at the tavern, could not, so dear as
-crockery is at this place. Cut off the top, and
-you have a bottle; cut off top and tail, and you
-have a funnel; cut it in two, and you have cups;
-slice off one side, and you have a ladle. Take my
-gourds, I advise you, and set yonder crockery-man
-at defiance, with his monstrous prices and
-brittle ware.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We have no drunken guests to break our
-cups and bottles; and as for prices, how do you
-know that they are a matter of concern to us? If
-we take your load, it shall be the pumpkins without
-the gourds.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You will take the pumpkins, then?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If you take the sum out in pork or honey.
-We want our dollars for the crockery-man.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Pork, no! I think we shall all grunt soon.
-We are pretty sure to have no Jews come our
-way. We all have bacon for the morning meal;
-and a pig for dinner, and salt pork for supper.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.58'>58</span>When one whistles to the birds, there comes a
-squeal instead of a chirp; and as sure as one
-walks in the dark, one stumbles over a pig. Our
-children learn to grunt before they set about
-speaking. No pork for me! We have a glut of
-pigs.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Honey, then. Your wife wants honey for
-her pumpkin-pies; and I have heard that you set
-out mead sometimes at your tavern.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And till you cheapen your sugar, we want
-honey to sweeten our travellers’ coffee, and treat
-the children with. How much honey will you
-give me for my load?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The damsel was checked in her answer by her
-sister, who perceived that many eyes were turned
-towards their fragrant store, and that no other
-bee-hunters seemed to be in the market. A dollar
-a gallon was the price announced by the sisters,
-after a consultation. Mr. Kendall shook
-his head, and stood aside for awhile. The truth
-was, he was full as much in want of honey for
-his purposes as an apothecary, as his wife for her
-coffee and pies. He was resolved to get some,
-at whatever price, and waited to put in his word
-at the first favourable opportunity.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur was no less determined upon a purchase
-of sweets. His mother began to be in
-distress about her preserves. Her fruit was all
-ripe, and craving to be preserved; but the destined
-sugar had gone to sweeten the waters in
-the Creek. She entreated her son to bring her
-some honey. None could be found in the woods
-near the farm. Every body was hay-making, or
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.59'>59</span>about to make hay, and could not go out bee-hunting.
-The Brawnees were the only resource.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I want some of your honey,” said he, catching
-the eye of the damsel of the burned gown,
-over the group which intervened.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You shall have it, and no one else,” was her
-reply.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>She was again checked by her sister, who knew
-her disposition to serve Arthur, at the expense of
-her own interests, and those of every body else.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What will you give?” asked the more prudent
-one.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Pigs; we can agree on the price.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The one sister shook her head; the other
-suddenly discovered that it would be a good plan
-to improve and enlarge their wealth of swine
-while swine were cheap. She offered her five
-gallons of honey for one fat pig; which offer
-caused her sister much consternation, and made
-Kendall hope that the honey would be his, after
-all.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No, no,” said Arthur. "Your terms are not
-fair——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Then I will get another gallon or two before
-the sun goes down, to make up——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I mean altogether the other way,” replied
-Arthur. “I do not want to force my pigs upon
-you; but if you take them, you shall have them
-cheap, since there is but a poor demand for them
-to-day. You shall have two of those pigs for
-your five gallons; and if your sister thinks that
-not enough, the difference shall be made up in
-fresh butter.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.60'>60</span>While the bargain was being discussed, one
-sister controlling the generosity of the other, and
-her admiration of Arthur’s generosity, while
-Arthur was thinking of nothing but fair play,
-Kendall wandered away discontented, seeing that
-his chance was over.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You do not happen to have any honey to sell,
-Mrs. Dods?” said he, as he passed the stall of
-cottons and muslins.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, dear, no, Mr. Kendall. It is what I want
-above every thing. Really, it is impossible to
-persuade an eye to look at my caps to-day,
-though the pattern has never been introduced here
-before. There is no use in my attempting to
-deal with ladies who dress in such a strange style
-as Brawn’s daughters. Nothing would look
-becoming on them; or I am sure I would make
-a sacrifice even on this tasty new thing, to get
-something to sweeten my husband’s toddy with.
-Indeed I expect to be obliged to make a sacrifice,
-at all events, to-day; as I beg you will tell Mrs.
-Kendall. There being such a profusion of pigs,
-and so little honey to-day, seems to have put us
-all out as to our prices.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“How happens it, Mrs. Dods?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In the first place, they say, there was never
-such a season known for young pigs. The price
-has fallen so that the plenty does more harm than
-good to the owners; as is the complaint of
-farmers, you know, when the crops are better
-than ordinary, and they cannot enlarge their
-market at will. Then, again, there seems to have
-been miscalculation;—no one appears to have
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.61'>61</span>been aware that every body would bring pigs,
-and nobody any honey, except those slovenly
-young women."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Ah! both causes of glut in full operation!”
-exclaimed Kendall. “The caprice of seasons,
-and the miscalculation of man!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And of woman too, Mr. Kendall. If you will
-believe me, I have been at work early and late,
-after my fashions, this week; ay, I declined
-going to see the bridge finished, and put off our
-wedding-day treat, for the sake of getting my
-stock into pretty order by to-day; and I have
-scarcely had a bid yet, or even a word from a
-neighbour, till you came. I did not calculate on
-the demand for honey, and the neglect of every
-thing else. Every body is complaining of the
-same thing.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"It seems strange, Mrs. Dods, that while we
-all want to sell, and all to buy, we cannot make
-our wants agree. I bring my demand to Mr.
-Arthur,—my load of pumpkins and request of
-honey or sugar. He wants no pumpkins, and
-has no honey. I bring the same to you. You
-want no pumpkins, and offer me caps. Now I
-might perhaps get dollars for my pumpkins; but
-I want only one cap——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"You do want one, then! Here is a pretty
-thing, that would just suit your wife——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Let me go on. I bring my demand to those
-dark girls: and the best of it is, they do want
-pumpkins, and could let me have honey; but the
-young farmer comes between, with his superfluity
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.62'>62</span>of pigs, to offer a better bargain; so that I
-suffer equally from the glut of pork and the
-dearth of honey.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We are all suffering, so that any stranger
-would say that there is a glut of every thing but
-honey. Neither millinery, nor blankets, nor
-knives, nor flower-seeds are selling yet. But I
-believe there is no glut of any thing but pigs. If
-we could put them out of the market, and put
-honey out of people’s heads, I have little doubt
-we should exchange, to our mutual satisfaction,
-as many articles as would set against each other,
-till few would be left.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I hope to see this happen before night, and
-then I may be rid of my pumpkins, and carry
-home a cap at a price we should neither of us
-grumble at, and keep the rest of my dollars for
-honey hereafter.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Next week. No doubt, there will be a fine
-supply of it next week. Perhaps a glut: for a
-glut often follows close upon a scarcity.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Which should make us careful to husband
-our stocks till we are sure we can renew them;
-like the wise Joseph in Egypt.—That puts a
-thing into my head. I have a good mind to take
-the girls’ offer of pigs for my pumpkins. Who
-knows but there may be a scarcity of pork after
-all this plenty—which is apt to make people
-wasteful? If they will, they shall have half a
-load for two of their lean animals; and I will
-keep the other half load to feed them upon."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Ah! that is always the way people’s wishes
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.63'>63</span>grow with opportunity. This morning, you
-thought of no such thing as keeping pigs; and
-now, before night, you will have two.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“To be sure, Mrs. Dods. Very natural!
-The demand always grows as wealth grows, you
-know. When the farmer makes his land yield
-double by good tillage, he demands double the
-commodities he demanded before; and if nature
-gives us a multitude of pigs, a new demand will
-open in the same way.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And there is a double supply at the same
-time,—of corn by the farmer, and of pigs by the
-porkseller. Well! in either case, there is a
-better chance opened for my caps. The more
-wealth there is, the better hope of a sale of
-millinery. You must not forget that, Mr.
-Kendall. You promised to take one of my caps,
-you know."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Why, so I did; but how to pay for it, I am
-sure I don’t know. I am not going to sell my
-load for money, you see.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Well, I will tell you how. Get three lean
-pigs, and part with a few more pumpkins. I
-will take a pig for this pretty cap. I am somewhat
-of your opinion that pigs will soon be worth
-more than they are now.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And so you help to quicken the demand.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Yes. My boys will manage to keep the
-animal,—behind the house, or in the brickfield.
-And it would be a thousand pities your wife
-should not have this cap. I had her before my
-mind’s eye while making it, I do assure you;—and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.64'>64</span>it will soon lose its bloom if it goes into my
-window, or upon my shelves again."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The negotiation was happily concluded; and,
-by the end of the day, when pigs and honey were
-put out of the question, a brisk traffic took place
-in the remaining articles, respecting which the
-wishes of the buyers and sellers agreed better
-than they had done about the disproportioned
-commodities. All had come with a demand;
-and each one’s instrument of demand was his
-neighbour’s means of supply: so that the market
-would have been entirely cleared, if they had but
-known one another’s wishes well enough to
-calculate what kinds of produce they should
-bring. If this had been done, there would have
-been more honey; and if, from a caprice of
-nature, there had been still more pigs than usual,
-the only consequence would have been that the
-demander of pork would have received more of it
-to his bargain, or that the supplier of pigs would
-have kept back some of his pork, to be an
-additional future instrument of demand. In this
-case, no one would have lost, and some one would
-have gained.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>As it was, Arthur was a loser. He paid much
-more for honey than would probably be necessary
-the next week. But he thought himself in
-another sense a gainer,—in proportion to the
-pleasure of obliging his mother. The Brawnees
-carried home two thirds of a load of pumpkins,
-two fat pigs, and a cherished store of fresh butter,
-in the place of their five gallons of honey and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.65'>65</span>three lean swine. They were decidedly gainers;
-though not, perhaps, to the extent they might
-have been if they had been unscrupulous about
-pressing their customer hard. Any one but
-Arthur would have been made to yield more
-wealth than this; but they were well content
-with having pleased him, and repaired in part the
-losses of the morning.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Other parties left little to be removed in
-preparation for the Sunday. Having carried
-home their purchases first, they returned for the
-small remainder of their stock; and the evening
-closed with a sort of minor frolic, the children
-running after the stray feathers their mothers were
-sweeping away, and the men ranging logs for
-seats, and providing a platform and desk for the
-use of Dr. Sneyd. One or two serious people
-were alarmed at the act of thus turning a house
-of merchandise into a temple of worship; but
-the greater number thought that the main consideration
-was to gather together as many
-worshippers as could be collected in the heart of
-their wilderness. Such an accession as was now
-promised to their congregation seemed to mark
-an era in the history of their community.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.4' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter IV.</span> <br> <br> SUNDAY EVENING.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>Temmy was fond of feeling his grandfather’s
-hand upon his shoulder any day of the week;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.66'>66</span>but on the Sunday evening, in particular, it was
-delightful to the boy to share the leisure of the
-family. Many a tale of old times had Mrs.
-Sneyd then to tell; many a curious secret of
-things in earth, air, and heaven, had the doctor to
-disclose; and uncle Arthur was always ready to
-hear of the doings of the last week, and to
-promise favours for the time to come. It was
-seldom that Temmy could enjoy a whole evening
-of such pleasures;—only when Mr. Temple
-chose to make an excursion, and carry his lady
-with him, or to go to bed at eight o’clock because
-his ennui had by that time become intolerable.
-Usually, Temmy could be spared only for an
-hour or two, and was sure to be fetched away in
-the midst of the most interesting of all his grandmamma’s
-stories, or the most anxious of the
-doctor’s experiments.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This evening,—the evening of the day of
-opening the market-house for worship,—the poor
-boy had given up all hope of getting beyond the
-boundaries of the Lodge. Mr. Temple was, as
-he said, very ill; as every body else would have
-said,—in a very intolerable humour. He could
-not bear sunshine or sound. His wife must sit
-behind closed shutters, and was grievously
-punished for her inability to keep the birds from
-singing. Temmy must not move from the foot
-of the sofa, except to ring the bell every two
-minutes, and carry scolding messages every
-quarter of an hour; in return for which he was
-reproved till he cried for moving about, and
-opening and shutting the door. At length, to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.67'>67</span>the great joy of every body, the gentleman went
-to bed, having drunk as much wine as his head
-would bear, and finding no relief to his many
-ailments from that sort of medicine. This final
-measure was accomplished just in time for the
-drawing-room windows to be thrown open to the
-level rays of the sun, and the last breath of the
-closing flowers. The wine was carried away,
-and Ephraim called for to attend his young master
-to Dr. Sneyd’s. Temmy was to explain why
-Mrs. Temple could not leave home this evening,
-and he might stay till Dr. Sneyd himself should
-think it time for him to return. Without the
-usual formalities of pony, groom, and what not,
-Temmy was soon on the way, and in another
-half-hour had nearly forgotten papa’s terrible
-headache under the blessed influence of grandpapa’s
-ease of heart.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Uncle Arthur was sitting astride on the low
-window-sill of the study, with Temmy hanging
-on his shoulder, when a golden planet showed
-itself above the black line of the forest. The
-moon had not risen, so that there was no rival in
-the heaven; and when the evening had darkened
-a little more, Temmy fancied that this bright orb
-cast a faint light upon his grandfather’s silver
-hairs, and over uncle Arthur’s handsome, weather-browned
-face. Temmy had often heard that his
-father had much beauty; and certainly his picture
-seemed to have been taken a great many times;
-yet the boy always forgot to look for this beauty
-except when some of these pictures were brought
-out, while he admired uncle Arthur’s dark eyes,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.68'>68</span>and beautiful smile and high forehead, more and
-more every time he saw him. It was very lucky
-that uncle Arthur looked so well without combing
-his eye-brows, and oiling his hair, and using
-three sorts of soap for his hands, and three different
-steel instruments, of mysterious construction,
-for his nails; for the young farmer had no
-time for such amusements. It was also well that
-he was not troubled with fears for his complexion
-from the summer’s sun, or from the evening air
-in the keenest night of winter. This was lucky,
-even as far as his good looks were concerned,
-for, if he looked well by candle-light, he looked
-better in the joyous, busy noon; and more dignified
-still when taking his rest in the moonlight;
-and, as Temmy now thought, noblest of all while
-under the stars. If papa could see him now,
-perhaps he would not laugh so very much as
-usual about uncle Arthur’s being tanned, and
-letting his hair go as it would.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Shall we mount to the telescopes, father?”
-asked Arthur. “The boy will have time to enjoy
-them to-night. I will take care of him home,
-if Ephraim dares not stay.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd rose briskly, observing that it would
-indeed be a pity to lose such an evening. Temmy
-grasped his grandmamma’s hand, hoping that
-she was going too. He scarcely knew why, but
-he felt the observatory to be a very awful place,
-particularly at night, when only a faint bluish
-light came in through the crevices of the shifting
-boards; or a stray beam, mysteriously bright,
-fell from the end of the slanting telescope, and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.69'>69</span>visibly moved on the floor. Grandpapa was rather
-apt to forget Temmy when he once got into the
-observatory, and to leave him shivering in a dark
-corner, wondering why every body spoke low in
-this place, and afraid to ask whether the stars
-really made any music which mortal ears might
-listen for. When grandpapa did remember the
-boy, he was not aware that he was uneasy and
-out of breath, but would call him here and send
-him there, just as he did in the study in broad
-daylight. It had been very different with grandmamma,
-the only time she had mounted hither
-with him. She had held his hand all the while,
-and found out that, tall as he was grown, he
-could see better by sitting on her knee; and she
-had clasped him round the waist, as if she had
-found out that he trembled. Perhaps she had
-heard his teeth chatter, though grandpapa did not.
-Temmy hoped they would not chatter to-night,
-as he did not wish that uncle Arthur should hear
-them; but Mrs. Sneyd was not to be at hand.
-She declared that she should be less tired with
-walking to the lodge than with mounting to the
-observatory. She would go and spend an hour
-with her daughter, and have some talk with
-Ephraim by the way.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>There needed no excuse for Temmy’s being
-out of breath, after mounting all the stairs in the
-house, and the ladder of the observatory to boot;
-and the planet which he was to see being still
-low in the sky was reason enough for uncle Arthur
-to hold him up to the end of the telescope.
-He did not recover his breath, however, as the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.70'>70</span>moments passed on. This was a larger instrument
-than he had ever looked through before, and
-his present impressions were quite different from
-any former experience. The palpable roundness
-of the orb, the unfathomable black depth in which
-it moved solitary, the silence,—all were as if new
-to him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You see it?” asked Arthur.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, yes.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Another long silence, during which the boy
-breathed yet more heavily.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You see it still?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No, uncle Arthur.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My dear boy, why did you not tell me? We
-must overtake it. There! there it is once more!
-You must not let it travel out of sight again.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“How can I stop it?” thought Temmy, and
-he would fain have pressed his hands before his
-eyes, as the silent vision traversed the space more
-brightly and more rapidly, it seemed to him, every
-moment. Arthur showed him, however,—not
-how to stop the planet, but how to move the
-instrument so as not to lose sight of it: he then
-put a stool under him, and told him he could now
-manage for himself. Dr. Sneyd had something
-to show his son on the other side of the heavens.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>If Temmy had had the spheres themselves to
-manage, he could scarcely have been in a greater
-trepidation. He assured himself repeatedly that
-friends were at hand, but his head throbbed so
-that he could scarcely hear their whispers, and
-the orb now seemed to be dancing as he had
-seen the reflection of the sun dance in a shaken
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.71'>71</span>basin of water. He would look at something
-else. He jerked the telescope, and flash went
-one light after another before his eyes, as if the
-stars themselves were going out with a blaze.
-This would never do. He must look at something
-earthly. After another jerk to each side,
-which did not serve his purpose, he pushed it up,
-and saw—something which might belong to any
-of the worlds in being,—for Temmy knew no more
-about it than that it was most horrible. An
-enormous black object swept across the area of
-vision, again and again, as quick as lightning.
-It would not leave off. Temmy uttered a shriek
-of terror, and half slipped, half tumbled from his
-stool.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What has the boy found? What can be the
-matter?” asked grandpapa. Arthur presently
-laughed, and told Temmy he was very clever to
-have found what he should have thought it very
-difficult to discover from this place—Arthur’s
-own mill;—the new windmill on the mound,
-whose sails were now turning rapidly in the evening
-breeze. It was some comfort to learn that
-his panic was not much to be wondered at.
-Uncle Arthur knew what it was to take in too
-near a range with a large telescope. He had
-done so once, and had been startled with an apparition
-of two red cheeks and two staring blue
-eyes, apparently within half an inch of the end of
-his own nose.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Here, Temmy,” said Dr. Sneyd, “try whether
-you can read in this book.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Shall I go and get a candle, grandpapa?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.72'>72</span>“No, no. I want to see whether a little star
-yonder will be our candle. Lay the book in this
-gleam of light, and try whether you can read.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Many strange things were still whisking before
-Temmy’s eyes, but he could make out the small
-print of the book. He was then shown the star
-that gave the light,—one of the smallest in a
-bright constellation. He heartily wished that
-nobody would ask him to look at any more stars
-to-night, and soon managed to slip away to the
-little table, and show that he was amused with
-turning a greater and a lesser light upon the
-book, and showing with how little he could
-read the title-page, and with how much the small
-type of the notes. The next pleasant thing that
-happened was the lamp being lighted.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Father,” said Arthur, “you seldom have me
-for an assistant now. I am neither tired nor busy
-to-night, and the sky is clear. Suppose we make
-a long watch.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was only too happy. He produced
-a light in one of his magical ways, and hung the
-shade on the lamp, while Arthur arranged his
-pens and paper, and laid his watch on the table.
-Dr. Sneyd took his place at the best telescope
-now in readiness, after various screwings and unscrewings,
-and shiftings of the moveable boards.
-Arthur meanwhile was cutting a pencil, with
-which he invited Temmy to draw beside him.
-Uncle Arthur thought Temmy would draw very
-well if he chose. In a little while nothing was
-to be heard but the brief directions of Dr. Sneyd
-to his secretary, and the ticking of the watch on
-the table.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.73'>73</span>Temmy was fast asleep, with his head resting
-on his drawing, when he was called from below,
-to go home.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Just see him down the ladder,” said Dr.
-Sneyd.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No, thank you, grandpapa; I can always
-get down.” In truth, Temmy always went down
-much more quickly than he came up.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The next time a cloud came in the way, Dr.
-Sneyd observed,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Temple is ruining that boy. He will leave
-him no nerve,—no sense. What will his many
-thousand acres be worth to him without?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do you think he will ever have those many
-thousand acres, sir?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I almost wish he may not. Perhaps his best
-chance would be in his being left to manage for
-himself in some such way as you have done, Arthur.
-Such a call on his energies would be the
-best thing for him, if it did not come too <a id='corr73.20'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='late.'>late.”</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_73.20'><ins class='correction'>late.”</ins></a></span></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur had a strong persuasion that it might
-come at any time. He was by no means satisfied
-that the many thousand acres were still Temple’s.
-He was very sure that much of the gentleman’s
-wealth must have evaporated during his incessant
-transmutations of meadows into pleasure-grounds,
-and flower-gardens into shrubberies, and hot-houses
-into baths, and stables into picturesque
-cottages, and cottages into stables again. He
-was seldom seen three times on the same horse;
-and it was certain that the money he had locked
-up in land would never be productive while he
-remained its owner. Who would come and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.74'>74</span>settle under such a proprietor, when land as good,
-and liberty to boot, was to be had elsewhere?
-Temple himself was contracting his cultivation
-every year. The more he laid out unproductively,
-the less remained to be employed productively.
-If Arthur had had one-tenth part of what Temple
-had wasted since he settled at Briery Creek, his
-days of anxiety and excessive toil might have
-been over long ago.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is all for the best, Arthur. You would
-not have been happy in the possession of Temple’s
-money, subject to his caprices, poor man!
-Nobody is more easy than I am under pecuniary
-obligation; but all depends on the quarter whence
-it comes, and the purposes for which the assistance
-is designed. I accepted this observatory
-from you, you remember, when I knew that it
-cost you something to give up your time and
-labour to it; and I dare say I should have accepted
-the same thing from Temple, if he had
-happened to offer it, because, in such a case, the
-good of science could be the only object. But,
-if I were you, I would rather work my own way
-up in the world than connect myself with such a
-man as Temple. The first time he wanted something
-to fidget himself about, he would be for
-calling out of your hands all he had lent you.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“One would almost bear such a risk,” said
-Arthur, “for the sake of the settlement. My
-poor sister makes the best of matters by talking
-everywhere of the quantity of labour her husband
-employs. But I think she must see that that
-employment must soon come to an end if no
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.75'>75</span>returns issue from it. I am sure I should be
-glad to employ much more labour, and in a way
-which would yield a maintenance for a still greater
-quantity next year, if I had the laying out of the
-money Temple wastes on his caprices. I am not
-complaining, father, on my own account. My
-hardest time is over, and I shall soon be doing as
-well as I could wish. I am now thinking of the
-interests of the place at large. It seems too hard
-that the richest man among us should at the same
-time keep away new settlers by holding more
-land than he can cultivate, waste his capital, instead
-of putting it out to those who would employ
-it for his and the common good, and praise himself
-mightily for his liberal expenditure, holding
-the entire community obliged to him for it, every
-time he buys a new luxury which will yield no
-good beyond his own selfish pleasure.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I am afraid you think the community has
-little to thank me for, Arthur? Perhaps, in our
-present state of affairs, the money I have ought to
-go towards tilling the ground, instead of exploring
-the heavens.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"My dear sir, no. I differ from you entirely.
-You do not live beyond your income, nor——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Give your mother the credit of that, Arthur.
-But for her, my little property would have flown
-up to the moon long ago.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“But, father, I was going to say that what I
-and others here produce is but the means of
-living, after all. It would be deplorable to sacrifice
-the end to them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What end? Do you mean the pleasure of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.76'>76</span>star-gazing? I should be delighted to hear
-that.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Pleasure,—whether of star-gazing, or of any
-thing else that is innocent and virtuous,—that is
-really happiness. If Temple is really happy
-over his foreign wines, I am sure I have no more
-objection to his drinking them than to my men
-enjoying their cider. Let it be his end, if he is capable
-of no higher, as long as his pleasures do not
-consume more than his income. Much more may
-I be willing that you should enjoy your star-gazing,
-when out of the gratification to yourself
-arises the knowledge which ennobles human life,
-and the truth for which, if we do not live now,
-we shall assuredly live hereafter."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I have always trusted, Arthur, that the means
-which have been bestowed upon me would not
-prove to be lost. Otherwise, I would have taken
-my axe on my shoulder, and marched off to the
-forest with you.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Father, it is for such as you that forests and
-prairies should be made to yield double, if the
-skill of man could ensure such fruitfulness. It
-is for such as you that the husbandman should
-lead forth his sons before the dawn, and instruct
-them to be happy in toiling for him
-whose light in yon high place is yet twinkling,—who
-has been working out God’s truth for men’s
-use while they slept."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Our husbandmen are not of the kind you
-speak of, Arthur. I see them look up as they
-pass, as if they thought this high chamber a folly
-of the same sort as Temple’s Chinese alcove.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.77'>77</span>“I think you mistake them, sir. I can answer
-for those with whom I have to do. They see all
-the difference between Temple’s restless discontent
-and your cheerfulness. They see that he
-has no thought beyond himself, while you have
-objects of high and serious interest ever before
-your mind’s eye; objects which, not comprehending,
-they can respect, because the issue is a
-manifestation of wisdom and benignity.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Enough! enough!” cried the doctor. "I
-have no complaint to make of my neighbours, I
-am sure. I should be a very ungrateful man, if I
-fancied I had. I am fully aware of the general disposition
-of men to venerate science, and to afford
-large aid to those who pursue it, on a principle of
-faith in its results. My belief in this is not at
-all shaken by what befel me in England; but, as
-I have appeared here accidentally,—a philosopher
-suddenly lighting in an infant community
-instead of having grown up out of it, it was fair
-to doubt the light in which I am regarded. If
-the people hated me as a magician, or despised
-me as an idle man, I think it would be no wonder."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I am glad you hold your faith, father, in the
-natural veneration of society for the great ends
-of human life. I believe it must be a strong influence,
-indeed, which can poison men’s minds
-against their legislators, and philosophers, and
-other wise men who neither dig nor manufacture.
-I believe it must be such a silver tongue as never
-yet spoke that could persuade any nation that its
-philosophers are not its best benefactors.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.78'>78</span>"True. It was not the English nation that
-drove me hither; and those who did it never
-complained of my pursuits,—only of what they
-supposed my principles. I wish I could bear all
-the sorrow of the mistake."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Be satisfied to let them bear some of it,
-father. It will help to guard them against a repetition
-of it. I am sure your own share is
-enough.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In one sense it is, Arthur. Do you know,
-I find myself somewhat changed. I perceive it
-when I settle myself down to my pursuits; and
-to a greater extent than I anticipated. It may
-be owing in part to the want of the facilities I
-had enjoyed for so many years, and never thought
-to part with more. I sometimes wonder whether
-I should be the same man again at home, among——But
-let all that pass. What I was thinking
-of, and what your mother and I oftenest think of,
-is the hardship of your having to bear a part,—so
-large a part in our misfortune. I should wonder
-to see you toiling as you do, from month to
-month,—(for I know that wealth is no great
-object with you,)—if I did not suspect——But
-I beg your pardon. I have no right to force
-your confidence."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Go on, father.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Well, to say the truth, I suspect that you
-left something more behind you than you gave
-us reason to suppose. If you had not come of
-your own free choice, this idea would have made
-both your mother and me very unhappy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I have hopes that she will come, father. I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.79'>79</span>have been waiting to tell you, only for a prospect
-of the time when I might go for her. Nothing
-is settled, or I would have told you long ago; but
-I have hopes.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was so long silent, thinking how
-easily the use of some of Temple’s wasted money
-would have completed Arthur’s happiness ere this,—benefiting
-Temple and the whole community at
-the same time,—that his son feared he was disappointed.
-He had no apprehension of his being
-displeased at any part of his conduct.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I hoped the prospect would have given you
-pleasure, father,” he said, in a tone of deep mortification.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"My dear son, so it does—the greatest satisfaction,
-I assure you; though, indeed, I do not
-know how you were to become aware of it without
-my telling you. I know my wife’s opinion
-of her to be the same as my own. I only hope
-she will be to you all that may repay you for
-what you have been to us: indeed, I have no
-doubt of it."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur was perfectly happy; happy enough to
-observe that the clouds were parting, and that,—as
-science had been so lately pronounced the
-great end for which his father was living,—it
-was a pity his observations should not be renewed.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If science be the great object we think it,”
-observed the doctor the next time he was obliged
-to suspend his labours, “it seems strange that it
-should be pursued by so few. At present, for
-one who devotes himself to the end, thousands
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.80'>80</span>look not beyond the mere means of living. I am
-not afraid to call it the end to you, though I
-would not have done so in my pulpit this morning
-without explanation. We understand one
-another.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Perfectly; that since the full recognition of
-truth is virtue, science is the true end. I hope,
-I believe, I discern the method by which more
-and more labour will be withdrawn from the
-means to be transferred to the end. For a long
-time past,—ever since I have been in the habit
-of comparing you and your pursuits with the
-people about you and their pursuits—ever since
-I came here,—I have been arriving at my present
-conviction, that every circumstance of our
-social condition,—the most trifling worldly interest
-of the meanest of us,—bears its relation
-to this great issue, and aids the force of tendency
-towards it."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You have come hither for something worth
-gaining, then: it is worth while to cross land
-and sea for such a conviction. Can I aid you
-with confirmation from the stars?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"No doubt; for all knowledge, come whence
-it may,—from incalculable heights or unfathomable
-depths,—all new knowledge of the forces of
-nature affords the means of setting free a quantity
-of human labour to be turned to new purposes.
-In the infancy of the race, the mind had
-no instruments but the unassisted hands. By
-degrees, the aid of other natural forces was called
-in; by degrees, those forces have been overruled
-to more and more extended purposes, and further
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.81'>81</span>powers brought into subjection, setting free, at
-every new stage of acquisition, an immense proportion
-of human labour, and affording a glimpse,—almost
-too bright to be met by our yet feeble
-vision,—of times when material production—the
-means of living, shall be turned over to the machinery
-of nature, only superintended by man,
-whose life may then be devoted to science,
-‘worthy of the name,’ which may, in its turn,
-have then become the means to some yet higher
-end than is at present within our ken."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“In those days, then, instead of half-a-dozen
-labourers being virtuously employed in production
-for themselves and one unproductive philosopher,
-the six labourers will themselves have
-become philosophers, supported and cherished by
-the forces of nature, controlled by the intellect of
-perhaps one productive labourer.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Just so; the original philosopher being the
-cause of this easy production by his ascertainment
-of the natural forces in question. This
-result is merely the protraction of the process
-which has been going on from the earliest infancy
-of the race. If Noah, in his first moonlight
-walk upon Ararat, could have seen mirrored
-in the watery waste the long procession of gigantic
-powers which time should lead forth to
-pass under the yoke of man, would he not have
-decided (in his blindness to the new future of
-man) that nothing would be left for man to do?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Probably. And in order to exhibit to him
-the whole case, he must be carried forward to
-man’s new point of view.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.82'>82</span>“And so it will be with some second Noah,
-whose happier lot it shall be to see knowledge
-cover the earth, bearing on its bosom all that is
-worthy of the new heavens and new earth; while
-all that is unworthy of them is sunk and lost.
-By the agency of his gigantic servants he may
-be raised to that pinnacle of the universe whence
-he may choose to look forth again, and see what
-new services are appointed to man, and who are
-the guides and guardians allotted to his higher
-state.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And what will he behold?——But it is
-foolish to inquire. One must be there to know."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"To know fully. But though we can but
-barely speculate upon what he will see, we may
-decidedly pronounce upon what he will not see.
-We cannot tell how many galaxies will be perceived
-to complete the circle of Nature’s crown,
-nor what echoes of her diapason shall be wafted
-to the intent spirit. We cannot tell how near he
-may be permitted to approach to behold the evolution
-of a truth from apparent nothingness, as
-we are apt to fancy a seraph watches the creation
-of one of yonder worlds—first distinguishing
-the dim apparition of an orb emerging from the
-vacuum, then seeing it moulded into order, and
-animated with warmth, and invested with light,
-till myriads of adorers are attracted to behold it
-sent forth by the hand of silence on its everlasting
-way. We cannot tell to what depth man may
-then safely plunge, to repose in the sea-caves,
-and listen to the new tale that its thunders interpret,
-and collect around him the tributaries of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.83'>83</span>knowledge that come thronging down the green
-vistas of ocean light. We cannot tell what way
-will be opened before him to the dim chambers
-of the earth, where Patience presides, while her
-slow and blind agents work in dumb concert from
-age to age, till, the hour being come, the spirit
-of the volcano, or the angel of the deluge, arrives
-to burst their prison-house. Of all these things
-we can yet have but a faint conception; but of
-some things which will not be we can speak with
-certainty."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That when these inanimate powers are found
-to be our best servants, the immortal mind of man
-will be released from the drudgery which may be
-better performed by them. Then, never more
-will the precious term of human life be spent in
-a single manual operation; never more will the
-elastic limbs of children grow rigid under one
-uniform and excessive exercise; never more will
-the spirit sit, self-gnawing, in the fetters to which
-it has been condemned by the tyranny of ignorance,
-which must have its gratifications. Then
-bellows may breathe in the tainted streams of our
-factories, and human lungs be spared, and men’s
-dwellings be filled with luxuries, and no husbandman
-be reduced from his sovereignty of reason
-to a similitude with the cattle of his pastures.
-But much labour has already been set free by
-the employment of the agency of nature; and
-how little has been given to science!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It seems as if there must ever be an intermediate
-state between the discovery of an instrument
-and its application to its final use. I am
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.84'>84</span>far from complaining, as you know, of the nature
-of human demands being what it has been, as,
-from time to time, liberated industry has afforded
-a new supply. I am far from complaining that
-new graces have grown up within the domains
-of the rich, and that new notions of convenience
-require a larger satisfaction day by day. Even
-when I perceive that a hundred heads and hands
-are necessary to the furnishing forth of a gentleman’s
-equipage, and that the wardrobe of a lady
-must consist of, at least, a hundred and sixty
-articles, I am far from wishing that the world
-should be set back to a period when men produced
-nothing but what was undeniably essential.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You would rather lead it on to the time when
-consumption will not be stimulated as it is at
-present?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"When it shall be of a somewhat different
-kind. A perpetual stimulus seems to me to be
-provided for by labour being more and more set
-at liberty, since all the fruits of labour constitute
-at once the demand and the supply. But the
-desires and tastes which have grown up under a
-superabundance of labour and a dearth of science
-are not those which may be looked for when new
-science (which is as much the effect as the cause
-of new methods of production) shall have opened
-fresh worlds to human tastes. The spread of
-luxury, whether it be pronounced a good or an
-evil, is, I conceive, of limited duration. It has
-served, and it still serves, to employ a part of the
-race and amuse another part, while the transition
-is being made from one kind of simplicity to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.85'>85</span>another,—from animal simplicity to intellectual
-simplicity."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The mechanism of society thus resembles
-the mechanism of man’s art. What was done as
-a simple operation by the human arm, is effected
-as a complicated operation by instruments of wood
-and steel. But the time surely comes when this
-complexity is reduced, and the brute instrument
-is brought into a closer and a still closer analogy
-with the original human mechanism. The more
-advanced the art, the simpler the mechanism.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Just so. If, in respect of our household
-furniture, equal purposes of convenience are found
-to be answered by a smaller variety of articles,
-the industry which is thus released will be free
-to turn to the fine arts,—to the multiplication of
-objects which embody truth and set forth beauty,—objects
-which cannot be too extensively multiplied.
-If our ladies, at the same time, discover
-that equal grace and more convenience are attained
-by a simpler costume, a more than classical
-simplicity will prevail, and the toil of operatives
-will be transferred to some higher species
-of production."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We should lose no time, then, in making a
-list of the present essentials of a lady’s wardrobe,
-to be preserved among the records of the race.
-Isaiah has presented one, which exhibits the
-maidens of Judea in their days of wealth. But
-I believe they are transcended by the damsels of
-Britain.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I am sure the British ladies transcend the
-Jewish in their method of justifying their luxury.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.86'>86</span>The Jewesses were satisfied that they enjoyed
-luxury, and looked no farther. The modern ladies
-extol it as a social virtue,—except the few who
-denounce the very enjoyment of it as a crime.
-How long will the two parties go on disputing
-whether luxury be a virtue or a crime?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Till they cease to float themselves on the
-surface of morals on the support of old maxims
-of morality; till they look with their own eyes
-into the evidence of circumstance, and learn to
-make an induction for themselves. They will see
-that each side of the question has its right and its
-wrong; that there is no harm, but much good
-in enjoyment, regarded by itself; and that there
-is no good, but much harm in causing toil which
-tends to the extinction of enjoyment.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“In other words, that Dr. B’s pleasure in
-his picture gallery is a virtuous pleasure while he
-spends upon it only what he can well spare; and
-that Temple’s hot-houses are a vicious luxury,
-if, as we suspect, he is expending upon them the
-capital on which he has taught his labourers to
-depend as a subsistence fund.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Exactly; and that the milk-maid may virtuously
-be married in the silk gown which her
-bridegroom thinks becoming, provided it is purchased
-with her surplus earnings; while an empress
-has no business with a yard of ribbon if she
-buys it after having parted with the last shilling
-of her revenue at the gaming-table. Silk is beautiful.
-If this were all, let every body wear silk;
-but if the consequence of procuring silk be more
-pain to somebody than the wearing of silk gives
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.87'>87</span>pleasure, it becomes a sin to wear silk. A
-thriving London tradesman may thus innocently
-dress his wife and nine daughters in Genoa velvet,
-while the spendthrift nobleman may do a
-guilty deed in arraying himself in a new fashion
-of silk hose.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Our countrywomen may be expected to defend
-all luxurious expenditure as a virtue, while
-their countrymen,—the greyheaded as well as
-youths,—are overheard extolling a war expenditure
-as a public good. Both proceed on the
-notion that benefit resides in mere consumption,
-instead of in the reproduction or in the enjoyment
-which results; that toil is the good itself,
-instead of the condition of the good, without which
-toil is an evil."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If war can be defended as a mode of expenditure
-by any but gunsmiths and army clothiers,
-there is no saying what curse we may not next
-find out to be a blessing. Of all kinds of unproductive
-consumption, that occasioned by war is
-the very worst. Life, and the means of life, are
-there extinguished together, and one might as
-well try to cause the resurrection of a slain army
-on the field of battle, as hope for any return to
-the toil of the labourers who equipped them for
-the strife. The sweat of the artisan falls as
-fruitless as the tears of the widow and orphan.
-For every man that dies of his wounds abroad,
-there is another that pines in hunger at home.
-The hero of to-day may fancy his laurels easily
-won; but he ought to know that his descendants
-of the hundredth generation will not have been
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.88'>88</span>able to pay the last farthing of their purchase-money.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And this is paid, not so much out of the
-luxuries of the rich as the necessaries of the poor.
-It is not so much one kind of unproductive consumption
-being exchanged for another as a productive
-consumption being stinted for the sake
-of an unproductive. The rich may contribute
-some of their revenue to the support of a war,
-but the middling classes give,—some a portion
-of their capital, and others the revenue of which
-they would otherwise make capital,—so that even
-if the debts of a war were not carried forward to a
-future age, the evil consequences of an abstraction
-of capital are."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"It appears, however, as if unproductive consumption
-was much lessened at home during a
-war. One may see the difference in the very
-aspect of the streets in London, and yet more in
-the columns of newspapers. Puffing declines as
-soon as a war breaks out,—not that puffing is a
-sign of any thing but a glut of the article puffed,—but
-this decline of puffing signifies rather a cessation
-of the production of the community than
-such a large demand as needs no stimulating."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Yes; one may now see in London fire-arms
-or scarlet cloth exhibited at the windows of an
-establishment where, during the peace, might be
-found ‘the acmè of paper-hanging;’ and where
-might formerly be had floor-cloth of a marvellous
-number of yards without seam, whose praises
-were blazoned in large letters from the roof to
-the ground, ball cartridges are piled, and gunpowder
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.89'>89</span>stands guarded, day and night. Since
-gluts work their own cure, and puffing comes of
-gluts, puffing is only a temporary absurdity.
-Long may it be before we are afflicted with it
-here!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Afflicted?—Well! looked at by itself, perhaps
-it is an affliction, as all violations of truth,
-all exhibitions of folly, are; but one may draw
-pleasure too from every thing which is a sign of
-the times."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, yes; there is not only the strong present
-pleasure of philosophising on states of society,
-but every indication of what it serves to the
-thinker, at the same time, as a prophecy of better
-things that shall be. But, do you not find it
-pleasanter to go to worship, as we went this
-morning, through green pastures and by still
-waters, where human industry made its appeals
-to us in eloquent silence, and men’s dwellings bore
-entire the aspect of sabbath repose, than to pass
-through paved streets, with a horizon of brick-walls,
-and tokens on every side, not only of
-week day labour, but of struggle for subsistence,
-and subservience for bread? The London shopkeepers
-do not remove their signs on a Sunday.
-If one catches a glimpse here and there of a
-spectacled old gentleman reading his Bible in
-the first-floor parlour, or meets a train of spruce
-children issuing from their father’s door at the
-sound of the church-bell, one sees, at the same
-time, that their business is to push the sale of
-floor-cloth without seam, and to boast of the
-acmè of paper-hanging.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.90'>90</span>"There may be more immediate pleasure in
-the one Sabbath walk than in the other, Arthur,
-but they yield, perhaps, equally the aliment of
-piety. Whatever indicates the condition of man,
-points out, not only the species of duty owing to
-man, but the species of homage due to God,—the
-character of the petitions appropriate to the
-season. All the methods of going to worship
-may serve the purpose of preparation for the sanctuary.
-The nobleman may lean back in his carriage
-to meditate; the priest may stalk along in
-reverie, unconscious of all around him; the citizen-father
-may look with pride on the train of
-little ones with whom he may spend the leisure
-of this day; and the observing philanthropist
-may go forth early and see a thousand incidents
-by the way, and all may alike enter the church-door
-with raised and softened hearts."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And all listen with equal faith to the promise
-of peace on earth and good-will to men?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes, and the observer not the least, if he
-observe for holy purposes.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"O, father, think of the gin-shop and the
-news-office that he must pass by the way! They
-are infinitely worse than the visible puffery.
-Think of the thronged green-grocer’s shop, where
-you may see a widow in her soiled weeds, flushed
-with drink, careless of the little ones that cling
-to her gown, hungering as they are for the few
-potatoes which are all she can purchase after
-having had her morning dram!—Think of the
-father cheapening the refuse of the Saturday’s
-market, and passing on, at last, wondering when
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.91'>91</span>his pale family will again taste meat! Think of
-the insolent footmen, impeding the way to the
-church-door, while they amuse themselves with
-the latest record of licentiousness in the paper of
-the day!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I have often seen all this, Arthur, and have
-found in it——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Nothing that necessarily hardens the heart,
-I know; on the contrary, the compassion excited
-is so painful that devotion is at times the only
-refuge. But as for the congeniality——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What is the value of faith, if it cannot assimilate
-all things to itself? And as for Christian
-faith, where and amidst what circumstances did
-it arise? Was it necessary, in going up to the
-temple, to overlook the blind beside the way, and
-to stop the ears when the contention of brethren
-was heard, and to avoid the proud Pharisee and
-the degraded publican? Was the repose of the
-spirit broken when an adultress entered the sacred
-precincts? Were the avenues to the temple
-blocked up that the holy might worship in peace?
-And when they issued forth, were they sent
-home to their closets, forbidden to look to the
-right hand or to the left for fear of defilement?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If so, it was by order of the Pharisees. You
-are right, father. The holiest did not even find
-it necessary to resort to mountain solitudes, or to
-the abodes of those who were pure as themselves,
-for the support of their faith or the repose of their
-devotion. Aliment for piety was found at the
-table of the publican, and among the sufferers
-beside Bethesda. To the pure every emotion
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.92'>92</span>became a refining process, and whatever was not
-found congenial was made so. It may certainly
-be the same with the wise and the benignant of
-every age.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is indeed a halting faith which dreads as
-common that which God has cleansed and sanctified;
-and where is God’s own mark to be recognized
-but in the presence of joy and sorrow,
-of which he is the sole originator and distributor?
-Whatever bears a relation to joy and sorrow is a
-call to devotion; and no path to the sanctuary is
-more sacred than another, while there are traces
-of human beings by the way.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You prefer then the pastures which tell of
-our prosperity to the wilds of the prairie; and I
-observed that you dwelt upon the portraits of
-familiar faces before you left your study this
-morning.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I did; and many a time have I dwelt quite
-as earnestly on strange faces in which shone no
-friendship for me, and no consciousness of the
-objects of the day. I read in their human countenance,—human,
-whether it be vile or noble,—the
-promise, that as all things are for some use,
-and as all men contribute while all have need, the
-due distribution will in time be made, causes of
-contention be done away, and the sources of
-social misery be dried up, so that——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"So that we may, through all present dismay
-and vicissitude, look forward to ultimate peace on
-earth and good-will towards men. Yes, all things
-are of use to some, from the stalk of flax that
-waves in my field below, to Orion now showing
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.93'>93</span>himself as the black cloud draws off,—all for purposes
-of support to body or mind,—all, whether
-appropriated, or left at large because they cannot
-be appropriated. Let us hope that each will,
-at length, have his share; and as Providence has
-placed no limit to the enjoyment of his gifts but
-that of food, we may learn so to understand one
-another’s desires as mutually to satisfy them;
-so that there may not be too much of one thing
-to the injury of some, and too little of another
-thing, to the deprivation of more."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If we could but calculate the present uses of
-any one gift!” said Dr. Sneyd, smiling; “but
-this is a task for the philosophers of another age,
-or another state. I would fain know how many
-living beings are reposing or pasturing on your
-flax-stalk, and how much service will be rendered
-in the course of the processes it has to go through.
-I would fain know how many besides ourselves
-are drawing from yonder constellation knowledge
-and pleasure.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“More than there are stars in the heaven,
-besides the myriads that have their home in one
-or other of its worlds. What more knowledge
-are we to derive to-night?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>And Arthur returned to his seat and his task,
-which he had quitted while the sky was clouded.
-His father observed, with surprise, how far the
-twinkling lights had travelled from their former
-place.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is later than I thought, Arthur,” said he.
-“I ought not to have kept you so long from
-your rest, busy as your days are.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.94'>94</span>Arthur was quite disposed to go on, till sunrise,
-if his father wished to take advantage of his
-services. He must meet his men very early in
-the dewy morning to mow, and the night was
-now so far advanced that it would be as well to
-watch it out. Dr. Sneyd was very <a id='corr94.5'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='thankfnl'>thankful</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_94.5'><ins class='correction'>thankful</ins></a></span> for
-his aid. When they had satisfied themselves that
-the household were gone to rest, and had replenished
-the lamp, nothing but brief directions
-and the ticking of the watch was again heard in
-this upper chamber till the chirping of birds summoned
-the mower to fetch his scythe.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.5' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter V.</span><br> <br> INTRODUCTIONS.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>The true cause of Mr. Temple’s Sunday headache
-was spleen at the occurrence of the morning.
-That Dr. Sneyd should preach, and in a market-house,
-and that soldiers should come some miles
-to hear him was, he declared, a perfect scandal
-to the settlement. He could not countenance it.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The scandal continued, without the countenance
-of the scrupulous gentleman, till the autumn,
-when the reason of certain magnificent doings at
-Temple Hall began to be apparent. Probably
-the only persons who could have told what all
-this new building meant were forbidden to do so,
-as Mrs. Sneyd could never obtain a word from
-her daughter in return for all her conjectures
-about what the Lodge was to grow into at last,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.95'>95</span>the builders having no sooner done one task than
-they had to set about another. There was infinite
-hurry and bustle about these last additions.
-Workmen were brought from a distance to
-relieve those on the spot, that no part of the long
-summer days might be lost. Wall rose above
-wall; beam followed beam from the forest, and
-planks issued from the sawpit with marvellous
-speed. One would have thought the President
-was expected on a visit before winter; and, in
-fact, a rumour was current in the village that
-some new capitalists were coming to look about
-them, and were to be tempted to abide on some
-of the great man’s lands. This seemed the more
-probable as a substantial house was being built
-in the Lodge grounds, besides the new wing (as
-it appeared to be) of the mansion itself. Every
-body agreed that this house must be intended for
-somebody.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The truth burst forth, one day late in the
-autumn, that seats instead of partitions were
-being put up in the new building, and that the
-windows were to be unlike those of the rest of
-the house:—in short, that it was to be a chapel.
-The servants spread abroad the fact that company
-was expected in a few days; to stay, they
-believed, all the winter.—Ay! till the new house
-should be ready, every body supposed. Meantime,
-Mrs. Temple said nothing more to her
-family than that friends of Mr. Temple’s were
-shortly coming to stay at the Lodge. She had
-never seen them, and knew but little about
-them:—hoped they might prove an acquisition
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.96'>96</span>to her father:—depended upon Arthur’s civilities,
-if he should have it in his power,—and so forth.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was seldom that Mr. Temple called on his
-father-in-law,—especially in the middle of the day,
-when less irksome things could be found to do;
-but, one bright noon, he was perceived approaching
-the house, driving the barouche, in which
-were seated two ladies and a gentleman, besides
-the heir of Temple Lodge. Dr. Sneyd stepped
-out of his low window into the garden, and met
-them near the gate, where he was introduced to
-the Rev. Ralph Hesselden, pastor of Briery
-Creek, and Mrs. Hesselden.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The picturesque clergyman and his showy lady
-testified all outward respect to the venerable old
-man before them. They forgot for a moment
-what they had been told of his politics being
-"sad, very sad; quite deplorable,"—and
-remembered only that he was the father of their
-hostess. It was not till a full half hour after
-that they became duly shocked at a man of his
-powers having been given over to the delusions
-of human reason, and at his profaneness in having
-dared to set up for a guide to others while he was
-himself blinded in the darkness of error. There
-was so little that told of delusion in the calm
-simplicity of the doctor’s countenance, and something
-so unlike profaneness and presumption in
-his mild and serious manners, that it was not
-surprising that his guests were so long in discovering
-the evil that was in him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd was busy about a task into which
-she put no small share of her energies. She had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.97'>97</span>heard that nothing that could be eaten was half
-so good as pomegranate preserve, well made.
-In concert with Arthur, she had grown <a id='corr97.3'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='promegranates'>pomegranates</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_97.3'><ins class='correction'>pomegranates</ins></a></span>
-with great success, and she was this
-morning engaged in preserving them; using her
-utmost skill, in the hope that if it should prove
-an impossible thing to make her husband care
-for one preserve rather than another while he
-was in health, this might be an acceptable refreshment
-in case of sickness; or that, at least,
-Temmy would relish the luxury; and possibly
-Temple himself be soothed by it in one of the
-fits of spleen with which he was apt to cloud the
-morning meal.—The mess was stewing, and the
-lady sipping and stirring, when her husband
-came to tell her who had arrived, and to request
-her to appear;—came instead of sending, to give
-her the opportunity of removing all traces of
-mortification before she entered the room.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Mr. and Mrs. Who?—a pastor? what, a
-methodist?—chaplain at the Lodge, and pastor of
-Briery Creek?—My dear, this is aimed at you."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"One can hardly say that, as I only preached
-because there was no one else.—I must not stay.
-You will come directly, my dear."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I do not see how I can, my dear,"—glancing
-from her husband to her stewpan, under a sense
-of outraged affection with respect to both of
-them. “To take one so by surprise! I am sure
-it was done on purpose,”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Then let us carry it off with as little consternation
-as we can. Peggy will take your
-place.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.98'>98</span>"And spoil all I have been doing, I know.
-And my face is so scorched, I am not fit to be
-seen.—I’ll tell you what, my dear," she went on,
-surrendering her long spoon to Peggy, and
-whisking off her apron,—“if I appear now, I
-will not go and hear this man preach. I cannot
-be expected to do that.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We will see about that when Sunday comes,”
-the doctor turned back to say, as he hastened
-back to the party who were amusing themselves
-with admiring the early drawings of Mrs. Temple,
-which hung against the walls of her mother’s
-parlour. The doctor brought in with him a
-literary journal of a later date than any which
-had arrived at the Lodge, and no one suspected
-that he had been ministering to his wife’s good
-manners. Mrs. Temple was in pain for what
-might follow the introduction.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>There was no occasion for her inward tremors,
-nor for Dr. Sneyd’s quick glance at his wife over
-his spectacles. Mrs. Sneyd might be fully
-trusted to preserve her husband’s dignity. She
-instantly appeared,—so courteous and self-possessed
-that no one could have perceived that
-she had been hurried. The scorched cheeks
-passed with the strangers for the ruddy health
-attendant on a country life, and they benevolently
-rejoiced that she seemed likely to have some time
-before her yet, in which to retract her heresies,
-and repent of all that she had believed and acted
-upon through life. It was cheering to think of
-the safety that might await her, if she should
-happily survive the doctor, and come under their
-immediate guidance.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.99'>99</span>The ladies were left to themselves while Temple
-was grimacing (as he did in certain states of
-nervousness) and whipping the shining toe of his
-right boot, and the other gentleman making the
-plunge into science and literature in which the
-doctor always led the way when he could lay
-hold of a man of education. One shade of
-disappointment after another passed over his
-countenance when he was met with questions
-whether one philosopher was not pursuing his
-researches into regions whence many had returned
-infidels,—with conjectures whether an eminent
-patriot was not living without God in the world,—and
-with doubts whether a venerable philanthropist
-might still be confided in, since he had gone hand
-in hand in a good work with a man of doubtful
-seriousness. At last, his patience seemed to be
-put to the proof, for his daughter heard him say,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Well, sir, as neither you nor I are infidels,
-nor likely to become so, suppose we let that
-matter pass. Our part is with the good tidings
-of great deeds doing on the other side of the
-world. The faith of the doers is between themselves
-and their God.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"But, sir, consider the value of a lost soul—"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I have so much hope of many souls being
-saved by every measure of wise policy and true
-philanthropy, that I cannot mar my satisfaction
-by groundless doubts of the safety of the movers.
-Let us take advantage of the permission to judge
-them by their fruits, and then, it seems to me, we
-may make ourselves very easy respecting them.
-Can you satisfy me about this new method,—it
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.100'>100</span>is of immense importance,—of grinding
-lenses——”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Hesselden could scarcely listen further, so
-shocked was he with the doctor’s levity and
-laxity in being eager about bringing new worlds
-within human ken, while there seemed to the
-pious a doubt whether the agents of divine wisdom
-and benignity would be cared for by him who
-sent them.—Mr. Hesselden solemnly elevated his
-eyebrows, as he looked towards his wife; and the
-glance took effect. The lady began inquiring of
-Mrs. Sneyd respecting the spiritual affairs of the
-settlement. She hoped the population had a
-serious turn.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Why, Madam,” replied Mrs. Sneyd, “every
-thing has so conduced to sober the minds of our
-neighbours, that there has been little room yet
-for frivolity among us. The circumstances of
-hardship, of one kind or another, that led us all
-from our old homes were very serious; and it is
-a serious matter to quit country and family and
-friends; and the first casting about for subsistence
-in a new land is enough to bring thought into the
-wildest brain; and now, when we have gathered
-many comforts about us, and can thank Providence
-with full hearts, we are not at liberty for
-idleness and levity. I assure you that Dr. Sneyd
-has had to enlarge more against anxiety for the
-morrow than against carelessness or vain-glory.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I rejoice to hear it. This is good as far as it
-goes. But I was inquiring about more important
-affairs.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In more important matters still, I hope you
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.101'>101</span>will find much that is encouraging. We are
-naturally free from the vices of extreme wealth or
-poverty. Among the few whose labours have
-proved fruitful, there is a sobriety of manners
-which I think will please you; and none are so
-poor as to be tempted to dishonesty, or driven
-into recklessness. The cry of ‘stop thief’ has
-never been heard in Briery Creek, and you will
-neither meet a drunken man nor a damsel dressed
-in <a id='corr101.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='tawdy'>tawdry</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_101.10'><ins class='correction'>tawdry</ins></a></span> finery.—By the way, Louisa," she
-continued, addressing her daughter, “I am sorry
-there is any difficulty about Rundell’s getting
-more land, and Chapman’s setting up a general
-store. I have some fears that as our neighbours’
-earnings increase, we may see them spent in idle
-luxuries, unless there is a facility in making a
-profitable investment.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Where is the difficulty, ma’am?” asked Mrs.
-Temple. “If Rundell wants land, I rather think
-Mr. Temple has plenty for him.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I understand not.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple was about to argue the matter on
-the ground of her husband’s thousands of uncultivated
-acres, but recollecting that there might
-be more in the matter than was apparent to her,
-she stopped short, and there was a pause.—At
-length, Mrs. Hesselden, turning the fullest aspect
-of her enormous white chip bonnet on Mrs.
-Sneyd, supposed that as the neighbourhood was
-so very moral, there were no public amusements
-in Briery Creek.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I am sorry to say there are none at present.
-Dr. Sneyd and my son begin, next week, a humble
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.102'>102</span>attempt at a place of evening resort; and now
-that Mr. Hesselden will be here to assist them, I
-hope our people will soon be provided with a
-sufficiency of harmless amusement.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"You begin next week?—A prayer meeting?"
-asked the lady, turning to Mrs. Temple. Mrs.
-Temple believed not.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We <i>have</i> our meetings for intercourse on
-the subjects you refer to,” replied Mrs. Sneyd;
-“but I understood you to be inquiring about
-places of amusement. My son presented the
-settlement with a cricket ground lately.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“A cricket ground, was it?” said Mrs. Temple.
-“I thought it had been a bleaching ground.
-I understood it was the ladies of the place who
-were to be the better for his bounty.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"That is true also. The same ground serves
-the washers on the Monday morning, and the
-cricketers on the Saturday afternoon. You must
-know, Mrs Hesselden, there is much trouble here
-in getting soap enough,—and also candles,—for
-the purposes of all. There is some objection, I
-find, to a general store being set up; so that
-only the richer of our neighbours can obtain a regular
-supply of certain necessary articles; and
-the poorer ones are just those who find it most
-expensive and troublesome to make all the soap
-and candles they want. My son, knowing how
-much consumption is saved by association, as he
-says, had a view to these poorer settlers in opening
-the bleaching ground. They are truly glad to
-get their linen washed twice as well in the field as
-at home, and at half the expense of soap. They
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.103'>103</span>are very willing to clear the place for the cricketers
-three afternoons in the week; and are
-already beginning to pay off the cost incurred
-for the shed, with the boilers and troughs. I
-really hardly know which is the prettiest sight,—the
-games of the active young men, when they
-forget the worldly calculations which are apt to
-engross new settlers too much,—or the merry
-maidens in the field at noon, spreading out linen
-and blankets of a whiteness that would be envied
-by most of the professional laundresses that I
-have known."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“All these things,” observed Mrs. Hesselden,
-"are of inferior consequence. I mean——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Very true: I mention them chiefly as signs
-of the times—not as the limit to which our improvements
-have extended. We are anxious to
-provide a reading-room for the youths, at the
-same time that we open our school. My daughter
-has no doubt told you about the school which
-she is helping to form. We find that the newspapers
-and journals which were always deposited
-in the cricket-ground were so much relished by
-the players in the intervals of their games, that
-Dr. Sneyd and my son have determined to light
-up and warm the school-house every evening
-during the winter, to be the resort of all who
-choose to go. Dr. Sneyd carries there the humble
-beginning of a museum of natural history,
-which it must be the care of our neighbours to
-improve. They can easily do so by exchanging
-the productions of our forest and prairie for what
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.104'>104</span>may be obtained from the societies Dr. Sneyd is
-connected with in England and France. All the
-publications sent to us will find their way to the
-school-house; and when the snow comes to enable
-a sleigh to bring us the packages of glass we
-have been waiting for these eight months, the
-doctor will erect his large telescope, and send an
-inferior one down to the village for the use of his
-star-gazing neighbours."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Observing Mrs. Hesselden’s supercilious silence,
-Mrs. Sneyd proceeded, smiling,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I have had my share in the ordering of the
-affair, and have carried two points, <i>nem. con.</i>
-The women are allowed as free ingress as their
-husbands and brothers. I mentioned that candles
-were scarce, and you do not need to be told that
-much sewing must be done in our households.
-By bringing their work to the school-house,
-(which is within a stone’s throw of most of the
-doors,) many of our hard-working mothers and
-daughters will be spared the trouble and expense
-of making above half as many candles as if each
-must have one burning during the whole of the
-long evenings of winter. What is more important,—they
-will share the benefit of the reading
-and other amusements that may be going on.
-My other point is the dancing. I told Dr. Sneyd
-that if he carried a telescope, and made them chill
-themselves with star-gazing, I must beg leave to
-carry a fiddle for them to warm their feet by when
-they had done. Two fiddlers have turned up
-already, and there are rumours of a flute-player;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.105'>105</span>and I have half promised my grandchild to lead
-off the first dance, if he will persuade my son to
-take me for a partner."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Hesselden hoped that others would also
-be allowed to carry their points, and then there
-would be prayer on meeting and parting in the
-school-house. If it should be found that such an
-exercise was incompatible with the dancing part
-of the scheme, she trusted Mrs. Sneyd saw which
-must give <a id='corr109.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='way.”'>way.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_109.10'><ins class='correction'>way.</ins></a></span></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd would advocate no practice which
-was incompatible with religious duty. In the
-present case, she thought that the only concession
-required was that each exercise should have its
-proper season. None of the usual objections to
-dancing would hold good here, she continued.
-No shivering wretches stood without, while the rich
-were making merry. There was no inducement to
-extravagance, and no room for imprudence, and no
-encouragement to idleness. There was no scope
-for these vices among the working-class of Briery
-Creek, and dancing was to them (what it would
-be in many another place, if permitted) an innocent
-enjoyment, a preventive of much solitary
-self-indulgence, and a sweetener of many tempers.
-In a society whose great danger was the
-growth of a binding spirit of worldliness, social
-mirth was an antidote which no moralist would
-condemn, and which he would not dare to despise.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Hesselden, fearing that she could never
-make Mrs. Sneyd comprehend how much more
-she and her husband were than mere moralists,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.106'>106</span>quitted the subject till she could explain to Mrs.
-Temple on the way home, that though the presence
-of the Sneyds had undoubtedly been of
-great use in fostering a morality which was better
-than nothing, yet it was evidently high time that
-more should be added, and certainly a great
-blessing to Briery Creek that her husband and
-she had arrived to breathe inspiration into the
-social mass which was now lying,—if not dead,—yet
-under the shadow of death.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd found time, before returning to
-her pomegranates, to take a last wondering look
-at the immensity of Mrs. Hesselden’s chip bonnet,
-as it floated, splendid in its variegated trimming,
-over the shrubs in her passage to the garden
-gate.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I can never make out,” she observed to her
-husband, "why so many of these very strict religious
-people dress so luxuriously as they do.
-Here is this lady,—infinitely scandalized, I perceive,
-at our having introduced dancing,—dressed
-after such a fashion as our maidens never
-saw before. If they begin to bedizen themselves
-with the money which might be spent profitably
-in increasing the means of subsistence, or innocently
-in procuring substantial comforts which
-are now difficult to be had, I shall lay the blame
-on Mrs. Hesselden’s bonnet. I remember observing
-that I never saw so splendid a show-room
-for dress as the new church we attended, in ——-
-street, the Sunday before we left London. It is
-very odd."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Not more strange, my dear, than that the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.107'>107</span>Friends should addict themselves much to the
-furnishing their houses with expensive furniture,
-and their tables with more costly and various
-foods than other people. Not more strange than
-that Martin, the Methodist, should turn strolling
-player when he gave up his methodism; or that
-the Irish betake themselves to rebellion when
-stopped in their merry-makings; or that the English
-artizan takes to the gin-shop when the fiddle
-is prohibited in the public-house. Not more
-strange, my dear, than that the steam of your
-kettle should come out at the lid, if you stop up
-the spout, or than that——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, you put me in mind of my preserves!
-But how did you think Louisa looked to-day?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Not very well. There was a something—I
-do not know what——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Well, I wondered whether you would observe.
-It may be the contrast of Mrs. Hesselden’s dress
-that made me remark the thing so much. It
-really vexed me to see Louisa so dressed. That
-collar was darned like any stocking-heel; and
-how she got her bonnet ribbons dyed in this place,
-I cannot think. What can be the meaning of
-her being so shabby? It is so contrary to her
-taste,—unless she has taken up a new taste, for
-want of something to do."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd shook his head. He knew that
-Temple left his lady no lack of something to do.
-Temmy had also dropped a piece of information
-about wax candles lately, which convinced the
-doctor that the lady at the Hall was now compelled
-to economize to the last degree in her own
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.108'>108</span>expenditure, whatever indulgence might still be
-afforded to her tyrant’s tastes.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>He</i> looks wretchedly too,” observed Mrs.
-Sneyd. “Not all his spruceness could hide it, if
-he was as spruce as ever. But there is a change
-in him too. One might almost call his ensemble
-slovenly to-day, though it would be neatness itself
-in many another man. I believe he half kills
-himself with snuff. He did nothing but open
-and shut his box to-day. So much snuff must be
-very bad for a nervous man like him.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do you know, my dear,” said the doctor,
-"I have been thinking lately whether we are not
-all rather hard upon that poor man——Yes, yes,
-I know. I am not going to defend, only to excuse
-him a little. I am as unhappy as you can
-be about all that Louisa has to go through with
-him, and about his spoiling that poor boy for life,—doing
-all that can be done to make him a dolt.
-But I am sure the man suffers—suffers dreadfully."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Suffers! How?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Nay, you need but look in his face to see
-whether he is a happy man or not; but what his
-ailments are, I do not pretend to say. His nerves
-torture him, I am certain——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd insinuated speculations about indulgence
-in brandy, opium, spices, &c., and about
-remorse, fear, and the whole demon band of the
-passions. Dr. Sneyd’s conjecture was that Temple’s
-affairs were in an unsatisfactory condition,
-and that this trouble, acting on the mind of a coward,
-probably drove him to the use of sufficient stimulus
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.109'>109</span>to irritate instead of relieving him. Great
-allowance, he insisted, should be made for a man
-in so pitiable a state, even by the parents of his
-wife. This was so effectually admitted by the
-good lady, that she not only sent a double portion
-of pomegranate preserve to the Lodge, but restrained
-her anger when she heard that Rundell
-could not obtain liberty to invest as he pleased
-the capital he had saved, owing to Temple’s evil
-influence at the land-office; and that Arthur’s
-interests were wantonly injured by his interference.
-Arthur had taken great pains to secure a
-supply of fresh meat and fresh butter for the approaching
-winter; and besides the hope of profit
-from his fine sheep and cows, he had the assurance
-of the gratitude of his neighbours, who had
-grown heartily weary of salt pork and salt butter
-the winter before. But Mr. Temple now set up
-a grand salting establishment; and made it generally
-understood that only those who were
-prudent enough to furnish themselves with his
-cheap salt provision, rather than Mr. Sneyd’s
-dear mutton, should have his custom in the market,
-and his countenance at the land-office. Arthur’s
-first-slain sheep had to be eaten up by his
-father’s household and his own; and it was a
-piece of great forbearance in Mrs. Sneyd, when
-she heard that Arthur meant to kill no more
-mutton, to say only, “The poor little man punishes
-nobody so much as himself. I do not see
-how he can relish his own fresh mutton very
-much, while he prevents other people having
-any.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.110'>110</span>“He cannot altogether prevent that, mother,”
-said Arthur. "He may prevent mutton bearing
-any price in the market, and cut off my gains;
-but we may still slay a sheep now and then, for
-ourselves; and find neighbours who will quietly
-make such an exchange of presents as will take
-off what we cannot consume. But I wish I
-could see an end of this dictation,—this tyranny."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It does seem rather strange to have come to
-a land of freedom to be in the power of such a
-despot. I wonder the people do not shake him
-off, and send him to play the tyrant farther in
-the wilds.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“They are only waiting till his substance is all
-consumed, I fancy. He has such a hold over the
-investments of some, and finds so much employment
-for the labour of others, that they will submit
-to everything for a time. But his hour will
-come, if he does not beware.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It may be all very well for those who have
-investments to take time to extricate their capital
-from his grasp,” said Mrs. Sneyd; “but as for
-the builders and gardeners he employs, I think
-they would be wiser if they carried their labour
-where they might depend on a more lasting demand
-for it. Anybody may see that if he spends
-more every year in undoing what he did the year
-before, his substance must soon come to an end,
-and his labourers become his creditors. If I
-were they, I would rather go and build barns that
-are paid for by the preservation of the corn that
-is in them, and till fields that will maintain the
-labour of tillage, and set more to work next year,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.111'>111</span>than turn round a fine house from south to west,
-and from west to south, and change shrubberies
-into lawns, and lawns into flower-gardens, knowing
-that such waste must come to an end.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“But some do not believe that it is waste, mother.
-They see the money that pays them still in
-existence, still going the round of the market;
-and they talk (as some people in England do
-about royal palaces, and spendthrift noblemen’s
-establishments) of the blessing of a liberal expenditure,
-and the patriotism of employing so
-much labour.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Which would be all very well if the labourers
-lived upon the sight of the money they are paid
-with. But, as long as that money is changed
-many times over for bread and clothing, which
-all disappears in the process, it is difficult to make
-out that anything is gained but the pleasure,—which
-may be justifiable or not, according to the
-circumstances of the employers. In the end, the
-money remains as it was before, and instead of so
-much food and clothing, there is a royal palace.
-If you do not like your palace, and pull it down
-and rebuild it, the money exists as before, and for
-a double quantity of food and clothing, you still
-have a palace."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The wrong notion you speak of arises partly,”
-said Dr. Sneyd, “from a confusion between one
-sort of unproductive expenditure and another.
-People hear of its being a fine thing to employ a
-crowd of labourers in making a new line of road,
-or building a bridge, and they immediately suppose
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.112'>112</span>it must be a patriotic thing to employ a
-crowd of labourers in building any thing.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I think they might perceive that, though
-corn does not grow on a high road, nor bridges
-yield manufactures, the value of corn lands may
-be doubled by opening a way to a new market,
-and that an unused water power may begin to
-yield wealth from the moment that there is a
-bridge over which buyers may come for it. It is
-a misfortune to Briery Creek that Temple is
-more of a selfish palace-fancier than a patriotic
-bridge and road maker.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The first Sunday of the opening of the chapel,
-Temple appeared in a character which he had
-only once before attempted to support. On the
-occasion of using the market-house for service,
-he had approached the door, cast a glance within
-upon the company of soldiers, and the village
-population at their worship, while their aged
-friend was leading their devotions, and hastily
-departed, thankful that he was too pious to join
-in such a service as this. He took the part of a
-religious man that day, and now was the time for
-him to resume the character. Under the idea
-that the market-house might be opened as usual
-for Dr. Sneyd, making his own appear like an
-opposition place of worship, he spared no pains
-to secure a majority in point of audience. He
-had managed to ride past the military post, and
-be gracious with the soldiers. His domestics
-puffed the chapel and chaplain at market, the day
-before, and the leading villagers received intimations
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.113'>113</span>of good sittings being appropriated to
-them. These pains might have been spared.
-All who desired might know that Dr. Sneyd, his
-wife, son, and servants intended to be present, as
-a matter of course.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When they entered, Temple looked nearly as
-much surprised as if they had at the moment
-arrived from England. He made a prodigious
-bustle about having them accommodated in a
-seat next his own, and condescendingly sent
-them books, and inquired into the sufficiency of
-hassocks. During the greater part of the service
-he stood up, as if he could not listen with sufficient
-attention while sitting, like other people.
-Yet he cleared his throat if any body moved,
-and sent his pert glance into every corner to
-command a reverential demeanour, while his
-chaplain was enforcing, as the prime glory and
-charm of a place of worship, that there, and there
-alone, all are equal and all are free. Little Ephraim
-cowered behind the coachman while the preacher
-insisted that here the humblest slave might stand
-erect on the ground of his humanity; and the
-butler stepped on tiptoe half way down the aisle
-to huff Jenkins the ditcher for coming so high
-up, at the very moment that something was
-quoted about a gold ring and purple raiment in
-the synagogue.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was true the preacher and his message had
-not so good a chance of being attended to as they
-might have on future Sundays. The bustle produced
-by the anticipation of the occasion did not
-subside on the arrival of the occasion. The fine
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.114'>114</span>large chip bonnets had been procured, and the
-trimming and sending them home had been
-achieved by the Saturday night. But it remained
-to wear them for the first time: not only to support
-the consciousness of a new piece of finery,
-but to compare the fine bonnets with the shabby
-head-gear of other people, with each other, and,
-finally, with Mrs. Hesselden’s. Then, while Mrs.
-Dods was thus contemplating the effect of her
-own peculiar species of architecture, her husband
-could not but look round him, and remember that
-every individual brick of this pile had been fashioned
-by himself and his lads. The builder
-scanned the measurements of the windows and
-the ceiling. Two or three boys and girls shuffled
-their feet on the matting which their mother had
-woven. A trader from the north gradually made
-up his mind to approach the ladies after service,
-for the purpose of recommending fur pouches
-for the feet during the severe season that was
-approaching. The Brawnees, unincumbered by
-any thing beyond their working-day apparel, were
-among the best listeners. Temmy was so alarmed
-at the prospect of having to give his father, for
-the first time, an account of the sermon, that
-he could not have taken in a word of it, even if
-he had not been miserable at seeing the tears
-coursing one another down his mother’s cheeks
-during the whole time of the service. Her left
-hand hung by her side, but he did not dare to
-touch it. He looked at Mrs. Hesselden to try
-to find out whether she thought his mother was
-ill; or whether the sermon was affecting; or
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.115'>115</span>whether this was the consequence of something
-that had been said at breakfast against grandpapa.
-Grandpapa seemed to be listening very
-serenely to the sermon, and that was a better
-comfort than Mrs. Hesselden’s countenance,—so
-grave, that Temmy feared to provoke a cross
-word if he looked at her again.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was not known, till the ladies of the village
-ranged themselves round the work-table in the
-school-house, one chilly evening, soon afterwards,
-how great had been the bustle of preparation
-before the fine chip bonnets made their appearance
-in the chapel. All hearts, even those of
-rival milliners, were laid open by the sight of the
-roaring wood fire, the superior candles, the
-hearty welcome, and the smiling company that
-awaited them as they dropped in at the place of
-entertainment,—the women with their sewing
-apparatus, and their husbands and brothers ready
-for whatever occupation might have been devised
-for their leisure evening hours. While these
-latter crowded round the little library, to see of
-what it consisted, the sewers placed their benches
-round the deal table, snuffed their candles, and
-opened their bundles of work. Mrs. Dods made
-no mystery of her task. She was cutting up a
-large chip bonnet to make two small hats for
-her youngest boy and girl, owning that, not having
-calculated on any one else attempting to
-gratify the rage for imitating Mrs. Hesselden,
-she had injured her speculation by overstocking
-the market. The lawyer’s lady had been reckoned
-upon as a certain customer; but it turned out,—however
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.116'>116</span>true that the lawyer’s lady must have a
-chip bonnet,—that the builder’s wife had just
-then entered upon a rivalship with the brickmaker’s
-wife, and had stuck up at her window bonnets a
-trifle cheaper than those of Mrs. Dods. It only
-remained for Mrs. Dods to show how pretty her
-little folks looked in hats of the fashionable material,
-in hopes that the demand might spread to
-children.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If it does, Mrs. Dods, Martha Jenkins will
-have the same reason to complain of you that
-you have to complain of being interfered with.
-It is unknown the trouble that Jenkins has had,
-following the river till he came to the beavers,
-and then hunting them, and preparing their skins
-at home, and all that, while Martha spared no
-pains to make beaver hats for all the boys and
-girls in the place. It will be rather hard if you
-cut her out.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And you can do it only by lowering your
-price ruinously,” observed Mrs. Sneyd. “I
-should think any mother in Briery Creek would
-rather keep her child’s ears from freezing by putting
-on her a warm beaver, than dress her out
-prettily in a light chip, at this season. Nothing
-but a great difference in price can give yours the
-preference, I should think, Mrs. Dods.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Then such a difference there must be,” Mrs.
-Dods replied. “I had rather sell my article
-cheap than not sell it at all. Another time I
-shall take care how I run myself out at elbows
-in providing for a new fashion among the ladies.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd thought that those were engaged
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.117'>117</span>in the safest traffic who dealt in articles in the
-commonest use,—who looked for custom chiefly
-from the lower, i.e. the larger classes of the people.
-From their numbers, those classes are always the
-greatest consumers; and, from the regularity of
-their productive industry, they are also the most
-regular consumers. It seemed probable that the
-demand for Martha Jenkins’s beavers would prove
-superior in the long run to that for Mrs. Dods’s
-varied supply, though poor Martha might suffer
-for a while from the glut of chips which occasioned
-loss to all sellers of bonnets, at present,
-and gain to all sellers of whatever was given in exchange
-for bonnets. Fat for candles was scarcely
-to be had since Temple had discouraged the sale
-of fresh meat. Mrs. Dods was deplorably in
-want of candles. She made a bargain with a
-neighbour for some in return for the hat now
-under her hands. How few she was to receive,
-it vexed her to think; but there was no help for
-it till somebody should supply the deficiency of
-candles, or till new heads should crave covering.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It now appeared that the ladies were not the
-only persons who had brought their work. When
-it came to be decided who should be the reader,
-it was unanimously agreed that some one who had
-no employment for his hands should undertake
-the office. Dods had leathern mittens to make
-for the less hardy of the woodsmen. Others occupied
-themselves in platting straw, making mops,
-cutting pegs to be employed in roofing, and cobbling
-shoes. Arthur drew sketches for Temmy
-to copy. Such was always the pretence for
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.118'>118</span>Arthur’s drawings; but a neighbour who cast a
-peep over his shoulder, from time to time, could
-not help thinking that the sketch was of the present
-party, with Dr. Sneyd in the seat of honour
-by the fire-side, Mrs. Sneyd knitting in the
-shadow, that the full benefit of the candles might
-be yielded to those whose occupation required it;
-Isaac, who had received the honour of the first
-appointment as reader, holding his book rather
-primly, and pitching his voice in a key which
-seemed to cause a tendency to giggle among
-some of the least wise of his auditors; and, lastly,
-the employed listeners, as they sat in various
-postures, and in many lights, as the blaze from
-the logs now flickered low, and now leaped up
-to lighten all the room. Each of these was suspected
-to be destined to find a place in Arthur’s
-sketch.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was a pity Temmy was not here to take a
-drawing lesson, his uncle thought. These evening
-meetings afforded just the opportunity that
-was wanted; for Arthur could seldom find time to
-sit down and make his little nephew as good an
-artist as he believed he might become. It was
-not till quite late, when the party would have
-begun dancing if some one had not given a
-broad hint about the doctor’s telescope, that
-Temmy appeared. Nobody heard his steed approach
-the door, and every body wondered to see
-him. It was thought that Mr. Temple would
-have allowed no one belonging to him to mix
-with those whom he was pleased to call the common
-people of the place. Unguarded, the boy
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.119'>119</span>would indeed have been exposed to no such risk
-of contamination; but Mr. Hesselden had promised
-to be there, and it was believed that, under
-his wing, the boy would take no harm, while Mr.
-Temple’s object, of preserving a connexion with
-whatever passed in his neighbourhood, might be
-fulfilled.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Hesselden was not there; and if it was
-desirable that Temple’s representative should
-make a dignified appearance on this new occasion,
-never was a representative more unfortunately
-chosen. The little fellow crept to his
-grandmamma’s side, shivering and half crying.
-The good lady observed that it was indeed very
-cold, chafed his hands, requested Rundell to throw
-another log or two on the fire, and comforted the
-boy with assurances that he was come in time to
-dance with her. Every body was ready with
-protestations that it was indeed remarkably cold.
-It was thought the beauty of the woods was nearly
-over for this season. In a few days more it was
-probable that the myriads of stems in the forest
-would be wholly bare, and little green but the
-mosses left for the eye to rest upon under the
-woven canopy of boughs. Few evergreens grew
-near, so that the forest was as remarkably gloomy
-in winter as it was bright in the season of leaves.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When the window was opened, that the star-gazers
-might reconnoitre the heavens, it was
-found that the air was thick with snow;—snow
-was falling in a cloud.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do but see!” cried Arthur. “No star-gazing
-to-night, nor dancing either, I fancy, if
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.120'>120</span>we mean to get home before it is knee-deep.
-Temmy, did it snow when you came?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, yes,” answered the boy, his teeth chattering
-at the recollection.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Why did not you tell us, my dear?” asked
-Mrs. Sneyd.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The doctor was inwardly glad that there was so
-good a reason for Mr. Hesselden’s absence.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No wonder we did not hear the horse trot
-up to the door,” observed some one. “Come,
-ladies, put up your work, unless you mean to
-stay here till the next thaw.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A child or two was present who was delighted
-to think of the way to the school-house being
-impassable till the next thaw.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Stay a bit,” cried Rundell, coming in from
-the door, and pulling it after him. "I am not
-going without my brand, and a fine blazing one
-too,—with such noises abroad."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What noises?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Wolves. A strong pack of them, to judge
-by the cry.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>All who possessed sheep were now troubled
-with dire apprehensions: and their fears were not
-allayed when Temmy let fall that wolves were
-howling, as the groom thought, on every side,
-during his ride from the Lodge. The boy had
-never been so alarmed in his life; and he laid a
-firm grasp on uncle Arthur’s coat-collar when
-there was talk of going home again.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You must let me go, Temmy. I must look
-after my lambs without more loss of time. If
-you had not been the strangest boy in the world,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.121'>121</span>you would have given us notice to do so, long
-ago. I cannot conceive what makes you so
-silent about little things that happen.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd could very well account for that
-which puzzled Arthur. She understood little
-minds, and had watched, only too anxiously, the
-process by which continual checking had rendered
-her grand-child afraid to tell that there was snow,
-or that wolves were abroad.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Come, lads,” cried Arthur. “Who cares
-for his sheep? Fetch your arms, and meet me
-at the poplar by the Kiln, and we will sally out
-to the pens, and have a wolf-hunt.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>There was much glee at the prospect of this
-frolic; the more that such an one had not been
-expected to occur yet awhile. So early a commencement
-of winter had not happened within
-the experience of any inhabitant of Briery Creek.
-The swine in the woods had not yet exhausted
-their feast of autumn berries; and fallen apples
-and peaches enough remained to feed them for a
-month. The usual signal of the advance of the
-season,—these animals digging for hickory nuts
-among the rotting leaves,—had not been observed.
-In short, the snow had taken every body by
-surprise, unless it was the wolves.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd lighted and guided home his wife
-and Temmy, in almost as high spirits as the
-youngest of the wolf-hunters. The season of
-sleighing was come, and his precious package of
-glass might soon be attainable. Dire as were
-the disasters which befel the party on their way,—the
-wetting, the loss of the track, the stumbles,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.122'>122</span>the dread of wild beasts, and Temmy’s disappearance
-for ten seconds in a treacherous hollow,—the
-doctor did not find himself able to regret the
-state of the weather. He fixed his thoughts on
-the interests of science, and was consoled for
-every mischance.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>If he had foreseen all that would result from
-this night’s adventure, he would not have
-watched with so much pleasure for the lights
-along the verge of the forest, when the snow had
-ceased; nor have been amused at the tribute of
-wolves’ heads which he found the next morning
-deposited in his porch.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.6' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter VI.</span> <br> <br> A FATHER’S HOPE.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>For several days an unwonted stillness reigned
-in Dr. Sneyd’s abode;—from the day that the
-fever under which Arthur was labouring had
-appeared of a serious character. While it was
-supposed to be merely a severe cold, caught on
-the night of the wolf-hunt, all had gone on as
-much in the common way as could be expected
-under the novelty of a sick person being in the
-house; but from the moment that there was a
-hint of danger, all was studious quiet. The
-surgeon stepped stealthily up stairs, and the
-heavy-footed maids did their best not to shake
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.123'>123</span>the floors they trod. Mrs. Temple conducted
-her consultations with her father in a whisper,
-though the study door was shut; and there was
-thus only too much opportunity for the patient’s
-voice to be heard all over the house, when his
-fever ran high.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy did not like to stay away, though he
-was very unhappy while on the spot. When he
-could not slip in behind the surgeon, he avoided
-the hall by entering the study through the
-garden-window. Then he could sit unobserved
-in the low chair; and, what was better, unemployed.
-He had an earnest desire to be of
-use, but so deep a conviction that he never could
-be useful, that it was a misery to him to be asked
-to do any thing. If requested merely to go an
-errand, or to watch for a messenger, he felt as if
-his uncle’s life depended on what he might see
-and say and do, within a few minutes; and he
-was therefore apt to see wrong, and speak amiss,
-and do the very reverse of what he ought to do.
-All this was only more tolerable than being at
-home;—either alone, in momentary terror of his
-father coming in; or with his father, listening to
-complaints of Mrs. Temple’s absence, or invited
-to an ill-timed facetiousness which he dared not
-decline, however sick at heart he might be.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He had just crouched down in the great chair
-one morning, (supposing that Dr. Sneyd, who was
-bending over a letter at the table, had not seen
-him enter,) when Mrs. Temple appeared from the
-sick chamber. As she found time, in the first
-place, to kiss the forehead of her boy, whom she
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.124'>124</span>had not seen since the preceding afternoon, he
-took courage to ask,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Is uncle Arthur better?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple could not reply otherwise than
-by a melancholy shake of the head. Dr. Sneyd
-turned round.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“No, my dear,” he said. “Your uncle is not
-better. Louisa,” he continued, observing his
-daughter’s haggard and agitated countenance,
-“you must rest. This last night has been too
-much for you.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur had dropped asleep at last, Mrs. Temple
-said; a troubled sleep, which she feared would
-soon be at an end; but she saw the surgeon
-coming up, and wished to receive him below,
-and ask him——A sudden thought seemed to
-strike her.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"My dear, go up to your uncle’s room——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy drew back, and very nearly said “No.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You can leave your shoes at the bottom of
-the stairs. Ask your grandmamma to come down
-to us; and do you sit at the bottom of the bed,
-and watch your uncle’s sleep. If he seems
-likely to wake, call me. If not, sit quiet till I
-come.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy moved slowly away. He had not once
-been in the room since the illness began, and
-nothing could exceed the awe he felt of what he
-might behold. He dared not linger, and therefore
-stole in, and delivered his message in so low
-a whisper that his grandmamma could not hear it
-till she had beckoned him out to the landing.
-She then went down, making a sign to him to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.125'>125</span>take her place. It was now necessary to look
-into the bed; and Temmy sat with his eyes fixed,
-till his head shook involuntarily with his efforts
-to keep a steady gaze on his uncle’s face. That
-face seemed to change its form, hue and motion
-every instant, and sometimes Temmy fancied that
-the patient was suffocating, and then that he had
-ceased to breathe, according to the state that his
-own senses were in. Sometimes the relaxed and
-shrunken hand seemed to make an effort to grasp
-the bed clothes, and then Temmy’s was instantly
-outstretched, with a start, to the hand-bell with
-which he was to summon help. How altered
-was the face before him! So hollow, and wearing
-such an expression of misery! There was just
-sufficient likeness to uncle Arthur to enable
-Temmy to believe that it was he; and quite
-enough difference to suggest his being possessed;
-or, in some sort, not quite uncle Arthur. He
-wished somebody would come. How was he to
-know how soon he should ring the bell?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This was soon decided. Without a moment’s
-warning, Arthur opened his eyes wide, and sat
-up in the bed, looking at Temmy, till the boy
-nearly screamed, and never thought of ringing
-the bell. When he saw, however, that Arthur
-was attempting to get out of bed, he rang hastily,
-and then ran to him, saying,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"O, uncle, do lie down again, that I may tell
-you about the lamb that got so torn, you know.
-I have a great deal to tell you about that lamb,
-and the old ewe too. And Isaac says——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.126'>126</span>“Ay, the lamb, the lamb,” feebly said Arthur,
-sinking back upon his pillow.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When Dr. Sneyd presently appeared, he found
-Arthur listening dully, painfully, with his glazed
-eyes fixed on the boy, who was telling, in a hurried
-manner of forced cheerfulness, a long story
-about the lamb that was getting well. He broke
-off when help appeared.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O grandpapa, he woke in such a hurry! He
-tried to get out of bed, grandpapa.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes, my dear, I understand. You did just
-the right thing, Temmy; and now you may go
-down. None of us could have done better, my
-dear boy.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Any one who had met Temmy crying on the
-stairs would have rather supposed that he had
-done just the wrong thing. Yet Temmy was a
-different boy from that hour. He even thought
-that he should not much mind being in uncle
-Arthur’s room again, if any body should wish to
-send him there. It was yet some time before the
-event of this illness was considered as decided,
-and as the days passed on, there became less and
-less occasion for inquiry in words, each morning.
-Whenever Dr. Sneyd’s countenance was
-remarkably placid, and his manner particularly
-quiet, Temmy knew that his uncle was worse. It
-was rarely, and during very brief intervals, that
-he was considered better. Strange things happened
-now and then which made the boy question
-whether the world was just now going on in its
-usual course. It was not very strange to hear
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.127'>127</span>his papa question Mrs. Temple, during the short
-periods of her being at home, about Arthur’s
-will; whether he had one; how it was supposed
-his property would be left; and whether he was
-ever sensible enough to make any alterations that
-might be desirable under the late growth of his
-little property. It was not strange that Mr.
-Temple should ask these questions, nor that they
-should be answered briefly and with tears: but it
-was strange that papa went one day himself into
-the grapery, and cut with his own hands the very
-finest grapes for Arthur, and permitted Temmy
-to carry them, though they filled a rather large
-basket. It seemed strange that Mr. Kendall,
-apt as he was, when every body was well, to joke
-in season and out of season with guests and
-neighbours, should now be grave from morning
-till night, and often through the night, watching,
-considering, inventing, assisting, till Mrs. Sneyd
-said that, if Arthur recovered, he would owe his
-life, under God, to the care of his medical friend.
-It was strange to see a physician arrive from a
-great distance, twice in one week, and go away
-again as soon as his horse was refreshed: though
-nothing could be more natural than the anxiety
-of the villagers who stood at their doors, ready to
-accost the physician as he went away, and to try
-to learn how much hope he really thought there
-was of Arthur’s recovery. It was very strange
-to meet Dr. Sneyd, one morning, with Arthur’s
-axe on his shoulder, going out to do some work
-in the woods that Arthur had been talking about
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.128'>128</span>all night, and wanted grievously to be doing himself,
-till Dr. Sneyd had promised that he, and
-nobody else, should accomplish it for him. It was
-strange that Mr. Hesselden should choose that
-time, of all others, to turn back with Dr. Sneyd,
-and ask why he had not been sent for to the
-patient’s bed-side, urging that it was dreadful to
-think what might become of him hereafter, if it
-should please God to remove him in his present
-feeble condition of mind. Of all strange things
-it seemed the strangest that any one should dare
-to add to such trouble as the greyhaired father
-must be suffering, and that Mr. Hesselden should
-fancy himself better qualified than Dr. Sneyd to
-watch over the religious state of this virtuous
-son of a pious parent. Even Temmy could understand
-enough to be disgusted, and to venerate
-the humble dignity with which Mr. Hesselden’s
-officiousness was checked, and the calmness with
-which it was at once admitted that Arthur’s period
-of probation seemed to be fast drawing to a
-close. But nothing astonished the boy so much
-as some circumstances relating to his mother.
-Temmy never knew before that she was fond of
-uncle Arthur,—or of any one, unless it was himself.
-When his papa was not by, her manner
-was usually high and cold to every body; and it
-had become more strikingly so since he had
-observed her dress to be shabby. He was now
-awe-struck when he saw her sit sobbing behind
-the curtain, with both hands covering her face.
-But it was much worse to see her one day, after
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.129'>129</span>standing for a long while gazing on the sunken
-countenance before her, cast herself down by the
-bedside and cry,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"O, Arthur—Arthur—you will not look at
-me!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy could not stay to see what happened.
-He took refuge with his grandpapa, who, on
-hearing what had overpowered him, led him up
-again to the chamber, where Louisa was on her
-knees, weeping quietly with her face hid in the
-bed clothes. She was not now in so much need
-of comfort. Arthur had turned his eyes upon
-her, and, she thought, attempted to speak. She
-believed she could now watch by him till the last
-without repining; but it had been dreary,—most
-dreary, to see him wasting without one sign of
-love or consciousness.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What must it be then, my dear daughter, to
-watch for months and years in vain for such a
-sign?” The doctor held in his hand a letter
-which Temmy had for some days observed that
-his grandfather seemed unable to part with. It
-told that the most beloved of his old friends had
-had an attack of paralysis. It was little probable
-that he would write or send message more.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That it should happen just at this time!”
-murmured Louisa.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I grieve for you, my dear. You have many
-years before you, and the loss of this brother——But
-for your mother and me it is not altogether
-so trying. We cannot have very long to remain;
-and the more it pleases God to wean us from this
-world, the less anxiety there will be in leaving it.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.130'>130</span>If the old friends we loved, and the young we
-depended on, go first, the next world is made all
-the brighter; and it is with that world that we
-have now most to do."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"But of all losses—that Arthur must be the
-one——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"This is the one we could be least prepared
-for, and from this there is, perhaps, the strongest
-recoil,—especially when we think of this boy,"—laying
-his hand on Temmy’s head. “But it is
-enough that it is the fittest for us. If we cannot
-see this, we cannot but believe it; and let the
-Lord do what seemeth to him good.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"But such a son! Such a man——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Ah! there is precious consolation! No father’s—no
-mother’s heart—Hear me, Arthur"——and
-he laid his hand on that of his son—“No
-parent’s heart had ever more perfect repose
-upon a child than we have had upon you, my
-dear son!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“He hears you.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"If not now, I trust he shall know it hereafter.
-His mother and I have never been thankless, I
-believe, for what God has given us in our children;
-but now is the time to feel truly what His
-bounty has been. Some time hence, we may find
-ourselves growing weary under our loss, however
-we may acquiesce: but now there is the support
-given through him who is the resurrection and
-the life,—this support without drawback, without
-fear. Thank God!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>After a pause, Mrs. Temple said, hesitatingly,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You have seen Mr. Hesselden?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.131'>131</span>"I have. He believes that there is presumption
-in the strength of my hope. But it seems
-to me that there would be great presumption in
-doubt and dread. If my son were a man of a
-worldly mind,—if his affections were given to
-wealth and fame, or to lower objects still, it would
-become us to kneel and cry, day and night, for
-more time, before he must enter the state where,
-with such a spirit, he must find himself poor and
-miserable and blind and naked. But his Maker
-has so guided him that his affections have been
-fixed on objects which will not be left behind in
-this world, or buried away with the body, leaving
-him desolate in the presence of his God. He
-loves knowledge, and for long past he has lived
-on benevolence; and he will do the same henceforth
-and for ever, if the gospel, in which he has
-delighted from his youth up, say true. Far be it
-from us to doubt his being happy in thus living
-for the prime ends of his being!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple was still silent.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You are thinking of the other side of his
-character,” observed Dr. Sneyd; “of that dark
-side which every fallible creature has. Here
-would be my fear, if I feared at all. But I do
-not fear for Arthur that species of suffering which
-he has ever courted here. I believe he was
-always sooner or later thankful for the disappointment
-of unreasonable desires, and the mortifications
-of pride, and all retribution for sins and
-follies. There is no reason to suppose that he
-will shrink from the retribution which will in like
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.132'>132</span>manner follow such sins and follies as he may
-carry with him into another state. All desires
-whose gratification cannot enter there will be
-starved out. The process will be painful; but
-the subject of this pain will be the first to acquiesce
-in it. We, therefore, will not murmur nor
-fear.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If all this be true, if it be religious, how
-many torment themselves and one another in
-vain about the terrors of the gospel!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Very many. For my part, whatever terrors
-I might feel without the gospel,—and I can imagine
-that they might be many and great,—I
-cannot conceive of any being left when the gospel
-is taken home to the understanding and the heart.
-It so strips away all the delusions, amidst which
-alone terror can arise under the recognition of a
-benignant Providence, as to leave a broad unincumbered
-basis for faith to rest upon; a faith
-which must pass from strength to strength, divesting
-itself of one weakness and pain after
-another, till the end comes when perfect love
-casts out fear;—a consummation which can never
-be reached by more than a few, while arbitrary
-sufferings are connected with the word of God in
-the unauthorized way which is too common at
-present. No! if there be one characteristic of
-the gospel rather than another, it is its repudiating
-terrors—(and terrors belong only to ignorance)—by
-casting a new and searching light
-on the operations of Providence, and showing
-how happiness is the issue of them all. Surely,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.133'>133</span>daughter, there is no presumption in saying this,
-to the glory of Him who gave the gospel."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I trust not, father.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"My dear, with as much confidence as an
-apostle, were he here, would desire your brother
-to arise and walk before us all, do I say to him,
-if he can yet hear me, ‘Fear not, for God is
-with thee.’ I wish I feared as little for you,
-Louisa; but indeed this heavy grief is bearing you
-down. God comfort you, my child! for we perceive
-that we cannot."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>With a passion of grief, Louisa prayed that
-she might not be left the only child of her parents.
-She had never been, she never should be, to them
-what she ought. Arthur must not go. Her
-father led her away, soothing her self-reproaches,
-and giving her hope, by showing how much of
-his hope for this world depended on her. She
-made a speedy effort to compose herself, as she
-could not bear to be long absent from Arthur’s
-bedside. Her mother was now there, acting
-with all the silent self-possession which she had
-preserved throughout.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The snow was all melted before the morning
-when the funeral train set forth from Dr. Sneyd’s
-door. On leaving the gate, the party turned,—not
-in the direction of the chapel, but towards the
-forest. As Mr. Hesselden could not in conscience
-countenance such a departure as that of
-Arthur,—lost in unbelief, and unrelieved of his
-sins as he believed the sufferer to have been,—it
-was thought better that the interment should take
-place as if no Mr. Hesselden had been there.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.134'>134</span>and no chapel built; and the whole was conducted
-as on one former occasion since the
-establishment of the settlement. The plain
-coffin was carried by four of the villagers, and
-followed by all the rest, except a very few who
-remained about the Lodge. Mrs. Sneyd would
-not hear of her husband’s going through the
-service unsupported by any of his family. Mrs.
-Temple’s presence was out of the question. Mrs.
-Sneyd and Temmy therefore walked with Dr.
-Sneyd. When arrived at the open green space
-appointed, the family sat down beside the coffin,
-while the men who had brought spades dug a
-grave, and those who had borne axes felled trees
-with which to secure the body from the beasts of
-the forest. There was something soothing rather
-than the contrary in observing how all went on
-as if the spectators had been gazing with their
-usual ease upon the operations of nature. The
-squirrels ran among the leaves which gaudily
-carpeted the ground in the shade: the cattle
-browzed carelessly, tinkling their bells among the
-trees. A lark sprang up from the ground-nest
-where she was sitting solitary when the grave-diggers
-stirred the long grass in which she had
-been hidden; and a deer, which had taken alarm
-at the shock of the woodsmen’s axes, made a timid
-survey of the party, and bounded away into the
-dark parts of the wood. The children, who were
-brought for the purpose of showing respect to the
-departed, could scarcely be kept in order by their
-anxious parents, during the time of preparation.
-They would pick up glossy brown nuts that lay
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.135'>135</span>at their feet; and trudged rustling through all
-the leaves they could manage to tread upon, in
-hopes of dislodging mice or other small animals
-to which they might give chase. One little girl,
-with all a little girl’s love for bright colours,
-secured a handful of the scarlet leaves of the
-maple, the deep yellow of the walnut and hickory,
-and the pink of the wild vine; and, using the
-coffin for a table, began laying out her treasure
-there in a circle. Dr. Sneyd was watching her
-with a placid smile, when the mother, in an agony
-of confusion, ran to put a stop to the amusement.
-The doctor would not let the child be interfered
-with. He seemed to have pleasure in entering
-into the feelings of as many about him as could
-not enter into his.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He was quite prepared for his office at the
-moment when all was ready for him. None who
-were present had ever beheld or listened to a
-funeral service so impressive as this of the greyheaded
-father over the grave of his son. The
-few, the very few natural tears shed at the moment
-of final surrender did not impair the dignity of
-the service, nor, most assuredly, the acceptableness
-of the devotion from which, as much as from
-human grief, they sprang. The doctor would
-himself see the grave filled up, and the felled
-trees so arranged upon it as to render it perfectly
-safe. Then he was ready to be the support of his
-wife home; and at his own gate, he forgot none
-who had paid this last mark of respect to his son.
-He shook hands with them every one, and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.136'>136</span>touched his hat to them when he withdrew
-within the gate.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd wistfully followed him into his
-study, instead of going to seek her daughter.—Was
-he going to write?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Yes, my dear. There is one in England to
-whom these tidings are first due from ourselves.
-I shall write but little; for hers will be an
-affliction with which we must not intermeddle.
-At least, it is natural for Arthur’s father to think
-so. Will you stay beside me? Or are you going
-to Louisa?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"I ought to write to Mrs. Rogers; and I
-think I will do it now, beside you. And yet——Louisa——Tell
-me, dear, which I shall do."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>There was something in the listlessness and
-indecision of tone with which this was said that
-more nearly overset Dr. Sneyd’s fortitude than
-any thing that had happened this day. Conquering
-his emotion, he said,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Let us both take a turn in the garden first,
-and then——"—and he drew his wife’s arm
-within his own, and led her out. Temmy was
-there,—lingering, solitary and disconsolate in
-one of the walks. The servants had told him
-that he must not go up to his mamma; they
-believed she was asleep; and then Temmy did
-not know where to go, and was not at all sure
-how much he might do on the day of a funeral.
-In exerting themselves to cheer him, the doctor
-and Mrs. Sneyd revived each other; and when Mrs.
-Temple arose, head-achy and feverish, and went
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.137'>137</span>to the window for air, she was surprised to see
-her father with his spade in his hand, looking on
-while Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy sought out the
-last remains of the autumn fruit in the orchard.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When the long evening had set in, and the
-most necessary of the letters were written, little
-seemed left to be done but to take care of Mrs.
-Temple, whose grief had, for the present, much
-impaired her health. She lay shivering on a
-couch drawn very near the fire; and her mother
-began to feel so uneasy at the continuance of her
-head-ache that she was really glad when Mr.
-Kendall came up from the village to enquire after
-the family. It was like his usual kind attention;
-and perhaps he said no more than the occasion
-might justify of distress of mind being the cause
-of indisposition. Yet his manner struck Mrs.
-Sneyd as being peculiarly solemn,—somewhat
-inquisitive, and, on the whole, unsatisfactory.
-Mrs. Temple also asked herself for a moment
-whether Kendall could possibly know that she
-was not a happy wife, and would dare to exhibit
-his knowledge to her. But she was not strong
-enough to support the dignified manner necessary
-on such a supposition; and she preferred dismissing
-the thought. She was recommended to rest
-as much as possible; to turn her mind from
-painful subjects; and, above all, to remain where
-she was. She must not think of going home at
-present;—a declaration for which every body
-present was heartily thankful.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When Temmy had attended the surgeon to
-the door, he returned; and instead of seating
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.138'>138</span>himself at his drawing, as before, wandered from
-window to window, listening, and seeming very
-uncomfortable. Dr. Sneyd invited him to the
-fire-side, and made room for him between his
-knees; but Temmy could not be happy even
-there,—the night was so stormy, and it was
-raining so very heavily!</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Well, my dear?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And uncle Arthur is out in the wood, all
-alone, and every body else so comfortable at
-home!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My boy, your uncle can never more be hurt
-by storm or heat, by night dew or rain. We
-will not forget him while we are comfortable, as
-you say, by our fire-side: but it is we ourselves,
-the living, who have to be sheltered and tended
-with care and pains, like so many infants, while
-perhaps the departed make sport of these things,
-and look back upon the needful care of the body
-as grown men look down upon the cradles they
-were rocked in, and the cushions spread for them
-to fall upon when they learned to walk. Uncle
-Arthur may know more about storms than we;
-but we know that they will never more beat upon
-his head.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temmy believed this; yet he could not help
-thinking of the soaked grass, and the dripping
-boughs, and the groaning of the forest in the
-wind,—and even of the panther and the wild cat
-snuffing round the grave they could not reach.
-He could not help feeling as if his uncle was
-deserted; and he had moreover the fear that,
-though he could never, never think less of him
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.139'>139</span>than now, others would fall more and more into
-their old way of talking and laughing in the light
-of the fire, without casting a thought towards the
-forest or any thing that it contained. He felt
-as if he was, in such a case, called upon to
-vindicate uncle Arthur’s claims to solemn remembrance,
-and pondered the feasibility of
-staying at home alone to think about uncle
-Arthur when the time should be again come for
-every body else to be reading and working, or
-dancing, during the evenings at the schoolhouse.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd believed all that her husband had
-just said to Temmy; and the scripture which he
-read this evening to his family, about the heavenly
-transcending the earthly, did not pass idly over
-her ear; yet she so far felt with Temmy that she
-looked out, forest-wards, for long before she
-tried to rest; and, with the first grey of the
-morning, was again at the same station. On the
-first occasion, she was somewhat surprised by
-two things that she saw;—many lights flitting
-about the village, and on the road to the Lodge,—and
-a faint glimmer, like the spark of a glow-worm,
-in the opposite direction, as if precisely
-on the solitary spot where Arthur lay. Dr.
-Sneyd could not distinguish it through the storm;
-but on being assured that there was certainly
-some light, supposed that it might be one of the
-meteoric fires which were wont to dart out of the
-damp brakes, and run along the close alleys of
-the forest, like swift torch-bearers of the night.
-For the restlessness in the village he could not
-so easily account; nor did he take much pains to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.140'>140</span>do so; for he was wearied out,—and the sleep
-of the innocent, the repose of the pious, awaited
-him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"From this he was unwillingly awakened, at
-peep of dawn, by Mrs. Sneyd, who was certain
-that she had distinguished the figure of a man,
-closely muffled, pacing the garden. She had
-previously fancied she heard a horse-tread in the
-turf road.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My dear,” said the doctor, “who should it
-be? We have no thieves here, you know; and
-what should anybody else want in our garden at
-this hour?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Why—you will not believe me, I dare say,—but
-I have a strong impression,—I cannot help
-thinking it is Temple."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was at the window without another
-word. It was still so dark that he could not distinguish
-the intruder till he passed directly before
-the window. At that moment the doctor threw
-up the sash. The wind blew in chilly, bringing
-the autumnal scent of decaying vegetation from
-the woods; but the rain was over. The driving
-clouds let out a faint glimmer from the east; but
-all besides was darkness, except a little yellow
-light which was still wandering on the prairie,
-and which now appeared not far distant from the
-paling of the orchard.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Mr. Temple, is it you?” asked Dr. Sneyd.
-“What brings you here?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The gentleman appeared excessively nervous.
-He could only relate that he wanted to see his
-wife,—that he must see Mrs. Temple instantly.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.141'>141</span>She must come down to him,—down to the window,
-at least. He positively could not enter the
-house. He had not a moment to spare. He was
-on business of life and death. He must insist on
-Mrs. Temple being called.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>She was so, as the intelligence of her being ill
-seemed to effect no change in the gentleman’s determination.
-He appeared to think that she would
-have ample time to get well afterwards. When
-her mother had seen that she was duly wrapped
-up, and her father had himself opened the shutter
-of the study window, to avoid awakening the
-servants’ curiosity, both withdrew to their own
-apartment, without asking further questions of
-Temple.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Did you see anybody else, my dear?” the
-doctor inquired. Mrs. Sneyd was surprised at
-the question.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Because—I did. Did you see no torch or
-lantern behind the palings? I am sure there was
-a dark face peeping through to see what we were
-doing."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A pang of horror shot through Mrs. Sneyd
-when she asked her husband whether he supposed
-it was an Indian. O, no; only a half-savage.
-He believed it to be one of the Brawnees. If
-so, Mrs. Sneyd could account for the light in the
-forest, as well as for the maiden being so far from
-home at this hour. She had marked her extreme
-grief at the interment the day before, and other
-things previously, which gave her the idea that
-Arthur’s grave had been lighted and guarded by
-one who would have been only too happy to have
-watched over him while he lived.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.142'>142</span>It was even so, as Mrs. Sneyd afterwards ascertained.
-The maiden hung lanterns round the
-space occupied by the grave, every night, till all
-danger was over of Arthur’s remains being interfered
-with. The family could not refuse to be
-gratified with this mark of devotion;—except
-Temple, who would have been glad if the shadows
-of the night had availed to shroud his proceedings
-from curious eyes.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When the gate was heard to swing on its
-hinges, and the tread of a horse was again distinguishable
-on the soaked ground, Mrs. Sneyd
-thought she might look out upon the stairs, and
-watch her daughter to her chamber. But Mrs.
-Temple was already there. Not wishing to be
-asked any questions, she had gone up softly, and
-as softly closed her door; so that her parents,
-not choosing to disturb her, must wait till the
-morning for the satisfaction of their uneasy curiosity.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-<h3 id='ch1.7' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter VII.</span><br> <br> THE END OF THE MATTER.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>The truth was not long in becoming known when
-the daylight called the villagers abroad. Temple
-was gone. He had fled from his creditors, and
-to escape the vengeance of the land-office for his
-embezzlement of funds which had come into his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.143'>143</span>hands in the transaction of its business. His
-creditors might make what they could of that which
-he left behind; but his mansion, shrubberies, conservatories,
-and ornamental furniture could by
-no method be made to compensate for the property
-which had flown to the moon, or somewhere
-else where it was as little accessible. The estate,
-disposed of to the greatest possible advantage,
-could not be made worth more than what was
-spent upon it in its present form; and the enormous
-waste which had been perpetrated in wanton
-caprices could never be repaired.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Temple had spent more than his income, from
-the time he set foot in America, if not before.
-He was only careless at first, forgetting to provide
-for contingencies, and being regularly astonished,
-as often as he looked into his affairs, at
-discovering how much his expenses had exceeded
-his expectations. He next found it easier to
-avoid looking too closely into his affairs than to
-control his passion for ostentation: and from
-that moment, he trod the downward path of the
-spendthrift; raising money by any means that he
-could devise, and trusting that fate or something
-would help him before all was spent. Fate did
-not come in as a helper till he could turn nothing
-more of his own into dollars without the humiliation
-of appearing to retrench; and to submit to
-this was quite out of the question. So he compelled
-his lady to darn and dye, and make her
-old wardrobe serve; restricted her allowance for
-housekeeping in all the departments that he had
-nothing to do with; and betook himself to embezzlement.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.144'>144</span>This served his purpose for a short
-time; but, on the day of Arthur’s funeral, a
-stranger was observed to have arrived in the
-place, without an introduction to Mr. Temple.
-Temple’s unpaid labourers had lately taken the
-liberty of asking for their money, and, actuated
-by some unknown impulse, had this evening
-come up with torches through the rain, to call the
-gentleman to account, and show him that they
-would not be trifled with any longer. It was
-time to be off; and Temple waited only till the
-village was quiet, before he stole to the stables,
-saddled his horse with his own hands, just called
-to tell his wife that he could not at present say
-whether he should send for her, or whether she
-might never see or hear from him more, and
-turned his back on Briery Creek for ever.
-Whether his wife would choose to go to him was
-a question which did not seem to occur to his
-mind.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A passing traveller, looking down upon Briery
-Creek from the neighbouring ridge, might perhaps
-ask the name of the social benefactor who
-had ornamented the district with yon splendid
-mansion, presented the village with a place of
-worship, and the shell, at least, of a parsonage;
-had reclaimed those green lawns from the wild
-prairie, and cleared the woodland in the rear so
-as to leave, conspicuous in beauty, clumps of the
-noblest forest trees. Such a stranger ought not
-to use the term “benefactor” till he knew whence
-came the means by which all this work was
-wrought. If from a revenue which could supply
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.145'>145</span>these graces after all needful purposes had been
-fulfilled, well and good. Such an expenditure
-would then have been truly beneficent. It is a
-benignant act to embellish God’s earth for the
-use and delight of man. But if there is not revenue
-enough for such objects,—if they are attained
-by the sacrifice of those funds on whose
-reproduction society depends for subsistence, the
-act, from being beneficent, becomes criminal.
-The mansion is built out of the maintenance of
-the labourer; and that which should have been
-bread to the next generation is turned into barren
-stone. Temple was a criminal before he committed
-fraud. He injured society by exhausting
-its material resources, and leaving no adequate
-substitute for them. If he had lavished his capital,
-as Dr. Sneyd laid out his revenue, in the pursuit
-of science, it is very possible that, though
-such an expenditure might require justification in
-comparison with Dr. Sneyd’s, the good he would
-effect might have so superabounded above the
-harm as to have made society his debtor,—(as in
-many a case where philosophers have expended
-all their substance in perfecting a discovery or
-invention,)—but Temple had done nothing like
-this. The beauty of his estate, however desirable
-in itself, was no equivalent for the cost of happiness
-through which it was produced. He had
-no claim to a share of the almost unlimited credit
-allowed, by the common consent of society, to
-its highest class of benefactors,—the explorers
-of Providence.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Arthur had done little less than Temple in the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.146'>146</span>way of adorning Briery Creek; and how differently!
-His smiling fields, his flocks spreading
-over the prairie, his own house, and the dwellings
-of his labourers, increasing in number and improving
-in comfort every year, were as beautiful
-in the eye of a right-minded observer as the
-grander abode of his brother-in-law. There were
-indications also of new graces which were to arise
-in their proper time. The clearings were made
-with a view to the future beauty of the little estate;
-creepers were already spreading over the white
-front of the house, and no little pains had been
-bestowed upon the garden. Yet, so far from any
-suffering by Arthur’s expenditure, every body
-had been benefited. A larger fund had remained
-at the close of each year for the employment of
-labour during the next; and if new labourers
-were induced to come from a distance and settle
-here, it was not that they might be kept busy
-and overpaid for a time, and afterwards be left
-unemployed and defrauded of part of their dues,
-but that they and their children after them might
-prosper with the prosperity of their employer.
-Temple had absconded, leaving a name which
-would be mentioned with either contempt or abhorrence
-as long as it would be mentioned at all.
-Arthur had departed, surrounded with the blessings
-of those who regarded him as a benefactor.
-He had left a legacy of substantial wealth to the
-society in which he had lived, and a name which
-would be perpetuated with honour.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was hoped that the effects of Arthur’s good
-deeds would long outlast those of Temple’s evil
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.147'>147</span>ones. In all communities that can boast of any
-considerable degree of civilization, there are many
-accumulators to one spendthrift. The principle
-of accumulation is so strong, that it has been perpetually
-found an overmatch for the extravagance
-of ostentatious governments, and for the wholesale
-waste of war. The capital of every tolerably
-governed state has been found to be gradually
-on the increase, however much misery might,
-through mismanagement, be inflicted on certain
-portions of the people. It was to be hoped that
-such would be the process in Briery Creek; that
-the little capitals which had been saved by the
-humbler residents would be more freely employed
-in putting labour into action, than while the great
-man had been there to buy up all that was to be
-had. It might be hoped that the losses of the
-defrauded labourers might thus be in time repaired,
-and new acquisitions made. Again:—there
-was now no one to interfere with the exchanges
-in the markets, and thus perplex the
-calculations of producers, causing deficiencies of
-some articles and gluts of others;—inequalities
-which no foresight could guard against. Every
-one might now have as much fresh meat, and as
-little salt, as he chose; and the general taste
-would regulate the supply in the market, to the
-security of those who sold and the satisfaction of
-those who bought. It would be well for certain
-nations if those who attempt interference with
-commerce on a larger scale could be as easily
-scared away as Temple; their dictation (in the
-form of bounties and prohibitions) expiring as
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.148'>148</span>they withdrew. Greater, in proportion to their
-greater influence in society, would be the rejoicing
-at their departure, than that with which Temple’s
-disappearance was hailed, when the first dismay
-of his poorer creditors was overcome.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The ease which was thus occasioned was not
-confined to those who had merely a business
-connexion with him. No one liked to tell his
-notions upon so delicate a matter; but a significant
-smile went round, some months after, when
-it was remarked how uncommonly well Mrs.
-Temple was looking, and how gracious she had
-become, and what a different kind of boy Temmy
-now promised to be from any thing that was expected
-of him formerly. The air of the farm was
-pronounced to be a fine thing for them both.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Yes; the farm,—Arthur’s farm. The estate
-was of course left to his family; and it was the
-most obvious thing in the world that Mrs. Temple
-should establish herself in it, and superintend its
-management, with Isaac and his wife to assist
-her, till Temmy should be old and wise enough
-to take it into his own charge. The lady herself
-proposed this plan; and it was a fortunate thing
-that she had always been fond of a dairy and
-poultry yard, and of a country life altogether.
-The pride which had chilled all who came near
-her during “the winter of her discontent,” gradually
-thawed under the genial influence of freedom
-and ease. Her parents once more recognized
-in her the Louisa Sneyd who had been so
-long lost to them, and every body but the Hesseldens
-thought her so improved that she could
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.149'>149</span>not have been known for the same person;—even
-as to beauty,—so much brighter did she look
-carrying up a present of eggs and cream-cheese
-to her mother, in the early morning, than sauntering
-through the heat from her carriage, entrenched
-behind her parasol, with the liveried
-servant at her heels, burdened with her pocket-handkerchief
-and a pine-apple for the doctor’s
-eating.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>She was never afraid of being too early at her
-father’s. Dr. Sneyd was as fond of country occupations
-as she; and when he had not been in
-his observatory for half the night, might be found
-at sunrise digging or planting in his garden.
-His grievous loss had not destroyed his energies;
-it had rather stimulated them, by attaching him
-for the short remainder of his days to the place
-of his present abode. He had gradually relaxed
-in his desire to see England again, and had now
-relinquished the idea entirely,—not through indolence,
-or because the circle of his old friends at
-home was no longer complete, but because,—free
-from superstition as he was,—his son being
-buried there attached him to the place. Here he,
-and his wife, and their daughter, and grandchild,
-could speak of Arthur more frequently, more
-easily, more happily, than they could ever learn
-to do elsewhere. They could carry forward his
-designs, work in his stead, and feel, act, and talk
-as if he were still one of them. Not only did
-they thus happily regard him in the broad sunshine,
-when amidst the lively hum of voices from
-the village they were apt to fancy that they could
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.150'>150</span>distinguish his; but, in the dead of night, when
-the doctor was alone in his observatory, or sometimes
-assisted by Mrs. Sneyd, (who had taken
-pains to qualify herself thus late to aid her
-husband,) bright thoughts of the departed would
-accompany the planets in their courses, and
-hopes were in attendance which did not vanish
-with the morning light, or grow dark in the evening
-shade. The large telescope was not, for some
-time, of the use that was expected, for want of
-such an assistant as Arthur. A sigh would occasionally
-escape from Dr. Sneyd when he felt how
-Arthur would have enjoyed a newly-made discovery,—how
-he might have suggested the
-means of removing a difficulty. Then a smile
-would succeed at the bare imagination of how
-much greater things might be revealed in Arthur’s
-new sphere of habitation; and at the conviction
-that the progress of God’s truth can never be
-hurtfully delayed, whether its individual agents
-are left to work here, or removed to a different
-destination elsewhere.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Hopes, different in kind, but precious in their
-way, rested now on Temmy,—soon to be called
-by the less undignified name of Temple. The
-boy had brightened, in intellect and in spirits,
-from the hour that he began to surmount his
-agitation at the idea of being some day sole master
-of the farm. There was something tangible
-in farm-learning, which he felt he could master
-when there was no one to rebuke and ridicule
-almost every thing he attempted; and in this
-department he had a model before him on which
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.151'>151</span>his attention was for ever fixed. Uncle Arthur
-was the plea for every new thing he proposed to
-attempt; and, by dint of incessant recourse to it,
-he attempted many things which he would not
-otherwise have dreamed of. Among other visions
-for the future, he saw himself holding the pen in
-the observatory, <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He was some time in learning to attend to two
-things at once; and all his merits and demerits
-might safely be discussed within a yard of his ear,
-while he was buried in mathematics or wielding
-his pencil; which he always contrived to do at
-odd moments.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What is he about now?” was the question
-that passed between the trio who were observing
-him, one evening, when he had been silent some
-time, and appeared to be lightly sketching on a
-scrap of paper which lay before him.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Ephraim’s cabin, I dare say,” observed his
-mother. “We are to have a frolic in a few days,
-to raise a cabin for Ephraim, who has worked
-wonderfully hard in the prospect of having a
-dwelling of his own. It is Temple’s affair altogether;
-and I know his head has been full of it
-for days past. He wishes that Ephraim’s cabin
-should be second to none on the estate.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Let us see what he will make of it,” said the
-doctor, putting on his spectacles, and stepping
-softly behind Temple. He looked on, over the
-youth’s shoulder, for a few minutes, with a quiet
-smile, and then beckoned his wife.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This second movement Temple observed. He
-looked up hastily.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.152'>152</span>“Very like my dear boy! It is very like.
-It is something worth living for, Temple, to be
-so <a id='corr152.3'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='remembered.'>remembered.”</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_152.3'><ins class='correction'>remembered.”</ins></a></span></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"So remembered as this, Sir! It is so easy
-to copy the face, the——”"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The outward man? It is a great pleasure
-to us that you find it so; but it gives us infinitely
-more to see that you can copy after a better
-manner still. We can see a likeness there too,
-Temple.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.153'>153</span>Having illustrated the leading principles which
-regulate the <span class='sc'>Production</span>, <span class='sc'>Distribution</span>, and
-<span class='sc'>Exchange</span> of Wealth, we proceed to consider the
-laws of its <span class='sc'>Consumption</span>.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Of these four operations, the three first are
-means to the attainment of the last as an end.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Consumption by individuals is the subject before
-us. Government consumption will be treated
-of hereafter.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><i>Summary of Principles illustrated in
-this volume.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Consumption is of two kinds, productive and
-unproductive.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The object of the one is the restoration, with
-increase, in some new form, of that which is
-consumed. The object of the other is the enjoyment
-of some good through the sacrifice of that
-which is consumed.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>That which is consumed productively is capital,
-reappearing for future use. That which is consumed
-unproductively ceases to be capital, or any
-thing else. It is wholly lost.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Such loss is desirable or the contrary in proportion
-as the happiness resulting from the sacrifice
-exceeds or falls short of the happiness belonging
-to the continued possession of the consumable
-commodity.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.154'>154</span>The total of what is produced is called the
-gross produce.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>That which remains, after replacing the capital
-consumed, is called the net produce.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>While a man produces only that which he
-himself consumes, there is no demand and supply.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>If a man produces more of one thing than he
-consumes, it is for the sake of obtaining something
-which another man produces, over and
-above what he consumes.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Each brings the two requisites of a demand;
-viz., the wish for a supply, and a commodity
-wherewith to obtain it.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This commodity, which is the instrument of
-demand, is, at the same time, the instrument of
-supply.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Though the respective commodities of no two
-producers may be exactly suitable to their respective
-wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, as every
-man’s instrument of demand and supply is identical,
-the aggregate demand of society must be
-precisely equal to its supply.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>In other words, a general glut is impossible.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A partial glut is an evil which induces its own
-remedy; and the more quickly, the greater the
-evil; since, the aggregate demand and supply
-being always equal, a superabundance of one
-commodity testifies to the deficiency of another;
-and, all exchangers being anxious to exchange
-the deficient article for that which is superabundant,
-the production of the former will be quickened,
-and that of the latter slackened.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A new creation of capital, employed in the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.155'>155</span>production of the deficient commodity, may thus
-remedy a glut.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A new creation of capital is always a benefit
-to society, by constituting a new demand.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It follows that an unproductive consumption
-of capital is an injury to society, by contracting
-the demand. In other words, an expenditure
-which avoidably exceeds the revenue is a social
-crime.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>All interference which perplexes the calculations
-of producers, and thus causes the danger of
-a glut, is also a social crime.</p>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
- <div class='nf-center'>
- <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.156'>156</span>LONDON:</div>
- <div>PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES,</div>
- <div>Stamford Street.</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c000'>
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.01'>01</span>
- <h2 id='v2' class='c005'>THE THREE AGES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class='c014'>
-<h3 id='ch2.1' class='c012'>FIRST AGE.</h3>
-
-<p class='c013'>One fine summer day, about three hundred and
-ten years ago, all Whitehall was astir with the
-throngs who were hastening to see my Lord
-Cardinal set forth from the episcopal palace for
-the Parliament House. The attendants of the
-great man had been collected for some time,—the
-bearers of the silver crosses, of the glittering
-pillars, and of the gilt mace, those who shouldered
-the pole-axes, the running footmen, and the
-grooms who held the well-clothed mules. The
-servants of the palace stood round, and there
-came among them a troop of gentlemen in foreign
-costume, whose country could not be divined from
-their complexions, since each wore a mask, rarely
-painted wherever left uncovered by a beard made
-of gold or silver wire. When my Lord Cardinal
-came forth, glowing in scarlet damask, and
-towering above everybody else by the height of
-the pillion and black velvet noble which he carried
-on his head, these strangers hastened to
-range themselves round the mule, (little less
-disguised than they,) and to offer a homage which
-savoured of mockery nearly as strongly as that
-of casual passengers, who had good reason for beholding
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.02'>02</span>with impatience the ostentatious triumphs
-of the “butcher’s dog,” as an angry man had
-been heard to call my Lord Cardinal. Wolsey
-made a sudden halt, and his goodly shoe, blazing
-with gems, met the ground less tenderly than
-was its wont, as its wearer stopped to cast a keen
-glance upon the strangers. He removed from
-beneath his nose the orange peel filled with confections
-which might defy the taint of the common
-people, and handed it to a page, with a
-motion which signified that he perceived how an
-atmosphere awaited him which he need not fear
-to breathe. There was then a general pause.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Pleaseth it your Grace,” said one of the
-strangers, “there are certain in Blackfriars that
-await your Grace’s passage and arrival, to prosper
-a light affair, in which your Grace’s countenance
-will be comfortable to them. Will it please you
-to spare them further perplexity of delay?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Cardinal bowed low to the speaker,
-mounted his mule in all solemnity, and in a low
-voice asked for the honour of the stranger’s latest
-commands to his obedient parliament.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Commend us heartily to them, and see that
-they be readily obedient. We commend them
-to your Grace’s tuition and governance. We
-will be advertised of their answer at a certain
-fair house at Chelsea, where we shall divert ourselves
-till sunset. Pray heaven your Grace may
-meet as good diversion in Blackfriars!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The strangers renewed their obeisances, and
-drew back to allow the Cardinal’s stately retinue
-to form and proceed. The crowd of gazers
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.03'>03</span>moved on with the procession, and left but few
-to observe the motions of the strangers when the
-last scarlet drapery had fluttered, and the last
-gold mace had gleamed on the sight. He who
-seemed the leader of the foreigners then turned
-from the gate of the episcopal palace, followed
-by his companions. All mounted mules which
-awaited them at some distance, and proceeded in
-the direction of Chelsea.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>They saw many things on the way with which
-they might make merry. Pale, half-naked men
-were employed along the whole length of road
-in heaping up wood for bonfires, as the people
-had been told that it pleased the King’s Highness
-that they should rejoice for a mighty success
-over the French. There was something very
-diverting, it was found, in the economy of one
-who reserved a clean bit of board to be sawn into
-dust to eke out the substance of his children’s
-bread; and nothing could be more amusing than
-the coolness with which another pulled up the
-fence of his little field, that the wood might go
-to the bonfire, and the scanty produce of the soil
-to any wandering beggar who chose to take it,
-the owner having spent his all in supporting this
-war, and being now about to become a wandering
-beggar himself. He was complimented on
-his good cheer, when he said that the king’s asses
-were welcome to the thistles of his field, and the
-king’s pages to adorn themselves with the roses
-of his garden, since the king himself had levied
-as tribute the corn of the one and the fruits of
-the other. There was also much jesting with a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.04'>04</span>damsel who seemed nothing loth to part with her
-child, when they offered playfully to steal it to be
-brought up for the wars. She thought the boy
-might thus perchance find his father, since he
-owed his birth to one who had promised the
-woman to get her father released from the prison
-where he pined because he was unable to pay his
-share of the Benevolence by which the King’s
-wars were to be carried on. She would give her
-son in exchange for her father, in hopes of forgetting
-her anger and her shame. The child
-was cast back into her arms with the assurance
-that when he was strong enough to wield his
-weapon, the King’s Highness would call for him.
-The next diverting passage was the meeting with
-a company of nuns, on their way from their despoiled
-convent to find a hiding-place in London.
-There was some exercise of wit in divining, while
-the maidens kept their veils before their faces,
-which of them were under four-and-twenty, and
-might therefore be toyed with, according to the
-royal proclamation, that all below that age were
-released from their vows. When the veils were
-pulled aside, there was loud laughter at the
-trembling of some of the women, and the useless
-rage of others, and at the solemn gravity of the
-youngest and prettiest of them all, who was reproved
-by her superior for putting on a bold, undismayed
-face when so many older and wiser
-sisters were brought to their wits’ end. Nothing
-could be made of her, and she was therefore the
-first to be forgotten when new matter of sport
-appeared. A friar, fatter than he seemed likely
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.05'>05</span>to be in future, was seen toiling along the road
-under a loaded basket, which the frolickers were
-certain must contain something good, from its
-being in the custody of a man of God. They
-got round him, so enclosing him with their beasts
-that he could not escape, and requested to be
-favoured with the sight and scent of the savoury
-matters which his basket doubtless contained, and
-for which they hungered and thirsted, since they
-had seen none but meagre fare in the houses
-they had passed:—little better than coarse bread
-had met their eyes since their own morning meal.
-The friar was not unwilling to display his treasures,
-(although unsavoury,) in the hope of a parting
-gift: so the eyes of the stranger were regaled
-with the parings of St. Edmund’s toes,—the most
-fastidious of saints in respect of his feet, to judge
-from the quantity of such parings as one and
-another of the present company had seen since
-there had been a stir among the monasteries.
-There were two of the coals which had roasted
-St. Lawrence—now cool enough to be safely
-handled. A head of St. Ursula,—very like a
-whale,—but undoubtedly a head of St. Ursula,
-because it was a perfect preventive of weeds in
-corn. The friar was recommended to bestow it
-upon the poor man who had been seen pulling
-up the fence of his barren field; but the leader
-of the party could not spare the friar at present.
-The holy man did not know his own age, for
-certain. He must,—all the party would take
-their oath of it,—be under four-and-twenty, and
-his merriment would match admirably with the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.06'>06</span>gravity of the young nun who had just passed.
-Two of the revellers were sent back to catch, and
-bring her with all speed to Chelsea, where she
-should be married to the friar before the day was
-over; the King’s Highness being pleased to
-give her a dower. The friar affected to enjoy this
-as a jest, and sent a message to the damsel while
-inwardly planning how to escape from the party
-before they should reach Chelsea.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>His planning was in vain. He was ordered
-to ride behind one of the revellers, and his precious
-burden of relics was committed to the charge
-of another, and some of the mocking eyes of the
-party were for ever fixed on the holy man, insomuch
-that he did not dare to slip down and attempt
-to escape; and far too soon for him appeared
-the low, rambling house, its expanse of
-roof alive with pert pigeons, its garden alleys
-stretching down to the Thames, and its porch
-and gates guarded with rare, grim-looking stuffed
-quadrupeds placed in attitudes,—very unlike the
-living animals which might be seen moving at
-their pleasure in the meadow beyond.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>On the approach of the party, one female face
-after another appeared at the porch, vanished and
-reappeared, till an elderly lady came forth, laden
-with fruit, from a close alley, and served as a
-centre, round which rallied three or four comely
-young women, a middle-aged gentleman who was
-the husband of one of them, and not a few children.
-The elder dame smoothed a brow which
-was evidently too apt to be ruffled, put into her
-manner such little courtesy as she could attain,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.07'>07</span>and having seen that servants enough were in
-attendance to relieve her guests of their mules,
-offered the King’s Majesty the choice of the garden
-or the cooler house, while a humble repast
-was in course of preparation.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The attendant gentlemen liked the look of the
-garden, and the thought of straying through its
-green walks, or sitting by the water’s edge in
-company with the graceful and lively daughters
-of Sir Thomas More; but Henry chose to rest
-in the house, and it was necessary for some of his
-followers to remain beside him. While some,
-therefore, made their escape, and amused themselves
-with finding similitudes for one young lady
-in the swan which floated in a square pond, and
-in sprinkling another with drops from the fountain
-which rained coolness over the circular grass-plat,
-others were called upon to follow the King
-from the vestibule, which looked like the antechamber
-to Noah’s ark, and the gallery where
-the promising young artist, Holbein, had hung
-two or three portraits, to the study,—the large
-and airy study,—strewed with fresh rushes and
-ornamented with books, manuscripts, maps, viols,
-virginals, and other musical instruments, and
-sundry specimens of ladies’ works.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Marry,” said the King, looking round him,
-“there are no needs here of the lackery of my
-Lord Cardinal’s and other palaces. These maps
-and perspectives are as goodly as any cloth of
-gold at Hampton, or any cloth of bodkin at York
-House. Right fair ladies, this holy friar shall
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.08'>08</span>discourse to us, if you are so minded, of the
-things here figured forth.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The ladies had been accustomed to hear a holy
-man (though not a friar) discourse of things
-which were not dreamed of in every one’s
-philosophy; but they respectfully waited for
-further light from the friar, who now stepped
-forward to explain how no map could be made
-complete, because the end of the land and sea,
-where there was a precipice at its edge, overhanging
-hell, was shrouded with a dark mist. He
-found, with astonishing readiness, the country of
-the infidels, and, the very place of the sepulchre,
-and the land where recent travellers had met with
-the breed of asses derived from the beast which
-carried Christ into Jerusalem. These were known
-from the common ass from having, not only
-Christ’s common mark,—the cross,—but the
-marks of his stripes; and from the race suffering
-no one to ride them but a stray saint whom
-they might meet wayfaring. Many more such
-treasures of natural science did he lay open to
-his hearers with much fluency, as long as uninterrupted; but
-when the young ladies, as was
-their wont when discoursing on matters of science
-with their father or their tutor, made their inquiries
-in the Latin tongue, the friar lost his eloquence,
-and speedily substituted topics of theology; the
-only matter of which he could treat in Latin.
-This was not much to Henry’s taste. He could
-at any time hear all the theology he chose treated
-of by the first masters in his kingdom; but it
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.09'>09</span>was not every day that graceful young creatures,
-as witty as they were wise, were at hand to
-amuse his leisure with true tales,—not “of men
-whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders,”
-but of things quite as unknown to his experience,
-and far more beautiful to his fancy. It was a
-pity that Mr. Roper, the husband of the eldest
-of these young ladies, was present, as it prevented
-the guests putting all the perplexing questions
-which might otherwise have occurred to them.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>By the time the house had resounded with
-music, and the King had found his way up to the
-roof of the house,—where he had more than once
-amused himself with star-gazing, in the company
-of his trusty and well-beloved, the honourable
-Speaker, his host,—dinner was announced.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The dame had bustled about to so much purpose,
-that the service of pewter made a grand
-display, the board was amply spread, and the
-King’s Highness was not called upon to content
-himself with the homely fare of a farm-house, as
-he had been assured he must. There was a
-pudding which marvellously pleased the royal
-palate; and Henry would know whose ingenuity
-had devised the rare mixture of ingredients.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace,” replied the lady, "the
-honour must be parted between me and Margaret,
-now sitting at your Grace’s right hand.
-The matter was put in a good train by me, in
-every material point; but as touching the more
-cunning and delicate—"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Mine own good mistress Margaret,” interrupted
-Henry, “we are minded to distinguish
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.10'>10</span>the great pain and discretion that you have towardly
-exercised on this matter; and for a recompense,
-we appoint you the monies of the
-next monastery that we shall require to surrender.
-The only grace we ask is that we may appoint
-the marriage of the monks who shall owe
-their liberty to us. Please it you, holy father, to
-advertise us of a sumptuous monastery that may
-be most easily discharged?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I beseech your Grace to remember that what
-the regal power may overthrow, the papal power
-will rectify. Any damageable proceedings may
-bring on the head of your Highness’s servants
-a grievous punishment.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“From Servus Servorum?” said the King,
-laughing. “Let him come to the succour of the
-monks of Beggam, when they ring their abbey
-bell, and carry away the sums in their treasury
-from the hands of Mistress Margaret, to whom
-we appoint them. Nay, Mistress Margaret, I
-desire you as lovingly to take this largesse as I
-do mean it; and ensure yourself that that was
-ill-gotten which is now well-bestowed.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The friar probably wished to be dismissed from
-the King’s presence before his destined bride
-should arrive; for he muttered that dogs and
-base poisoners, who have their chiefest hope in
-this world, were ever ready to speak unfitting
-and slanderous words against those whom the
-holy Trinity held fast in his preservation. The
-naughty friar received, not an order to go about
-his business for supposing that Henry was deceived,
-but a box on the ear from the dignified
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.11'>11</span>hands of the monarch, and a promise that he
-should try the Little Ease in the Tower, if he
-did not constrain his contumacious tongue in the
-King’s presence. A dead silence followed this rebuff,—partly
-caused by dismay at the King’s levity
-about popish matters, and partly by sorrow that
-he should wantonly increase the enmity which
-was known to be borne to him by the monks
-and friars in his dominions. The only way of
-restoring the banished mirth was to call in one
-who stood without,—the facetious natural who
-was wont to season Henry’s repasts with his
-jests.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>As the jester entered, a royal messenger was
-seen standing outside, as if anxious to deliver
-the letter he had in charge; and, unfitting as
-seemed the time, it was presently in the hands of
-Henry. Its contents seemed to leave him in no
-humour for feast or jest; and he had given no
-further signal for mirth when his entirely beloved
-counsellor, the Cardinal, and his trusty and
-honourable Speaker arrived,—the one to glow
-and glitter in his costly apparel, and feast off
-“plump fesaunts,” and the other to resume the
-homely guise he loved best, and refresh himself
-with fruits and water.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Marry, my Lords,” cried the King, when
-they were seated, one on each side of him, “if
-the Lower House be not mindful of our needs,
-our sister of Scotland may satisfy herself for her
-jewels as she may. She is ashamed therewith;
-and would God there had never been word of the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.12'>12</span>legacy, as the jewels are worth less to her than
-our estimation.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Says the Queen of Scotland so much?” inquired
-the Cardinal.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Satisfy yourself how much more,” replied
-the King, handing to Wolsey the angry letter in
-which Margaret of Scotland expressed her contempt
-for the withholding of her father’s legacy
-of jewels.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Please your Highness, there are matters of
-other necessity than a perplexed woman’s letter,”
-observed the Cardinal, with a freedom of speech
-which was not now displeasing to his master.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Another wager lost by the Princess’s governante
-in her Highness’ name? Let us divert
-ourself with the inventory, my Lord Cardinal,
-while you refresh yourself in a more hearty wise
-than our trusty host.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Wolsey was impatient to consult upon the
-measures necessary to be taken to follow up the
-extorted resolution of the House to furnish supplies
-to the King’s needs: but Henry was in a
-mood for trifling, and he would examine for
-himself the list of requests from the steward of the
-Princess’s household; a list regularly addressed
-to the Cardinal, who chose to superintend the
-details of all the management that he could get
-into his own hands. Passing his arm round
-More’s neck, the King jested upon the items in
-the letter,—the ship of silver for the alms-dish,
-the spice plates, the disguisings for an interlude
-at a banquet, the trumpets for the minstrels,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.13'>13</span>and a bow and quiver for his lady’s Grace.
-There was an earnest beseeching for a Lord of
-Misrule for the honourable household, and for
-a rebeck to be added to the band. A fair steel
-glass from Venice was desired, and a pair of hose
-wrought in silk and gold from Flanders. There
-was an account of a little money paid for “Mr.
-John poticary” coming to see my lady sick,
-and a great deal for a pound and a half of gold
-for embroidering a night-gown. Something was
-paid for a frontlet lost in a wager with my little
-lady Jane; and something more for the shaving
-of her Grace’s fool’s head; and, again, for
-binding prentice the son of a servant, and for
-Christopher, the surgeon, letting her lady’s
-Grace blood; and again for a wrought carnation
-satin for the favoured lady’s maid.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I marvel, my Lord Cardinal,” said the
-King, “that your Grace can take advice of the
-ordering of the Princess’s spice plates, and leave
-your master to be sorely perplexed with the
-grooms and the yeomen and pages, and those
-that bring complaints from the buttery, and the
-wardrobe of beds, and the chaundery, and the
-stables, till my very life is worn with tales of the
-mighty wants and debts of the household.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace, my most curious inquisition
-hath of late been into the particulars
-of the royal household; and my latest enemies
-are divers grooms, yeomen, and pages, whom I
-have compelled to perform their bounden service
-to your Majesty, or to surrender it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Speaker conceived that the charge of his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.14'>14</span>own household would be enough for the Cardinal,
-if he were made as other men; but as the
-King’s was added, that of the Princess might
-reasonably devolve upon some less occupied——</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Upon yourself?” inquired the King. “Marry,
-if you were to appoint your spare diet of fruit for
-the Princess, Mistress Margaret should add to it
-such a pudding as I have to-day tasted. What
-say you, Mistress Margaret?” he continued, calling
-back the ladies who were modestly retiring,
-on finding the conversation turning upon matters
-of state.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My Margaret has no frontlets to lose in
-betting,” observed Sir Thomas More. “But
-your Grace knows that there are many who have
-more leisure for ordering the Princess’s household
-than your poor councillor. There are divers in
-your good city of London who can tell whether
-the silver ship for the alms-dish will not carry
-away the alms; and we have passed some by the
-wayside to-day who would see somewhat miraculous
-in these Venetian mirrors, not knowing their
-own faces therein.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“These are not mirrors whose quality it is to
-make faces seem long, or, certes, we ourself
-would use one,” said the King.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Long faces might sometimes be seen without
-glasses,” Sir Thomas More quietly replied.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“As for shaven fools’ heads,” observed the
-King, looking at the friar, “there is no need to
-go to the Princess’s household to divert ourselves
-with that spectacle. We will beseech our released
-monks, who must needs lack occupation,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.15'>15</span>to watch over their brethren of our household in
-this particular.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Sir Thomas More requested the friar to pronounce
-the thanksgiving over the board, (as
-the Cardinal had at length finished his meal,) and
-to instruct the women in certain holy matters,
-while the King’s Highness should receive account
-of the passages of the morning.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Henry looked from the one to the other to
-know what had been their success in raising
-money from his faithful Commons. The Cardinal
-opened to him his plans for securing assent
-to the levy of an enormous benevolence. Wolsey
-himself had never been more apt, more
-subtle, more busy, than in his devices on this
-occasion. He had found errands in remote parts
-for most whose obstinacy was to be feared. He
-had ordered down to the House all the King’s
-servants who had a vote there: had discharged
-easily of their sins many who were wavering in
-the matter of the subsidy; and had made as imposing
-an appearance as possible on going to
-Blackfriars to “reason” with the members who
-believed that the people could not pay the money.
-And what was the result?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Please it your Grace to understand that there
-hath been the greatest and sorest hold in the
-House that ever was seen, I think, in any Parliament.
-There was such a hold that the House
-was like to be dissevered, but that the Speaker
-did mediate graciously between your Highness
-and the greedy Jews that bearded me.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Mediate, I trow! And why not command,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.16'>16</span>as beseems the Speaker?” cried the King, glancing
-angrily on More.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“In his bearing the Speaker is meek,” observed
-Wolsey, with some malice in his tone.
-“His words were dutiful, and the lowness of his
-obeisance an ensample to the whole Parliament.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And what were his acts?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“He informed me that the Commons are not
-wont to be reasoned with by strangers, and that
-the splendour of my poor countenance must
-needs bewilder their deliberations.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“So be it. We have deliberated too long
-and too deeply for our royal satisfaction on the
-matter of filling our coffers. We expect our
-Commons to fill them without deliberation.
-Wherefore this repining and delay?” asked
-Henry of More.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Because your Grace’s true servants would
-that this vast sum should be well and peaceably
-levied, without grudge——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We trouble not ourself about the grudge, if
-it be surely paid,” interrupted Henry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We would that your Grace should not lose
-the true hearts of your subjects, which we reckon
-a greater treasure than gold and silver,” replied
-the Speaker.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And why lose their hearts? Do they think
-that no man is to fare well, and be well clothed
-but themselves?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That is the question they have this morning
-asked of the Lord Cardinal,” replied More,
-“when my Lord discoursed to them of the wealth
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.17'>17</span>of the nation, as if it were a reason why they should
-make such a grant as your Majesty’s ancestors
-never heard of. One said that my lord had seen
-something of the wealth of the nation, in the form
-of a beautiful welcoming of your Majesty; but of
-the nation’s poverty, it is like the Lord Cardinal
-has seen less than he may see, if the benevolence
-is finally extorted.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And who is this one that beards my Lord
-Cardinal?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The one who spoke of the nation’s poverty is
-one who hath but too much cause to do so from what
-his own eyes have seen within his own household.
-He is one Richard Read, an honourable alderman
-of London, once wealthy, but now, as I said,
-entitled, through his service to your Majesty, to
-discourse of poverty.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Marry, I would that he would discourse of
-our poverty as soothly as of his own. Has he
-been bearded by France? Is he looking for an
-invasion from Scotland? Has he relations with
-his Holiness, and enterprizes of war to conduct?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Such were the questions of my Lord Cardinal.
-He seems to be fully possessed of your
-Grace’s mind.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And what was the answer?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That neither had the late King left to him in
-legacy nearly two millions of pounds. Neither
-had he levied a benevolence last year, nor borrowed
-twenty thousand pounds of the city of
-London. If he had, there might not now perhaps
-have been occasion for alleging such high necessity
-on the King’s part, nor for such high poverty
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.18'>18</span>expressed, not only by the commoners, citizens,
-and burgesses, but by knights, esquires, and gentlemen
-of every quarter.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And the Lord Cardinal did not allow such
-argument of poverty. How did he rebuke the
-traitor for his foul sayings?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace, this Richard Read was
-once this day ordered to be committed to prison,
-but he is still abroad. He regards himself and
-his family as despoiled by never having rest from
-payments; and he cares not greatly what he does.
-This is also the condition of so many that it
-would not be safe to offer vengeance till the
-cuckoo time and hot weather (at which time mad
-brains are most wont to be busy) shall be overpassed.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The King rose in great disturbance, and demanded
-of Wolsey why he had not sent to a distance
-all who were likely to dispute the subsidy
-he desired. Wolsey coolly assured him that this
-was an easier thing to speak of than to do, as
-there were but too large a number who desired
-that no more conquests should be sought in
-France, urging that the winning thereof would
-be more chargeful than profitable, and the keeping
-more chargeful than the winning. Audacious
-dogs were these, the Cardinal declared;
-but it must be wary whipping till some could be
-prevented from flying at the throat, while another
-was under the lash. But the day should
-come when those who ought to think themselves
-only too much honoured in being allowed to
-supply the King’s needs, should leave off impertinently
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.19'>19</span>speculating on the infinite sums which
-they said had been already expended in the invading
-of France, out of which nothing had prevailed
-in comparison with the costs. If his Majesty
-would but turn over his vengeance to his
-poor councillor, the pernicious knaves should be
-made to repent.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Of the salt tears they have shed, only for
-doubt how to find money to content the King’s
-Highness?” inquired More.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Their tears shall hiss hot upon their cheeks
-in the fire of my vengeance,” cried the King.
-“Send this traitor Read to prison, that he may
-answer for his words. If he keeps his head, he
-shall come out with such a hole in his tongue
-as shall make him for ever glad to keep it
-within his teeth.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Cardinal endeavoured to divert the King’s
-rage. He was as willing as his royal master that
-this honest alderman Read should suffer for his
-opposition to the exactions of the Government;
-but he knew that to send one murmurer to prison
-at this crisis would be to urge on to rebellion
-thousands of the higher orders, to head the insurrections
-which were already beginning in the
-eastern counties. He now hastened to assure
-Henry that there had not been wanting some
-few men besides himself to rebuke the stupidity
-of those who complained of the impoverishment
-of the nation, and to explain that that which was
-given to the King for his needs was returned
-by the King in the very supplying of those needs.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“After there had been much discourse,” said
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.20'>20</span>he, “of what straits the nation would be in if
-every man had to pay away his money, and how
-the whole frame and intercourse of things would
-be altered if tenants paid their landlords in corn
-and cattle, so that the landlords would have but
-little coin left for traffic, so that the nation itself,
-for want of money, must grow in a sort barbarous
-and ignoble, it was answered that the money was
-only transferred into the hands of others of the
-same nation, as in a vast market where, though
-the coin never lies still, all are accommodated.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I will use despatch,” observed More, “to
-write this comforting news to a cousin-german of
-mine, who is in sore distress because some rogues
-have despoiled him of a store of angels that he had
-kept for his daughter’s dower. I will assure him
-that there can be no impoverishment in his case.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Wolsey had not finished his speech. He had
-something still to say about how much more
-precious was the wealth which descended from
-the throne in streams of royal bounty and custom
-than when it went up from the rude hands of his
-unworthy subjects. His Majesty only accepted
-for a time, in order to return what he had received,
-embalmed with his grace, and rendered
-meet to be handled with reverential ecstacy.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Further good tidings for my cousin-german,”
-observed More. "If the money which has been
-taken from him be spent in purchasing his corn
-and cattle, he has nothing to complain of. His
-injury is repaired, and his daughters are dowered.
-O rare reparation,—when the gentleman
-is no worse, and the rogues are the better by the
-corn and cattle!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.21'>21</span>“At this rate, O rare philosopher!” said
-Henry, “the way to make men rich is to rob
-them; and to tax a people is to give them wealth.
-We have wit, friend, to spy out jest from earnest.
-But who reports of these salt tears?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Does not every report from the eastern
-counties savour of them?” inquired More. “And
-in the west a like pernicious rheum distils in the
-cold wind of poverty. And so it is in the north
-and south, though this be the cuckoo time, and
-the season of hot weather.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is the Parliament, your Grace may be assured,”
-interrupted the Cardinal,—“it is your
-right trusty Lower House that devises sad tales of
-salt tears to move such pitiful hearts as that of
-the Honourable Speaker. If your Grace had
-seen how enviously they looked upon my poor
-train, as we entered Blackfriars, and how they
-stood peevishly mute in the House, each one like
-your Highness’s natural under disfavour, your
-Grace would marvel that the tales are not of
-tears of blood.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Patience!” said More. “The next east
-wind will bring such rumours as you speak of.
-They are already abroad.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The Parliament shall not puff them in our
-face,” cried Henry. “On our conscience, we
-have borne with our faithless Commons too long.
-They shall have another seven years to spy out
-the poverty that is above them, while we will not
-listen to their impertinent tales of that which is
-below. My Lord Cardinal, let them be dispersed
-for seven years.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.22'>22</span>“And then,” observed More, "they will have
-time to learn what your Majesty’s wisdom already
-discerns,—how much more fatal is poverty in
-high places than in low. The contemptible
-handicraftsman can, while consuming his scanty
-food of to-day, produce the scanty food of to-morrow;
-while the gallants of your Grace’s
-court,—right noble gentlemen as they are,—must
-beg of the low artizan to repair to-morrow
-that which they magnificently consume to-day."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My nobles are not beggars,” cried the King.
-“They pay for their pomp.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Most true. And their gold is right carefully
-cleansed from the rust of salt tears, which else
-might blister their delicate fingers. But were it
-not better for them to take their largess from the
-people in corn and meat and wine at once,—since
-the coin which they handle hath been already
-touched by the owner of land who has taken it
-as rent, or, worse still, by the merchant as his
-gains, or, worst of all, by the labourer as his
-hire?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Wolsey assured the Speaker that his suggestion
-would soon be acted upon. The people were so
-shy of making payments from their rent, their
-profits, and their wages, that it would be necessary
-to take for the King’s service the field of
-the landowner, the stock of the merchant,
-and——</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And what next? For then there will be
-left no hire for the labourer.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Cardinal grew suddenly oracular about
-the vicissitudes of human affairs, and the presumption
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.23'>23</span>of looking into futurity. The Speaker
-bowed low under the holy man’s discourse, and
-the King was reassured.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I marvel that your wit does not devise some
-pastimes that may disperse the ill-blood of the
-people,” said Henry. “Dull homes cloud men’s
-minds with vapours; and your Grace is full
-strict with them in respect of shows and outward
-apparel. My gallants have not ceased their
-jests on the aged man from whom your Grace’s
-own hands stripped the crimson jacket decked
-with gauds. And there is talk of many pillories
-being wanted for men who have worn shirts of a
-finer texture than suits your Grace’s pleasure.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Is there not amusement enough for the
-people,” asked More, "in gazing at the Lord
-Cardinal’s train? For my part, I know not elsewhere
-of so fine a pageant. If they must have
-more, the legate is coming, and who has measured
-the scarlet cloth which is sent over to Calais
-to clothe Campeggio’s train? This will set
-the people agape for many days,—if they can
-so spy out my Lord Cardinal’s will about their
-apparel as to dare to come forth into the highway."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The King thought the pleasure of beholding a
-pageant did not last long enough effectually to
-quiet the popular discontents. He wished that
-fields could be opened for the sports of the young
-men, and that companies of strolling mummers
-could be supported at the royal expense. His
-miraculous bounty and benignity were extolled
-so that it was a pity the people themselves were
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.24'>24</span>not by to say Amen; but it was feared the said
-people must take the will for the deed, as, in the
-present condition of the exchequer, it was impossible
-to afford the appropriation of the ground,
-the outlay upon it to render it fit for the proposed
-objects, or the annual expense of keeping it up.
-The people must remain subject to blue devils,
-and liable to rebellion, till the Scots were beaten
-off, and the French vanquished; till the Pope had
-done with Henry, and the court had been gratified
-with a rare new masque, for which an extraordinary
-quantity of cloth of gold, and cloth of silver,
-and cloth of taffety, and cloth of bodkin, would
-be necessary; to say nothing of the forty-four
-varieties of jewelled copes of the richest materials
-which had been ordered for the chaplains and
-cunning singing-men of the royal chapel. The
-king’s dignity must be maintained;—a truth in
-which More fully agreed. What kingly dignity
-is, he was wont to settle while pacing one of the
-pleached alleys of his garden as the sun was
-going down in state, presenting daily a gorgeous
-spectacle which neither Wolsey nor Campeggio
-could rival, and which would have been better
-worth the admiration of the populace if their eyes
-had not been dimmed by hunger, and their spirits
-jarred by tyranny into a dissonance with nature.
-More was wont to ridicule himself as a puppet
-when decked out with his official trappings; and he
-was apt to fancy that such holy men as the future
-Defender of the Faith and the anointed Cardinal
-must have somewhat of the same notions of
-dignity as himself.—There were also seasons
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.25'>25</span>when he remembered that there were other
-purposes of public expenditure besides the
-maintenance of the outward state of the sovereign.
-His daughters and he had strengthened one
-another in the notion that the public money
-ought to be laid out in the purchase of some
-public benefit; and that it would not be unpardonable
-in the nation to look even beyond the
-<span class='sc'>Defence</span> of their territory, and ask for an ample
-administration of <span class='sc'>Justice</span>, a liberal provision for
-<span class='sc'>Public Works</span>, and perhaps, in some wiser age,
-an extensive apparatus of <span class='sc'>National Education</span>.
-He was wont to look cheerfully to the
-good Providence of God in matters where he could
-do nothing; but he was far from satisfied that
-the enormous sums squandered in damaging the
-French availed anything for the defence of the
-English; or that those who most needed justice
-were the most likely to obtain it, as long as it
-must be sought with a present in the hand which
-was not likely to be out-bid; or that the itinerant
-justice-mongers of his day were of much advantage
-to the people, as long as their profits and their
-credit in high quarters depended on the amount
-they delivered in as amercements of the guilty.
-He was not at all sure that the peasant who had
-done his best to satisfy the tax-gatherer was the
-more secure against the loss of what remained of
-his property, whenever a strong oppressor should
-choose to wrest it from him. He could see
-nothing done in the way of public works by which
-the bulk of the tax-payers might be benefited.
-Indeed, public possessions of this kind were
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.26'>26</span>deteriorating even faster, if possible, than private
-property; and the few rich commoners, here and
-there, who dreaded competition in their sales of
-produce, might lay aside their fears for the present.
-Competition was effectually checked, not only by
-the diminution of capital, but by the decay of
-roads and bridges which there were no funds to
-repair. As for education, the only chance was
-that the people might gain somewhat by the
-insults offered to the Church. The unroofed
-monks might carry some slight scent of the odour
-of learning from the dismantled shrines; but
-otherwise it seemed designed that the people’s
-acquaintance with polite learning should be confined
-to two points which were indeed very strenuously
-taught,—the King’s supremacy and the
-Cardinal’s infallibility.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>More was not much given to reverie. While
-others were discoursing, his ready wit seldom
-failed to interpose to illustrate and vivify what
-was said. His low, distinct utterance made
-itself heard amidst the laughter or the angry
-voices which would have drowned the words of
-almost any one else; and the aptness of his
-speech made him as eagerly sought in the royal
-circle as sighed for by his own family, when he
-was not at hand to direct and enlighten their
-studies in their modest book-chamber. He was
-much given to thought in his little journeys to
-and from town, and in his leisure hours of river-gazing,
-and star-exploring; but he seldom
-indulged his meditations in company. Now,
-however, while Henry and Wolsey laid their
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.27'>27</span>scheme for swearing every man of the King’s
-subjects to his property, and taxing him accordingly,—not
-only without the assistance of
-Parliament, but while the Commons were
-dispersed for seven years,—More was speculating
-within himself on the subject of kingly dignity.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“One sort of dignity,” thought he, "consists
-with the purposes of him who regards his people
-as his servants, and another with the wishes of him
-who regards himself as the servant of his people.
-As for the monarchs who live in times when the
-struggle is which party shall be a slave, God’s
-mercy be on them and their people! Their
-throne moves, like an idol’s car, over the bones
-of those who have worshipped or defied their
-state; and they have fiends to act as mummers
-in their pageants, and defiled armour for their
-masques, and much dolorous howling in the place
-of a band of minstrels. In such days the people
-pay no tax, because the monarch has only to
-stretch forth his hand and take. It is a better
-age when the mummers are really merry, and
-minstrels make music that gladdens the heart
-like wine; and gaudy shows make man’s face to
-shine like the oil of the Hebrews: but it would
-be better if this gladdening of some made no
-heart heavy; and this partial heaviness must
-needs be where childish sports take place; and
-the gawds of a court like ours are but baby
-sports after all. When my little ones made a
-pageant in the meadow, there were ever some
-sulking, sooner or later, under the hedge or
-within the arbour, while there was unreasonable
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.28'>28</span>mirth among their fellows in the open sunshine,—however
-all might be of one accord in the study
-and at the board. And so is it ever with those
-who follow childish plays, be they august kings,
-or be they silly infants. But it is no April grief
-that clouds the faces of the people while their
-King is playing the master in order afterwards
-to enact the buffoon. They have spent more
-upon him than the handful of meadow-flowers
-that children fling into the lap to help the show;
-and they would do worse in their moods than
-pull these gay flowers to pieces, after the manner
-of a freakish babe. Remembering that it is the
-wont of honest masters to pay their servants,
-they are ill content to pay the very roofs from off
-their houses, and the seed from out of their
-furrows, to be lorded over, and for the greatest
-favour, laid at the gate to see Dives pass in and
-out in his purple and fine linen. It is ill sport
-for Dives to whistle up his dogs to lick the poor
-man’s sores when so black a gulf is opening
-yonder to swallow up his pomp. May be, his
-brethren that shall come after him shall be wiser;
-as all are apt to become as time rolls on. The
-matin hour decks itself gorgeously with long
-bright trains, and flaunts before men’s winking
-eyes, as if all this grandeur were not made of
-tears caught up for a little space into a bright
-region, but in their very nature made to dissolve
-and fall in gloom. But then there is an end of
-the folly, and out of the gloom step forth other
-hours, growing clearer, and more apt to man’s
-steady uses; so that when noon is come, there
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.29'>29</span>is no more pranking and shifting of purple and
-crimson clouds, but the sun is content to light
-men perfectly to their business, without being
-worshipped as he was when gayer but less
-glorious. Perhaps a true sun-like king may
-come some day, when men have grown eagle-eyed
-to hail such an one; and he will not be for
-calling people from their business to be dazzled
-with him; nor for sucking up all that the earth
-will yield, so that there may be drought around
-and gloom overhead. Rather will he call out
-bubbling springs from the warm hill-side, and cast
-a glister over every useful stream, to draw men’s
-eyes to it; and would rather thirst himself than
-that they should. Such an one will be content
-to leave it to God’s hand to fill him with glory,
-and would rather kiss the sweat from off the poor
-man’s brow, than that the labourer should waste
-the precious time in falling on his knees to him
-to mock him with idolatry. Though he be high
-enough above the husbandman’s head, he is not
-the lord of the husbandman, but in some sort his
-servant; though it be a service of more glory
-than any domination.—If he should chance vainly
-to forget that there sitteth One above the firmament,
-he may find that the same Maker who
-once stayed the sun for the sake of one oppressed
-people may, at the prayer of another, wheel the
-golden throne hurriedly from its place, and call
-out constellations of lesser lights, under whose
-rule men may go to and fro, and refresh themselves
-in peace. The state of a king that domineers is
-one thing; and the dignity of a king that serves
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.30'>30</span>and blesses is another; and this last is so noble,
-that if any shall arise who shall not be content
-with the office’s simplicity, but must needs deck it
-with trappings and beguile it with toys, let him
-be assured that he is as much less than man as
-he is more than ape; and it were wiser in him to
-rummage out a big nut to crack, and set himself
-to switch his own tail, than seek to handle the
-orb and stretch out the sceptre of kings."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was a day of disappointments to Henry.
-Not only were his Commons anything but
-benevolently disposed towards furnishing the
-benevolence required, but the young nun would
-not come to be married to the friar. The
-gallants who had been sent for her now appeared
-before the King with fear and trembling, bearing
-sad tidings of the sturdiness of female self-will.
-They had traced the maiden to the house of her
-father, one Richard Read, and had endeavoured
-to force her away with them, notwithstanding her
-own resistance, and her mother’s and sister’s
-prayers and tears. In the midst of the dispute,
-her father had returned from Blackfriars, surrounded
-by the friends who had joined him in
-declining the tribute which they were really
-unable to pay. Heated by the insolent words
-which had been thrown at them by the Cardinal,
-and now exasperated by the treatment his
-daughter had met with, Read had dropped a few
-words,—wonderfully fierce to be uttered in the
-presence of courtiers in those days,—which were
-now repeated in the form of a message to the
-King:—Read had given his daughter to be the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.31'>31</span>spouse of Christ, and had dowered her accordingly;
-and it did not now suit his paternal
-ambition that she should be made the spouse of
-a houseless friar for the bribe of a dowry from
-the King; this dowry being actually taken from
-her father under the name of a benevolence to
-aid the King’s necessities. He would neither
-sell his daughter nor buy the King’s favour.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Henry was of course enraged, and ordered the
-arrest of the entire household of Richard Read;
-a proceeding which the Cardinal and the Speaker
-agreed in disliking as impolitic in the present
-crisis. Wolsey represented to the King that there
-could be no failure of the subsidy if every recusant
-were reasoned with apart, instead of being
-placed in a position where his malicious frowardness
-would pervert all the rest of the waverers.
-If good words and amiable behaviour did not
-avail to induce men to contribute, the obstinate
-might be brought before the privy council; or,
-better still, be favoured with a taste of military
-service. Henry seized upon the suggestion,
-knowing that such service as that of the Border
-war was not the pleasantest occupation in the
-world for a London alderman, at the very time
-when his impoverished and helpless family especially
-needed his protection. He lost sight, for
-the time, as Wolsey intended that he should, of
-the daughter, while planning fresh tyranny towards
-her father. The church would be spared the
-scandal of such a jesting marriage as had been
-proposed, if, as the Cardinal hoped, the damsel
-should so withdraw herself as not to be found in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.32'>32</span>the morning. The religious More had aspirations
-to the same effect.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is a turning of nature from its course,”
-said he, “to make night-birds of these tender
-young swallows; but they are answerable who
-scared them from beneath their broad eaves when
-they were nestled and looked for no storm. Pray
-the Lord of Hosts that he may open a corner in
-some one of his altars for this ruffled fledgeling!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Little did the gentle daughters of More suspect
-for what message they were summoned to produce
-writing materials, and desired to command
-the attendance of a king’s messenger. Their
-father was not required to be aiding and abetting
-in this exercise of royal tyranny. Perceiving
-that his presence was not wished for, he stepped
-into his orchard, to refresh himself with speculations
-on his harvest of pippins, and to hear what
-his family had to say on his position with respect
-to the mighty personages within.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I marvel,” said his wife to him, “that you
-should be so wedded to your own small fancies as
-to do more things that may mislike his Grace
-than prove your own honest breeding. What
-with your undue haste to stretch your limbs in
-your bedesman’s apparel, and your simple desire
-to mere fruit and well-water, his Highness
-may right easily content himself that his bounty
-can add nothing to your state.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And so shall he best content me, dame.
-Worldly honour is the thing of which I have resigned
-the desire; and as for worldly profit, I
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.33'>33</span>trust experience proveth, and shall daily prove,
-that I never was very greedy therein.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Roper saw no reason for the lady’s rebuke
-or apprehensions. When did the King’s
-Highness ever more lovingly pass his arm round
-any subject’s neck than this day, when he caressed
-the honourable Speaker of his faithful Commons?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“There is full narrow space, Mr. Roper, between
-my shoulders and my head to serve as a
-long resting-place for a king’s caress. Trust me,
-if he had been a Samson, and if it had suited the
-pleasure of his Grace, he would at that moment
-have plucked my head from my shoulders before
-you all. It may be well for plain men that a
-king’s finger and thumb are not stronger than
-those of any other man.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Henry and his poor councillor now appeared
-from beneath the porch, the one not the less gay,
-the other not the less complacent, for their having
-together made provision for the utter ruin of a
-family whose only fault was their poverty. A
-letter had been written to the general commanding
-on the Scotch border, to desire that Richard
-Read, now sent down to serve as a soldier at his
-own charge, should be made as miserable as possible,
-should be sent out on the most perilous
-duty in the field, and subjected to the most severe
-privations in garrison, and used in all things
-according to the sharp military discipline of the
-northern wars, in retribution for his refusing to
-pay money which he did not possess. The snare
-being thus fixed, the train of events laid by which
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.34'>34</span>the unhappy wife and daughters were to be compelled
-first to surrender their only guardian, then
-to give their all for his ransom from the enemy,
-and, lastly, to mourn him slain in the field,—this
-hellish work being carefully set on foot, the
-devisers thereof came forth boldly into God’s daylight,
-to amuse themselves with innocence and
-flatter the ear of beauty till the sun went down,
-and then to mock the oppressed citizens of London
-with the tumult of their pomp and revelry.
-Perhaps some who turned from the false glare to
-look up into the pure sky might ask why the
-heavens were clear,—where slept the thunderbolt?</p>
-<hr class='c011'>
-<div>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.35'>35</span>
- <h3 id='ch2.2' class='c012'>SECOND AGE.</h3>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>It was not Sunday morning, yet the bells of
-every steeple in London had been tolling since
-sunrise; the shops were all shut; and there was
-such an entire absence of singers and jugglers,
-of dancing bears and frolicking monkeys in the
-streets, that it might seem as if the late Protector
-had risen from his grave, and stalked abroad to
-frown over the kingdom once more. Nothing
-this morning betokened the reign of a merry
-monarch. No savour of meats issued from any
-house; no echo of music was heard; the streets
-were as yet empty, the hour of meeting for worship
-not having arrived, and there being no other
-cause for coming abroad. There was more than
-a sabbath purity in the summer sky, unstained by
-smoke as it could never be but on the day of a
-general fast in summer. The few boats on the
-river which brought worshippers from a distance
-to observe the solemn ordinance in the city,
-glided along without noise or display. There was
-no exhibition of flags; no shouting to rival barks;
-no matching against time. The shipping itself
-seemed to have a mournful and penitential air,
-crowded together in silence and stillness. The
-present had been an untoward season, as regarded
-the nation’s prosperity, in many respects; and
-when the court and the people were heartily tired
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.36'>36</span>of the festivities which had followed the King’s
-marriage, they bethought themselves of taking
-the advice of many of their divines, and deprecating
-the wrath of Heaven in a solemn day of
-entreaty for rain, and for vengeance on their
-enemies.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The deepest gloom was not where, perhaps, it
-would have been looked for by the light-minded
-who regarded such observances as very wholesome
-for the common people, but extremely tiresome
-for themselves. Dr. Reede, a young Presbyterian
-clergyman, the beloved pastor of a large
-congregation in London, came forth from his
-study an hour before the time of service, with a
-countenance anything but gloomy, though its
-mild seriousness befitted the occasion. Having
-fully prepared himself for the pulpit, he sought
-his wife. He found her with her two little children,
-the elder of whom was standing at a chair,
-turning over the gilt leaves of a new book; while
-the younger, a tender infant, nestled on its
-mother’s bosom as she walked, in a rather hurried
-manner, from end to end of the apartment.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What hath fallen out, Esther? Is the babe
-ill-disposed?” asked the husband, stooping to
-look into the tiny face that peeped over Esther’s
-shoulder.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The child is well, my love; and the greater
-is my sin in being disturbed. I will be so no
-more,” she continued, returning to the seat where
-the child was playing with the book; “I will fret
-myself no more on account of evildoers, as the
-word of God gives commandment.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.37'>37</span>“Is it this which hath troubled you?” asked
-her husband, taking up the volume,—the new
-Book of Common Prayer,—of which every
-clergyman must shortly swear that he believed
-the whole, or lose his living. “We knew,
-Esther, what must be in this book. We knew
-that it must contain that which would make it to
-us as the false gospel of the infidels; and, thus
-knowing, there is no danger in the book.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>And he took it up, and turned over its pages,
-presently observing, with a smile,—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Truly, it is a small instrument wherewith to
-be turned out of so large a living. I could lay
-my finger over the parts which make a gulf between
-my church and me which I may not pass.
-The leaven is but little; but since there it must
-lie, it leavens the whole lump.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do you think?” inquired Esther, hesitatingly;
-"is it supposed that many will——that
-your brethren regard the matter as you do?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It will be seen in God’s own time how many
-make a conscience of the oaths they take in his
-presence. For me it is enough that I believe not
-all that is in this book. If it had been a question
-whether the King would or would not compel the
-oath, I could have humbled myself under his feet
-to beseech him to spare the consciences which no
-King can bind; but as it is now too late for this,
-we must cheerfully descend to a low estate among
-men, that we may look up before God.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Without doubt; I mean nought else; but
-when, and where shall we go?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In a few days, unless it should please God to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.38'>38</span>touch the hearts that he hath hardened,—in a few
-days we must gird ourselves to go forth."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“With these little ones! And where?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Where there may be some unseen to bid us
-God speed! Whether the path shall open to the
-right hand or to the left, what matters it?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"True: if a path be indeed opened. But
-these little ones——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“God hath sent food into the heart of wildernesses
-whence there was no path; and the Scripture
-hath a word of the young ravens which
-cry.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"It hath. I will never again, by God’s grace,
-look back to the estate which my father lost for
-this very King. But, without reckoning up that
-score with him, it moves the irreligious themselves
-to see how he guides himself in these
-awful times,—toying in his palace-walks this
-very morning, while he himself puts sackcloth on
-the whole nation. Edmund is just come in from
-seeing the King standing on the green walk in
-the palace-garden, and jesting with the Jezebel
-who ever contrives to be at that high, back window
-as he passes by. I would the people knew
-of it, that they might avoid the scandal of interceding
-for a jester whom they suppose to be worshipping
-with them, while he is thinking of nothing
-so little all the time as worshipping any
-but his own wantons."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If Edmund can thus testify, it is time that
-I were enlarging my prayer for the King. If for
-the godly we intercede seven times, should it not
-for the ungodly be seventy-times seven?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.39'>39</span>Mrs. Reede’s brother Edmund could confirm
-the account. In virtue of an office which he
-held, he had liberty to pass through the palace-garden.
-The sound of mirth, contrasting strangely
-with the distant toll of bells, had drawn him into
-the shade; and he had seen Charles throwing
-pebbles up to a window above, where a lady was
-leaning out, and pelting him with sweetmeats in
-return. It was hoped that the queen, newly married,
-and a stranger in the country, was in some
-far-distant corner of the palace, and that she did
-not yet understand the tongue in which Charles’s
-excesses were wont to be openly spoken of. The
-Corporations of London had not yet done feasting
-and congratulating this most unhappy lady;
-but all supposed matter of congratulation was
-already over. The clergy of the kingdom prayed
-for her as much from compassion as duty; and
-her fate served them as an unspoken text for their
-discourses on the vanity of worldly greatness. The
-mothers of England dropped tears at the thought
-of the lonely and insulted stranger; and their
-daughters sighed their pity for the neglected
-bride.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund now came into the room, and his appearance
-cost Dr. Reede more sighs than his own
-impending anxieties. Though Edmund held a
-place of honour and trust at the Admiralty, he
-had been in possession of it too short a time to
-justify such a display as he had of late appeared
-disposed to make. On this day of solemn fast,
-he seemed to have no thought of sackcloth, but
-showed himself in a summer black bombazin
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.40'>40</span>suit, trimmed very nobly with scarlet ribbon; a
-camlet cloak, lined with scarlet; a prodigious
-periwig, and a new beaver.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What news do you bring from the navy-yards?”
-inquired Dr. Reede. “Is there hope of
-the ill spirit being allayed, and the defence of the
-country cared for?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“In truth, but little,” replied Edmund, "unless
-it become the custom to pay people their dues.
-What with the quickness of the enemy, and the
-slowness of the people to work without their
-wages, and the chief men running after the shows
-and pastimes of the court, and others keeping
-their hands by their sides through want of the
-most necessary materials, and the waste that
-comes of wanton idleness,—it is said by certain
-wise persons that it will be no wonder if our
-enemies come to our very shores to defy us, and
-burn our shipping in our own river."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>°How is it that you obtain your dues, Edmund?
-This neat suit would be hardly paid for
-out of your private fortune."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is time for me to go like myself,” said
-Edmund, conceitedly, “liable as I am to stand
-before the King or the Duke. I might complain,
-like the rest, that but little money is to be seen;
-but, with such as I have, I must do honour to
-the King’s Majesty, whom I am like to see to-day.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede had so strong an apprehension that
-Edmund would soon be compelled, like others, to
-forego his salary, that she saw little that was safe
-and honourable in spending his money on dress
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.41'>41</span>as fast as it came in. But that the servants of
-government were infected with the vanities of
-the government, they would prepare for the evil
-days which were evidently coming on, instead of
-letting their luxury and their poverty grow together.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“So is it ever, whether the vices of government
-be austere or pleasant,” observed Dr. Reede.
-“The people must needs look and speak sourly
-when Oliver grew grave; and now, they have
-suddenly turned, as it were, into a vast troop of
-masqueraders, because the court is merry. But
-there is a difference in the two examples which it
-behoves discerning men to perceive. In respect
-of religious gravity, all men stand on the same
-ground; it is a matter between themselves and
-their God. But the government has another responsibility,
-in regard to its extravagance: it is
-answerable to men; for government does not
-earn the wealth it spends; and each act of waste
-is an injury to those who have furnished the
-means, and an insult to every man who toils hard
-for scanty bread.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Government could not be expected to look too
-closely into these matters, Edmund thought. All
-governments were more or less extravagant; and
-he supposed they always would be.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Because they live by the toil of others? If
-so, there is a remedy in making the government
-itself toil.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“I would fain see it,” cried Mrs. Reede. “I
-would fain see the King unravelling his perplexed
-accounts; and the Duke bestirring himself among
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.42'>42</span>the ships and in the army, instead of taking the
-credit of what better men do; and the court ladies
-ordering their houses discreetly, while their husbands
-made ready to show what service they had
-done the nation. Then, my dear, you would
-preach to a modest, and sober, and thankful
-people, who, with one heart, would be ready to
-listen.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is but too far otherwise now,” replied Dr.
-Reede. "Of my hearers, some harden their
-hearts in unchristian contempt of all that is not
-as sad as their own spirits; and others look to
-see that the cloak hangs from the shoulder in a
-comely fashion as they stand. At the same time,
-there is more need of the word the more men’s
-minds are divided. This is the age when virtue
-is oppressed, and the selfish make mirth. Of
-those that pray for the King’s Majesty, how
-many have given him their children’s bread, and
-mourn and pine, while the gay whom they feed
-have no thought for their misery! Edmund himself
-allows that the shipwrights go home without
-their wages, while he who works scarce at all
-disports himself with his bombazin suit and scarlet
-ribbons. Can I preach to them as effectually
-as if they were content, and he——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What?” inquired Edmund.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In truth, Edmund, I could less find in my
-heart to admonish these defrauded men for stealing
-bread from the navy-stores for their hungry
-children, than you for drawing their envious eyes
-upon you. The large money that pays your
-small service, whose is it but theirs,—earned
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.43'>43</span>hardly, paid willingly to the King, to be spent in
-periwigs and silk hose? Shall men who thus
-injure and feel injury in their worldly labour, listen
-with one heart and mind to the Sabbath word?
-Too well I know that, from end to end of this
-kingdom, there is one tumult of bad passions
-which set the Scriptures at nought. The lion
-devours the lamb; the innocent know too well the
-sting of the asp; and as often as a fleece appears,
-men spy for the wolf beneath it. What chance
-hath the word when it falls upon ground so encumbered?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund pleaded that, though he had done little
-yet to merit his public salary, he meant to do a
-great deal. This very day, the King had appointed
-some confidential person to confer with
-him on an affair in which his exertions would be
-required. Things had come to such a pass now
-in the management of the army and navy, that
-something must be done to satisfy the people;
-and Edmund hoped, that if he put on the appearance
-of a rising young man, he might soon prove
-to be so, and gain honour in proportion to the
-profit he was already taking by anticipation.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It must be something very pressing that was
-wanted of Edmund, if no day would serve but
-that of this solemn fast. It did not occur to the
-Reedes that it must be a day of ennui to Charles
-and his court, at any rate, and that there would
-be an economy of mirth in transacting at such a
-time business which must be done.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>There was a something in Edmund’s countenance
-and gait as he went to worship this morning
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.44'>44</span>which made his sister fear that, during the
-service, he must be thinking more of the expected
-interview at the palace than of her husband’s
-eloquent exposition of how the sins of the government
-were the sins of the nation, and how both
-merited the chastisement which it was the object
-of this day’s penitence to avert. The sermon was
-a bold one; but the nation was growing bold
-under a sense of injury, and of the inconsistency
-of the government. The time was past when
-plain speakers could be sent off to the wars, for
-the purpose of being impoverished, made captive,
-or slain. Dr. Reede knew, and bore in mind,
-the fate of a certain ancestor of his, and returned
-thanks in his heart for such an advance in the
-recognition of social rights as allowed him to be
-as honest as his forefathers, with greater impunity.
-He resolved now to do a bolder thing than
-he had ever yet meditated,—to take advantage of
-Edmund’s going to the palace to endeavour to
-obtain an interview with the King, and intercede
-for the Presbyterian clergy, who must, in a few
-days, vacate their livings, or violate their consciences,
-unless Charles should be pleased to remember,
-before it was too late, that he had passed
-his royal word in their favour. Charles was not
-difficult of access, particularly on a fast-day; the
-experiment was worth trying.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The streets were dull and empty as the brothers
-proceeded to the river-side to take boat for the
-palace. There was a little more bustle by the
-stairs whence they meant to embark, the watermen
-having had abundance of time this day to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.45'>45</span>drink and quarrel. The contention for the present
-God-send of passengers would have run high,
-if Edmund had not known how to put on the
-manner of a personage of great importance; a
-manner which he sincerely thought himself entitled
-to assume, it being a mighty pleasure, as
-he declared to his companion, to feel himself a
-greater man in the world than he could once
-have expected for himself, or any of his friends
-for him. He felt as if he was lord of the Thames,
-while, with his arms folded in his cloak, and his
-beaver nicely poised, he looked abroad, and saw
-not another vessel in motion on the surface of
-the broad river.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This solitude did not last very long. Dr.
-Reede had not finished contemplating the distant
-church of St. Paul’s, which Wren, the artist, had
-been engaged to repair. He was speculating on
-the probable effect of a cupola (a strange form
-described, but not yet witnessed, in England);
-he was wondering what induced Oliver to take
-the choir for horse-barracks, when so many other
-buildings in the neighbourhood might have served
-the purpose better; he was inwardly congratulating
-his accomplished young friend on his noble
-task of restoring,—not only to beauty, that which
-was dilapidated,—but to sanctity that which was
-desecrated. Dr. Reede was thinking of these
-things, rather than listening to the watermen’s
-account of a singular new vessel, called a yacht,
-which the Dutch East India Company had presented
-to the King, when a barge was perceived
-to be coming up the river with so much haste as
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.46'>46</span>to excite Edmund’s attention and stop the boatman’s
-description.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"It is Palmer, bringing news, I am sure,—what
-mighty haste!" observed Edmund, turning
-to order the boatmen to make for the barge.
-"News from sea,—mighty good or bad, I am
-certain. We will catch them on their way."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Palmer, the King’s messenger! He will not
-tell his news to us, Edmund.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“He will, knowing me, and finding where I
-am going.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Palmer did tell his news. His Majesty had
-sustained a signal defeat abroad. The doubt was
-where to find the King or the Duke, there being
-a rumour that they were somewhere on the river.
-Palmer had witnessed a sailing-match between
-two royal boats, some way below Greenwich, but
-he could not make out that any royal personages
-were on board.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Here they are, if they be on the river!”
-exclaimed Edmund, inquiring of the watermen
-if the extraordinary vessel just coming in sight
-was not the yacht they had described. It was,
-and the King must be on board, as no one else
-would dream of taking pleasure on the river this
-day.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund managed so well to put himself in the
-way of being observed while Palmer made his
-inquiries, that both were summoned on board the
-yacht. The clergyman looked so unlike anybody
-that the lords and gentlemen within had commonly
-to do with, that he was not allowed to remain
-behind. They seemed to have some curiosity to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.47'>47</span>see whether a presbyterian parson could eat like
-other men, for they pressed him to sit down to
-table with them,—a table steaming with the good
-meats which had been furnished from the kitchen-boat
-which always followed in the rear of the
-yacht. Dr. Reede simply observed that it was a
-fast day; and could not be made to perceive that
-being on the water and in high company absolved
-him from the observances of the day. Every
-body else seemed of a different opinion; for, not
-content with the usual regale of fine music which
-attended the royal excursions, the lords and
-gentlemen present had made the fiddlers drunk,
-and set them in that state to sing all the foul
-songs with which their professional memories
-could furnish them. Abundance of punch was
-preparing, and there was some Canary of incomparable
-goodness which had been carried to and
-from the Indies. Two of the company were too
-deeply interested in what they were about to care
-for either music or Canary at the moment.
-Charles and the Duke of Ormond were rattling
-the dice-box, having staked 1000<i>l.</i> on the cast.
-It was of some consequence to the King to win
-it, as he had, since morning, lost 23,000<i>l.</i> in bets
-with the Duke of York and others about the
-sailing match which they had carried on while
-the rest of the nation were at church, deprecating
-God’s judgments.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Having lost his 1000<i>l.</i>, he turned gaily to the
-strangers, as if expecting some new amusement
-from them. He made a sign to Edmund (whom
-he knew in virtue of his office), that he would
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.48'>48</span>hold discourse with him presently in private, and
-then asked Dr. Reede what the clergy had discovered
-of the reasons for the heavy judgment
-with which the kingdom was afflicted.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede believed the clergy were more
-anxious to obtain God’s mercy than to account
-for his judgments.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“You are deceived, friend. Our reverend
-dean of Windsor has been preaching that it is our
-supineness in leaving the heads of the regicides
-on their shoulders that has brought these visitations
-on our people. He discoursed largely of
-the matter of the Gibeonites, and exhorted us to
-quick vengeance.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede could not remember any text which
-taught that wreaking vengeance on man was the
-way to propitiate God. He could not suppose
-that this disastrous defeat abroad would have been
-averted by butchering the regicides in celebration
-of the King’s marriage, as had been proposed.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The King had not yet had time to comprehend
-the news of this defeat. On hearing of it, he
-seemed in a transient state of consternation;
-marvelled, as his subjects were wont to do, what
-was to become of the kingdom at this rate; and
-signified his wish to be left with the messenger,
-the Duke of York alone remaining to help him
-to collect all the particulars. The company
-accordingly withdrew to curse the enemy, wonder
-who was killed and who wounded, and straightway
-amuse themselves, the ladies with the dice-box,
-the gentlemen with betting on their play,
-and all with the feats of a juggler of rare accomplishments,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.49'>49</span>who was at present under the
-patronage of one of the King’s favourites.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When Palmer had told his story and was
-dismissed, Edmund was called in, and, at his own
-request, was attended by his brother-in-law,—the
-discreet gentleman of excellent learning, who
-might aid the project to be now discoursed of.
-The King did, at length, look grave. He supposed
-Edmund knew the purpose for which his
-presence was required.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“To receive his Highness the Duke’s pleasure
-respecting the navy accounts that are to be laid
-before Parliament.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“That is my brother’s affair,” replied the
-King. "I desire from you,—your parts having
-been well commended to me,—some discreet
-composure which shall bring our government into
-less disfavour with our people than it hath been
-of late."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund did not doubt that this could easily be
-done.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"It must be done; for in our present straits
-we cannot altogether so do without the people as
-for our ease we could desire. But as for the
-ease,—there is but little of it where the people
-are so changeable. They have forgot the flatteries
-with which they hailed us, some short while
-since, and give us only murmurs instead. It is
-much to be wished that they should be satisfied
-in respect of their duty to us, without which we
-cannot satisfy them in the carrying on of the
-war."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The Duke of York thought that his Majesty
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.50'>50</span>troubled himself needlessly about the way in
-which supplies were to be obtained from the
-people. Money must be had, and speedily, or
-defeat would follow defeat; for never were the
-army and navy in a more wretched condition than
-now. But if his Majesty would only exert his
-prerogative, and levy supplies for his occasions as
-his ancestors had done, all might yet be retrieved
-without the trouble of propitiating the nation.
-The King persisted however in his design of
-making his government popular by means of a
-pamphlet which should flatter the people with the
-notion that they kept their affairs in their own
-hands. It was the shortest way to begin by
-satisfying the people’s minds.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>And how was this to be done? Dr. Reede
-presumed to inquire. Charles, thoroughly discomposed
-by the news he had just heard, in
-addition to a variety of private perplexities,
-declared that nothing could be easier than to set
-forth a true account of the royal poverty. No
-poor gentleman of all the train to whom he was
-in debt could be more completely at his wit’s end
-for money than he. His wardrobeman had this
-morning lamented that the King had no handkerchiefs,
-and only three bands to his neck; and
-how to take up a yard of linen for his <a id='corr50.27'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='Majety’s'>Majesty’s</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_50.27'><ins class='correction'>Majesty’s</ins></a></span>
-service was more than any one knew.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund glanced at his own periwig in the
-opposite mirror, and observed that it would be
-very easy to urge this plea, if such was his
-Majesty’s pleasure.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Od’s fish! man, you would not tell this
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.51'>51</span>beggarly tale in all its particulars! You would
-not set the loyal housewives in London to offer
-me their patronage of shirts and neckbands!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Besides,” said the Duke, “though it might
-be very easy to tell the tale of our poverty, it
-might not be so easy to make men believe it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede here giving an involuntary sign of
-assent, the King would know what was in his
-mind. Dr. Reede, as usual, spoke his thoughts.
-The people, being aware what sums had within a
-few months fallen into the royal treasury, would
-be slow to suppose that their king was in want
-of necessary clothing.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“What! the present to the Queen from the
-Lord Mayor and Aldermen? That was but a
-paltry thousand pounds.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede could not let it be supposed that
-any one expected the King to benefit by gifts to
-his Queen.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Charles looked up hastily to see if this was
-intended as a reproach, for he had indeed appropriated
-every thing that he could lay his hands on
-of what his dutiful subjects had offered to his
-Queen, as a compliment on her marriage. The
-clergyman looked innocent, and the King went
-on,—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And as for her portion,—twenty such portions
-would not furnish forth one war, as the people
-ought to know. And there is my sister’s portion
-to the Prince of Orleans soon to be paid. If the
-people did but take the view we would have them
-take of our affairs at home and abroad, we should
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.52'>52</span>not have to borrow of France, and want courage
-to tell our faithful subjects that we had done so."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund would do his best to give them the
-desired opinions. Dr. Reede thought it a pity
-they could not be by the King’s side,—aye, now
-on board this very boat, to understand and share
-the King’s views, and thus justify the government.
-As a burst of admiration at some of the juggler’s
-tricks made itself heard in the cabin at the very
-moment this was said, the King again looked up
-to see whether satire was intended.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Edmund supposed that one object of his projected
-pamphlet was to communicate gently the
-fact of a secret loan of 200,000 crowns from
-France, designed for the support of the war in
-Portugal, but so immediately swallowed up at
-home that it appeared to have answered no more
-purpose than a loan of so many pebbles, while it
-had subjected the nation to a degradation which
-the people would not have voluntarily incurred.
-This communication was indeed to be a part of
-Edmund’s task; but there was a more important
-one still to be made. It could not now long
-remain a secret that Dunkirk was in the hands of
-the French——</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Dunkirk taken by the French!” exclaimed
-Dr. Reede, not crediting what he heard. “We
-are lost indeed, if the French make aggressions
-like this.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Patience, brother!” whispered Edmund.
-“There is no aggression in the case. The matter
-is arranged by mutual agreement.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.53'>53</span>Dr. Reede looked perplexed, till the Duke
-carelessly told him that Dunkirk had been sold
-to the French King. It was a pity the nation
-must know the fact. They would not like it.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Like it! Dunkirk sold! Whose property was
-Dunkirk?” asked Dr. Reede, reverting to the
-time when Oliver’s acquisition of Dunkirk was
-celebrated as a national triumph.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“We must conduct the bargains of the nation,
-you know,” replied the Duke. “In old times, the
-people desired no better managers of their affairs
-than their kings.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“’Tis a marvel then that they troubled themselves
-to have Parliaments. Pray God the people
-may be content with what they shall receive for a
-conquest which they prized! Some other goodly
-town, I trust, is secured to us; or some profitable
-fishing coast; or some fastness which shall give
-us advantage over the enemy, and spare the blood
-of our soldiers.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It were as well to have retained Dunkirk as
-taken any of these in exchange,” said the King;—a
-proposition which Dr. Reede was far from
-disputing. “Our necessities required another
-fashion of payment.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"In money!—and then the taxes will be somewhat
-lightened. This will be a welcome relief to
-the people, although their leave was not asked.
-There is at least the good of a lifting up of a little
-portion of their burdens."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Not so. We cannot at present spare our
-subjects. This 400,000<i>l.</i> come from Dunkirk is
-all too little for the occasions of our dignity.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.54'>54</span>Our house at Hampton Court is not yet suitably
-arranged. The tapestries are such that the world
-can show nothing nobler, yet the ceilings, however
-finely fretted, are not yet gilt. The canal is
-not perfected, and the Banqueting House in the
-Paradise is yet bare.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The extraordinary wild fowl in St. James’s
-Park did not fly over without cost,” observed the
-Duke.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Some did. The melancholy water-fowl from
-Astracan was bestowed by the Russian Ambassador;
-and certain merchants who came for
-justice brought us the cranes and the milk-white
-raven. But the animals that it was needful to
-put in to make the place answerable to its design,—the
-antelopes, and the Guinea goats, and the
-Arabian sheep, and others,—cost nearly their
-weight of gold. Kings cannot make fair bargains."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“For aught but necessaries,” interposed the
-divine.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Or for necessaries. Windsor is exceedingly
-ragged and ruinous. It will occupy the cost of
-Dunkirk to restore it——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“According to the taste of the ladies of the
-court,” interrupted the Duke. “They will have
-the gallery of horns furnished with beams of the
-rarest elks and antelopes that there be in the
-world. Then the hall and stairs must be bright
-with furniture of arms, in festoons, trophy-like:
-while the chambers have curious and effeminate
-pictures, giving a contrast of softness to that
-which presented only war and horror.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.55'>55</span>“Then there is the demolishing of the palace
-at Greenwich, in order to <a id='corr55.2'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='building'>build</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_55.2'><ins class='correction'>build</ins></a></span> a new one.
-Besides the cost of rearing, we are advised so to
-make a cut as to let in the Thames like a square
-bay, which will be chargeable.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And this is to be ordered by Parliament?
-or are the people to be told that a foreign possession
-of theirs is gone to pay for water-fowl and
-effeminate pictures?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Then there is the army,” continued the King.
-“I have daily news of a lack of hospitals, so that
-our maimed soldiers die of the injuries of the air.
-And this very defeat, with which the city will
-presently be ringing, was caused by the failure
-of ammunition. And not unknowingly; for this
-young clerk had the audacity to forewarn us.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Better have sold the troops and their general
-alive into the hands of the enemy, than send
-them into the field without a sufficiency of
-defence,” cried Dr. Reede.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“So his Majesty thinks,” observed the Duke;
-“and has therefore done wisely in taking a goodly
-sum from the Dutch to delay the sailing of the
-fleet for the east till the season is too far gone for
-action. Nay! is it not a benefit for the King to
-have the money he so much needs, and for the
-lives to be saved which must be otherwise lost
-for want of the due ammunition?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede was too much affected at this gross
-bartering away of the national honour to trust
-himself to speak; Edmund observed that he
-should insist, in his pamphlet, on the exceeding
-expensiveness of war in these days, in comparison
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.56'>56</span>of the times when men went out, each with his
-bow and arrow, or his battle-axe, and his provision
-of food furnished at his own charge.
-Since gunpowder had been used, and engines of
-curious workmanship,—since war had become a
-science, it had grown mightily expensive, and the
-people must pay accordingly, as he should
-speedily set forth.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Setting forth also how the people should
-therefore be the more consulted, before a strife
-is entered upon,” said the clergyman.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Nay,” said the Duke, “I am for making
-the matter short and easy. An expensive army
-we must have; and a troublesome Parliament to
-boot is too much. I am for getting up the army
-into an honourable condition, and letting down
-the Parliament. His Majesty will be persuaded
-thereto in time, when he has had another taste
-of the discontents of his changeable people.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede imagined that such an innovation
-might not be the last change, if the nation should
-have more liking to be represented by a Parliament
-than ruled by an army. But the Duke did
-not conceal his contempt for the new fashion of
-regarding the people and their representatives.
-There was no telling what pass things might
-come to when monarchs were reduced to shifts
-to get money, and the people fancied that they
-had a right to sit in judgment on the use that
-was made of it. He seemed to forget that he
-had had a father, and what had become of him,
-while he set up as an example worthy of all imitation
-the spirited old king, bluff Harry, that put
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.57'>57</span>out his hand and took what he pleased, and
-amused himself with sending grumblers to seek
-adventures north, south, east, or west. If the
-King would take his advice, he would show the
-nation an example of the first duty of a king,—to
-protect his people from violence,—in such a
-fashion as should leave the Parliament little to
-say, even if allowed to meet. Let his Majesty
-bestow all his paternal care on cherishing his
-army.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is true,” said Dr. Reede, “that a ruler’s
-first duty is to give security to his people; and
-in the lowest state in which men herd together,
-the danger is looked for from without; and the
-people who at home gather food, each for himself,
-go out to war, each with his own weapon. Their
-ruler does no more than call them out, and point
-the way, and lead them home. Afterwards, when
-men are settled on lands, and made the property
-of the rich and strong, they go out to war at the
-charge of their lords, and the King has still
-nothing to do but to command them. Every
-man is or may be a warrior; and it is for those
-who furnish forth his blood and sinews, his weapons
-and his food, to decide about the conduct of the
-war. But, at a later time, when men intermingle
-and divide their labour at will, and the time of
-slavery is over, every man is no longer a warrior,
-but some fight for hire, while those who hire them
-stay at their business at home.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Or at their pleasures,” observed the Duke,
-glancing at his brother.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Under favour, no,” replied Dr. Reede. "It
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.58'>58</span>is not, I conceive, the King that hires the army
-to do his pleasure, but the people who hire it for
-their defence, the King having the conduct of the
-enterprises. If the will of the nation be not
-taken as to their defence,—if they should perchance
-think they need no armed defence, and
-lose their passion for conquest, whence must
-come the hire of their servants,—the soldiery?"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“They must help themselves with it,” replied
-the Duke, carelessly.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And if they find a giant at every man’s door,—a
-lion in the path to every one’s field?" said
-the divine.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Thy learning hath perplexed thee, man.
-These are not the days of enchantment, of wild
-beasts, and overtopping men.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Pardon me; there are no days when men
-may not be metamorphosed, if the evil influence
-be but strong enough. There are no days when
-a man’s household gods will not make a giant of
-him for the defence of their shrine. There are
-no days when there are not such roarings in the
-path of violence as to sink the heart of the spoiler
-within him.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Let but the art of war improve like other
-arts,” said the Duke, “and our cannon will easily
-out-roar all your lions, and beat down the giants
-you speak of.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Rather the reverse, I conceive,” said the
-plain-spoken clergyman. “The expense of improved
-war is aggravated, not only in the outfit,
-but in the destruction occasioned. The soldier
-is a destructive labourer, and, as such, will not
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.59'>59</span>be overlong tolerated by an impoverished nation,
-whose consent to strife is the more necessary the
-more chargeable such strife becomes to them.
-Furthermore, men even now look upon blood as
-something more precious than water, and upon
-human souls as somewhat of a higher nature than
-the fiery bubbles that our newly-wise chemists
-send up into the ether, to wander whither no eye
-can follow them. Our cannon now knock down
-a file where before a battle-axe could cleave but a
-single skull. Men begin already to tremble over
-their child’s play of human life; and if the day
-comes when some mighty engine shall be prepared
-to blow to atoms half an army, there may
-be found a multitude of stout hearts to face it;
-but where is he who will be brave enough to fire
-the touch-hole, even for the sure glory of being
-God’s arch enemy?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Is this brother of thine seeking a patent for
-some new device of war-engines?” inquired Charles
-of the divine. “Methinks your discourse seems
-like a preface to such a proposal. Would it were
-so! for patents aid the exchequer.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Would it were so!” said the Duke, “for a
-king might follow his own will with such an
-engine in his hand.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Would it were so!” said Dr. Reede, “for
-then would the last days of war be come, and
-Satan would find much of his occupation gone.
-Edmund, if thou wilt invent such an engine as
-may mow down a host at a blow, I will promise
-thee a triumph on that battle-field, and the intercession
-of every church in Christendom. Such
-a deed shall one day be done. War shall one
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.60'>60</span>day be ended; but not by you, Edmund. Men
-must enact the wild beast yet a few centuries
-longer, to furnish forth a barbarous show to their
-rulers, till men shall call instead for a long age
-of fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Meantime,” said Edmund, “they call impertinently
-for certain accounts of the charges
-of our wars which his Majesty is over gracious in
-permitting them to demand.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Do they think so?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“They cannot but see,” said the Duke, “by
-the way his Majesty gave his speech to the Parliament,
-that he desires no meddling from them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And how did I speak?” asked the King.
-“Did I not assure the Commons that I would
-not have asked for their subsidies if I had not had
-need; and that through no extravagance of my
-own, but the disorder of the times? And is not
-that much to say when I am daily told by my
-gentlemen of the palace, and others who know
-better still, that my will is above all privilege of
-Parliament or city, and that I have no need to
-account to any at all? How did I speak?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"Only as if your wits were with your queen,
-or some other lady, while the words of your
-speech lay under your eye. Some words your
-Commons must needs remember, from the many
-times they were said over; but further——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Pshaw!” cried the King, vexed at the description
-he had himself asked for. “This learned
-divine knows not what our Parliament is made
-of. There are but two seamen and about twenty
-merchants, and the rest have no scruple in coming
-drunk to the house, and making a mockery
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.61'>61</span>of the country people when they are sober. How
-matters it how I give my speech to them?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“They are indeed not the people,” observed
-Reede; "and I forewarn your Majesty that their
-consent is not the consent of the people; and
-that however they may clap the hands at your
-Majesty’s enterprises and private sales, the people
-will not be the less employed in looking back
-upon Oliver——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“And forward to me?” inquired the Duke,
-laughing.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"And forward to the time when the proud
-father shall not be liable to see his only son return
-barefoot and tattered from a war where he
-has spilled his blood; or a daughter made the
-victim, first of violence, and then of mockery,
-through the example of the King’s court; and
-no justice to be had but by him who brings the
-heaviest bribe:—forward to the time when drunken
-cavaliers shall be thought unfitting representatives
-of a hungering people; and when the money
-which is raised by the toils of the nation shall be
-spent for the benefit of the nation; when men
-shall inquire how Rome fell, and why France is
-falling; and shall find that decay ensues when
-that which is a trust is still pertinaciously used
-as prerogative, and when the profusion in high
-places is answerable to the destitution below!"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Nay; I am sure there is destitution in high
-places,” cried the King, “and luxury in the
-lower. I see not a few ladies outshining my
-Queen in gallantry of jewels; and if you like to
-look in at certain low houses that I could tell you
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.62'>62</span>of, you will see what vast heaps of gold are squandered
-in deep and most prodigious gaming.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“True; and therein is found the excuse of the
-court; that whenever the nation is over-given to
-luxury, the court is prodigious in its extravagance.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Hold, man!” cried the King. “Wouldst
-thou be pilloried for a libel?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Such is too common a sight to draw due
-regard,” coolly replied the divine. “Libels are
-in some sort the primers of the ignorant multitude,
-scornfully despised for their ignorance.
-There are not means wherewith to give the
-people letters in an orderly way; so that they gape
-after libels first, and then they gape to see them
-burned by the hangman; and learn one sort of
-hardness by flinging stones at a pilloried wretch,
-and another sort of hardness by watching the
-faces of traitors who pray confidently on the scaffold,
-and look cheerfully about them on the hangman’s
-hellish instruments; and all this hardness,
-which may chance to peril your Majesty, is not
-always mollified by such soft things as they may
-witness at the theatres which profanely give and
-take from the licentious times. If the people
-would become wise, such is the instruction that
-awaits them.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Methinks you will provoke us to let the people
-see how cheerfully you would look on certain
-things that honest gazers round a scaffold shrink
-from beholding. It were better for you to pray
-for me from your pulpit, like a true subject of
-Christ and your King.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.63'>63</span>“Hitherto I have done so; but it pleases your
-Majesty that from my pulpit I should pray no
-longer. Alas!” cried he, casting a glance through
-the window as he perceived that the vessel drew
-to land, “alas! what a raging fire! And
-another! And a third!”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“The bonfires for the victory,” quietly observed
-Edmund.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede was forbidden to throw any doubts
-abroad on the English having gained a splendid
-victory. The King had ordered these bonfires
-at the close of the fast day. They were lighted,
-it appeared, somewhat prematurely, as the sun
-yet glittered along the Thames; but this only
-showed the impatient joy of the people. The
-church bells were evidently preparing to ring
-merry peals as soon as the last hour of humiliation
-should have expired. The King’s word had
-gone forth. It suited his purposes to gain a victory
-just now; and a victory he was determined
-it should be, to the last moment. When the
-people should discover the cheat, the favours occasioned
-by it would be past recall. They could
-only do what they had done before,—go home
-and be angry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>This was all that now remained for Dr. Reede,
-the King’s landing being waited for by a throng
-of persons whose converse had little affinity with
-wise counsel. Certain courtiers, deplorably <i>ennuyés</i>
-by the king’s absence, sauntered about the
-gardens, and looked abroad upon the river, in
-hopes of his approach. An importation of French
-coxcombs from Dunkirk, in fantastical habits, was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.64'>64</span>already here to offend the eyes of the insulted
-English people. It was not till Edmund (who
-was not dismissed with Dr. Reede) began to exhibit
-at home the confidence with which he had
-been treated, that Dr. Reede and his lady became
-aware how much these accomplished cadets could
-teach Charles on the part of their own extravagant
-master. Louis the Fourteenth knew of
-more ways of raising money than even Charles.
-He had taken to creating offices for sale, for
-which the court ladies amused themselves in
-making names. The pastime of divining their object
-and utility was left to the people who paid for
-them. They read, or were told,—and it made a
-very funny riddle,—that the inspector of fresh-butter
-had kissed hands on his appointment;
-that the ordainer of faggots had had the honour
-of dining with his Majesty; and that some mighty
-and wealthy personage had been honoured with
-the office of licenser of barber-wig-makers.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The example of Louis in this and other matters
-was too good not to be followed by one in circumstances
-of equal necessity. Edmund was not
-by any means to delay the “discreet composure”
-by which the minds of the people were to be
-propitiated and satisfied. He was to laud to
-the utmost the Duke’s conduct of naval affairs,—(whose
-credit rested on the ability of his
-complaisant Clerk of the Acts.) He was to
-falsify the navy accounts as much as could be
-ventured, exaggerating the expenses and extenuating
-the receipts, while he made the very best of
-the results. He was to take for granted the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.65'>65</span>willingness of a grateful people to support the
-dignity of the sovereign, while he insinuated
-threats of the establishment of a civil list,—(a
-thing at that time unknown.) All this was to be
-done not the less for room being required for
-eloquence about the sale of Dunkirk, and the
-loan from France, and the bribe from Holland;—monuments
-of kingly wisdom all, and of
-paternal solicitude to spare the pockets of the
-people. All this was to be done not the less for
-the bright idea which had occurred to some
-courtier’s mind that the making of a few new
-ambassadors might bring money to his Majesty’s
-hands. There was more than one man about the
-court who was very willing to accept of the dignity
-of such an office, and to pay to the power that
-appointed him a certain fair proportion of the
-salary which the people must provide. One
-gentleman was accordingly sent to Spain, to
-amuse himself in reading Calderon, and another
-to some eastern place where he might sit on
-cushions, and smoke at the expense of the people
-of England, and to the private profit of their
-monarch. Amidst all these clever arrangements,
-nothing was done for the <i>security</i> or the <i>advancement</i>
-of the community. No new measures
-of <i>defence</i>; no better administration of <i>justice</i>;
-no advantageous <i>public works</i>, no apparatus of
-<i>education</i>, were originated; and, as for the
-<i>dignity of the sovereign</i>, that was a matter past
-hope. But by means of the treacherous sale of
-the nation’s property and of public offices, by
-bribes, by falsification of the public accounts,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.66'>66</span>breaches of royal credit were for the present
-stopped, and the day of reckoning deferred. If
-the Duke of York could have foreseen from whom
-and at what time this reckoning would be demanded,
-he might have been less acute in his
-suggestions, and less bold in his advice; and
-both he and the King might have employed
-to less infamous purpose this day of solemn fast
-and deprecation of God’s judgments. But, however
-true might be Dr. Reede’s doctrine that the
-sins of government are the sins of the nation, it
-happened in this case, as in a multitude of others,
-that the accessaries to the crime offered the
-atonement, while the principals made sport of
-both crime and atonement.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The false report about the late engagement
-had gained ground sufficiently to answer the
-temporary purposes of those who spread it. As
-Dr. Reede took his way homewards, bonfires
-gleamed reflected in the waters of the river, and
-exhibited to advantage the picturesque fronts of
-the wooden houses in the narrow streets, and
-sent trains of sparks up into the darkening sky,
-and illuminated the steeples that in a few more
-seasons were to fall into the surging mass of a
-more awful conflagration. On reaching the
-comfortable dwelling which he expected to be
-soon compelled to quit, he gave himself up, first
-to humiliation on account of the guilt against
-which he had in vain remonstrated, and then to
-addressing to the King a strong written appeal
-on behalf of the conscientious presbyterian clergy,
-who had, on the faith of the royal word, believed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.67'>67</span>themselves safe from such temptations to violate
-their consciences as they were now suffering
-under.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>On a certain Saturday of the same month
-might be seen the most magnificent triumph that
-ever floated on the Thames. It far exceeded the
-Venetian pageantry on occasion of espousing the
-Adriatic. The city of London was entertaining
-the King and Queen; and the King was not at
-all sorry that the people were at the same time
-entertained, while he was making up his mind
-whether, on dissolving the Parliament, he should
-call another which would obligingly give him the
-dean and chapter lands, or whether he should
-let it be seen, according to the opinion of his
-brother, that there was no need of any more
-parliaments. As he sat beside his Queen, in an
-antique-shaped vessel, under a canopy of cloth of
-gold, supported by Corinthian pillars, wreathed
-with flowers, festoons, and garlands, he meditated
-on the comfort that would accrue, on the one
-hand, from all his debts being paid out of these
-church lands, and, on the other, from such an
-entire freedom from responsibility as he should
-enjoy when there should be no more speeches to
-make to his Commons, and no more remonstrances
-to hear from them, grounded on dismal tales of
-the distresses of his people which he had rather
-not hear. The thrones and triumphal arches
-might do for the corporation of London to amuse
-itself with, and for the little boys and girls on
-either side of the river to stare at and admire:
-but it was in somewhat too infantine a taste to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.68'>68</span>please the majority of the gazers otherwise than
-as a revival of antique amusements. The most
-idly luxurious about the court preferred entertainments
-which had a little more meaning in them,—dramatic
-spectacles, pictures, music, and fine
-buildings and gardens. War is also a favourite
-excitement in the middle age of refinement; and
-the best part of this day’s entertainments, next
-to the music, was the peals of ordnance both from
-the vessels and the shore, which might prettily
-remind the gallants, amidst their mirth and their
-soft flirtations, of the cannonading that was going
-on over the sea. Within a small section of the
-city of London, many degrees of mirth might be
-found this day.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>In the royal barge, the Queen cast her “languishing
-and excellent eyes” over the pageant
-before her, and returned the salutations of the
-citizens who made obeisances in passing, and
-now and then exchanged a few words with her
-Portuguese maids of honour, the King being too
-thoughtful to attend to her;—altogether not very
-merry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>In the barge immediately following, certain of
-the King’s favourites made sport of the Queen’s
-foretop,—turned aside very strangely,—of the
-monstrous fardingales and olivada complexions
-and unagreeable voices of her Portuguese ladies,—and
-of the old knight, her friend, whose bald pate
-was covered by a huge lock of hair, bound on by
-a thread, very oddly. The King’s gravity also
-made a good joke; and there was an amusing
-incident of a boat being upset, which furnished
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.69'>69</span>laughter for a full half hour. A family of Presbyterians,
-turned out of a living because the King
-had broken his word, were removing their chattels
-to some poor place on the other side of the river,
-and had unawares got their boat entangled in the
-procession, and were run down by a royal barge.
-It was truly laughable to see first the divine, and
-then his pretty daughters, with their dripping long
-hair, picked up from the water, while all their
-little wealth went to the bottom: and yet more
-so to witness how, when the King, of his bounty,
-threw gold to the sufferers, the clergyman tossed
-it back so vehemently that it would have struck
-the Duke of York on the temple, if he had not
-dexterously contrived to receive it on the crown
-of his periwig. It was a charming adventure to
-the King’s favourites;—very merry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>In the mansions by the river side, certain
-gentlemen from the country were settling themselves,
-in preparation for taking office under the
-government. They and their fathers had been
-out of habits of business for fourscore years, and
-were wholly incapable of it, and knew themselves
-to be so; the best having given themselves to
-rural employments, and others to debauchery;
-but, as all men were now declared incapable of
-employment who had served against the King,
-and as these cavaliers knew that their chief business
-was to humour his Majesty, they made
-themselves easy about their responsibilities, looked
-after their tapestries, plate, and pictures, talked
-of the toils and cares of office, and were—very
-merry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.70'>70</span>In the narrow streets in their neighbourhood
-might be hourly seen certain of the King’s
-soldiers, belted and armed, cursing, swearing, and
-stealing; running into public-houses to drink,
-and into private ones to carry off whatever they
-had a mind to; leaving the injured proprietors
-disposed to reflect upon Oliver, and to commend
-him,—what brave things he did, and how safe a
-place a man’s own house was in his time, and
-how he made the neighbour princes fear him;
-while now, a prince that came in with all the
-love, and prayers, and good-liking of his people,
-who had given greater signs of loyalty and willingness
-to serve him with their estates than ever
-was done by any people, could get nothing but
-contempt abroad, and discontent at home; and
-had indeed lost all so soon, that it was a miracle
-how any one could devise to lose so much in so
-little time. These housekeepers, made sage by
-circumstance, looked and spoke with something
-very little like mirth. Those who had given occasion
-to such thoughts were, meantime,—very
-merry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was not to these merry men, wise people
-thought, that the King must look for help in the
-day of war, but to the soldiers of the republican
-army, who had been declared by act of parliament
-for evermore incapable of serving the kingdom.
-But where were these men to be found,
-if wanted? Not one could be met with begging
-in the streets to tell how his comrades might be
-reached. One captain in the old parliament
-army was turned shoemaker, and another a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.71'>71</span>baker. This lieutenant was now a haberdasher;
-that a brewer. Of the common soldiers, some
-were porters, and others mechanics in their
-aprons, and husbandmen in their frocks, and
-all as quiet and laborious as if war had never
-been their occupation. The spirits of these men
-had been trained in contentment with God’s
-providences; and though, as they sat at the loom
-and the last, they had many discontented thoughts
-of man’s providences, it was clear to observers
-among the King’s own servants that he was a
-thousand times safer from any evil meant by
-them than from his own unsatisfied and insatiable
-cavaliers. While the staid artizans who had
-served under Cromwell looked out upon the river
-as the procession passed, they dropped a few
-words in their families about the snares of the
-Evil One, and were—not very merry.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Within hearing of the ordnance in which the
-young gallants of the court delighted was an
-hospital, meagrely supplied with the comforts
-which its inmates required, where languished, in
-a crowded space, many of the soldiers and sailors
-who had been set up to be fired at while it was
-known in high quarters that there was such a
-deficiency of ammunition as must deprive the
-poor fellows of the power of effectual self-defence.
-This fact had become known, and it had sunk
-deep into the souls of the brave fellows who,
-maimed, feverish, and heart-sore,—in pain for
-want of the proper means of cure, and half suffocated
-from the number of their fellow-sufferers,
-listened with many a low-breathed curse to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.72'>72</span>peals of ordnance that shook their crazy place of
-refuge, and forswore mirth and allegiance together.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Within hearing of the shouts and of a faint
-occasional breath of music from the royal band,
-were certain of the two thousand clergy, who
-were to resign their livings the next morning,
-and whose families were taking advantage of the
-neighbourhood being deserted for the day to remove
-their furniture, and betake themselves to
-whatever place they might have found wherein
-the righteous could lay his head. Dr. Reede was
-one of these. He had been toiling all day with
-his wife, demolishing the <i>tout ensemble</i> of comfort
-which had been formed under her management.
-He was now, while she was engaged with
-her infants, sitting alone in his study for the last
-time. He was doing nothing; for his business
-in this place was closed. He let his eye be
-amused by the quick flickering in the breeze of
-the short, shining grass of his little court, which
-stretched up to his window. The dark formal
-shrubs, planted within the paling by his own
-hand, seemed to nod to him as the wind passed
-over their heads. The summer flowers in the
-lozenge-shaped parterres which answered to each
-other, danced and kissed unblamed beneath the
-Rev. Doctor’s gaze. All looked as if Nature’s
-heart were merry, however sad might be those of
-her thoughtful children. The Doctor stepped
-out upon the grass. There was yet more for
-him to do there. He had, with his own hands,
-mowed the plat, and clipped the borders;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.73'>73</span>and the little hands of the elder of his two children
-had helped to pluck out the very few weeds
-that had sprung up. But the weather had been
-warm and dry, and, in order to leave the place
-in the beauty desired by its departing tenant, it
-was necessary to water the flower-court. It was
-not a very inspiriting thing to glance at doors
-and windows standing wide, displaying the nakedness
-of an empty dwelling within: so the Doctor
-hastened to the well to fill his bucket. Mrs.
-Reede heard the jingle of the chain, and showed
-herself at an upper window, while the child that
-could walk made her way down stairs with all
-speed to help papa, and wonder at her own round
-little face in the full bucket. Mrs. Reede was
-glad that her husband had turned out of his
-study, though she could not bring herself to
-sympathize in his anxiety to leave all in a state
-of the greatest practicable beauty. If a gale had
-torn up the shrubs, or the hot sun of this summer
-day had parched the grass and withered the
-flowers, she did not think she could have been
-sorry. But it was very well that her husband
-had left his study open for the further operations
-necessary there. This room had remained the
-very last in its entireness. The time was now
-come when she must have asked her husband to
-quit his chair and desk, and let his books be dislodged.
-She would make haste to complete the
-work of spoliation, and she hoped he would make
-a long task of watering the flower-court.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He was not likely to do that when he had
-once perceived that she and one of her damsels
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.74'>74</span>were lifting heavy loads of books, while another
-was taking care of the baby. He hastened to
-give their final draught to his favourite carnations,
-placed a chair for Esther on the grass just outside
-the window, where she might sit with the infant,
-and, while resting herself, talk to him as he
-finished her laborious task.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede did not remember to have ever
-started so incessantly at the sound of guns;
-and the air-music of the window-harp that she
-had seen in the pavilions of great men’s gardens
-had never come so mournfully over her spirit as
-the snatches of harmony that the wind now
-brought from the river to make her infant hold
-up his tiny finger while his sister said “hark!”
-She was, for once, nervous. It might be seen in
-her flushed face and her startled movements; and
-the poor baby felt it in the absence of the usual
-ease with which he was held and played with. A
-sharp sudden cry from him called the attention of
-the doctor from his task. In a moment, mamma’s
-grief was more tumultuous than the infant’s.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“O, my child! my child! I have hurt my
-child! my own little baby!” cried she, weeping
-bitterly, and of course redoubling the panic of the
-little one.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“My dear love,” said her husband, trying to
-prove to her that the baby had only been frightened
-by a jerk; “my dear love, you alarm yourself
-much more than the child. See!” and he
-held up in the evening sunlight the brass plate
-on which his study lamp stood. Its glittering
-at once arrested the infant’s terrors: but not so
-soon could the tears of the mother be stopped.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.75'>75</span>“My love, there must be some deeper cause
-than this trifling accident,” said he, sitting down
-on the low window sill beside her chair. “Is it
-that you have pent up your grief all day, and that
-it will have way?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede had a long train of sad thoughts
-to disclose, in the intervals of her efforts to compose
-herself. The children, she said, amused
-themselves as if nothing was the matter; while
-who could tell what they might think hereafter of
-being thus removed from a fair and honourable
-home, and carried where—O, there was no
-telling what lot might await them! If everybody
-had thought the sacrifice a right one, she
-could have gone through it without any regret:
-but some of her husband’s oldest friends thought
-him wrong——</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Towards God, or towards you, my love?”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"O, towards these children, I suppose. They
-dare not think that you would do anything wrong
-towards me. I am sure I only think of you
-first, and then of the children. How you have
-preached here, with the souls of your people in
-your hand, to mould them as you would! and
-now, you must go where your gift and your office
-will be nothing; and you will be only like any
-other man. And, as for the children, we do not
-know——"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“When the bird leads forth her brood from
-their warm nest, because springes are set round
-about them, does she know what shall befall
-them? There may be hawks abroad, or a
-sharp wind that may be too strong for their scarce-plumed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.76'>76</span>wings. Or they may gather boldness
-from their early flight, and wave in the sunshine
-on a high bough, and pour out there a grateful
-morn and even song from season to season. The
-parent bird knows not: but she must needs take
-them from among the springes, however soft may
-be the nest, and cool the mossy tree. We know
-more than this parent bird; even that no sparrow
-falleth unheeded to the ground.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede’s tears began to flow again as another
-faint breath of music reached her.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Is it that you will be more composed when
-the sounds of mirth, to us unseasonable, have
-passed away?” asked Dr. Reede, smiling.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It does seem hard that our spoilers should
-be making merry while we are going forth we
-know not whither,” said the wife.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“How would it advantage the mother bird
-that the fowlers should lie close while she plumes
-her pinions to be gone? Will she stoop in her
-flight for all their mirth? As for us, music may
-be to us a rare treat henceforth. Let our ears
-be pleased with it, whencesoever it may come.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>And he made the children hearken, till they
-clapped their little hands, and their mother once
-more smiled. Her husband then said to her,</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“If this mirth be ungodly, there is no reason
-why we should be more scandalized at it than
-on any other day, only because we ourselves are
-not merry. If it be innocent, we should thank
-God that others are happier than ourselves. Yet
-I am not otherwise than happy in the inward
-spirit. I shall never repent this day.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.77'>77</span>"They say you will, when——But it is not as
-if we stood alone. It is said that there will be a
-large number of the separated."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Thank God! not for the companionship to
-ourselves, so much as for the profit to his righteousness.
-It will be much to meet here and
-there eyes that tell back one’s own story, and to
-clasp hands that are undefiled by the world’s
-lucre. But it is more to know that God’s truth
-is so hymned by some thousand tongues this
-night, that the echo shall last till weak voices like
-ours shall be wanted no more.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Let us go,” cried Mrs. Reede, dispersing her
-last tears, and lifting up one child while the
-other remained in her husband’s arms. He took
-advantage of her season of strength, and resolved
-to convey her at once to the humble lodging
-which was to be their present abode, and to
-return himself to see that all was done. He detained
-her only to join him in a brief thanksgiving
-for the happiness they had enjoyed there since
-their marriage day, and to beseech a blessing on
-him who was to succeed to the dwelling and to
-the pastoral office. Courageous as was Mrs.
-Reede’s present mood, she was still at the mercy
-of trifles. The little girl’s kitten would not bear
-them company. It had been removed twice, and
-had returned, and now was not to be found. It
-had hidden itself in some corner whence it would
-come out when they were gone; and the child
-departed in a very unchristian state of distress.
-Her mamma found that both she and her child had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.78'>78</span>yet to learn Dr. Reede’s method of not fretting
-because of evil-doers.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Though he could not trouble himself with personal
-resentments, no man could more strenuously
-rebuke and expose guilt,—especially guilt
-in high places, which is so much worse than other
-guilt, in as far as it desolates a wider region of
-human happiness. In his farewell discourse,
-the next day, he urged some considerations on
-behalf of society far more eagerly than he ever
-asked anything for himself.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“It is no new thing,” said he, "for men to be
-required to set their hand to that which they believe
-not, or to affirm that they believe that which they
-understand no more in the expression than in the
-essence. It is no new thing for a mistake to be
-made as to such protestation, so that if a man say
-he believes that a sown field will bear corn,
-though he knows not the manner of its sprouting
-nor the order of its ripening, he shall be also
-required to believe a proposition in an unknown
-tongue, whereof he knows not even what it is
-that should be proposed. It is no new thing
-that men should start at such a requisition, as a
-sound-witted man would start from the shows
-and babble of the magician; or as a modest wise
-man would shrink from appointing the way to a
-wandering comet, lest he should unawares bring
-the orderly heavens to a mighty wreck. It is no
-new thing for the searchers of God’s ways to
-respect his everlasting laws more than man’s presumptuous
-bidding: or for Him whom they serve
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.79'>79</span>so to change the face of things to them as to make
-his extremest yoke easy, and his heaviest burden
-light:—to cast a shade over what must be foregone,—whether
-it be life itself, or only the goodly
-things in which maybe too much of our life hath
-been found,—or to beam a light from his own
-highest heaven on the wilderness-path, which
-may seem horrid to those who are not to tread it,
-but passable enough to such as must needs take
-this way to their everlasting home. These
-things being not new, are a sign to us recusants
-of this day not to be in anywise astonished or
-dismayed, and also not to allow a dwelling upon
-the part we have taken, as if it were any mighty
-merit to trust to God’s providence, which waits
-only to be trusted, or required any marvellous
-faith to commit ourselves to Christ’s word, which,
-if it be Christ’s, must stand when the heavens
-themselves shall be dissolved. It behoves us rather
-to look to things less clear than these, and more
-important than the putting forth of a few of Christ’s
-meanest shepherds from their folds;—for whom
-the chief Shepherd may perhaps find other occasions;
-and, if not, they may be well content to
-lie down among the sheep, remembering that he
-once had not where to lay his head. The true
-occasion of this day is not to break one another’s
-hearts with griefs and tears, (which may but puff
-out or quench the acceptable fire of the altar;)
-but so to fan the new-kindled flame as that it may
-seize and consume whatsoever of foul and desecrating
-shows most hideous in its light. Is it
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.80'>80</span>not plain that powers whose use is ushered in
-with prayers, and alternated with the response of
-God’s most holy name,—the powers of government,—are
-used to ensnare those who open their
-doors to whatsoever cometh in that name? It
-is well that governments should be thus sanctified
-to the ears and eyes of the governed; for, if
-there be a commission more certainly given
-straight from the hand of God than another it is
-that of a ruler of men. Who but he opens the
-eyes of the blind, and unstops the ears of the
-deaf, and sets the lame on his feet, and strengthens
-together the drooping heart and the feeble
-knees,—by setting before the one the radiant
-frame of society in all its fitness, and waking up
-for another the voices of human companionship,
-and compacting the powers of the weak with
-those of the strong, and cheering all by warding
-off injury from without, and making restraint
-easy where perchance it may gall any of those
-who are within? Sacred is the power of the
-ruler as a trust; but if it be used as a property,
-where is its sanctity? If the steward puts out
-the eyes that follow him too closely, and ties the
-tongue that importunes, and breaks the limbs of
-the strong man in sport, so as to leave him an
-impotent beggar in the porch of the mansion,—do
-we not know from the Scripture what shall be
-the fate of that steward? As it is with a single
-ruler, so shall it be with a company of rulers,—with
-a government which regards the people only
-as the something on which itself must stand,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.81'>81</span>which takes bread from the children to give it to
-dogs; which sells God’s gifts to them that are
-without, at the risk of such utter blindness that
-they shall weary themselves to find the door out
-of their perplexities and terrors. What governments
-there be that commit the double sin of
-lording it over consciences, (which are God’s
-heritage,) and of ruling for their own low pleasures
-instead of the right living and moving of
-the people, judge ye. If there be any which mismanage
-its defence, and deny or pervert justice,
-and refuse public works, and make the church a
-scandal, and the court a spectacle for angels to weep
-over and devils to resort to, and, instead of speeding
-the people’s freedom with the wings of knowledge,
-shut them into the little cells of ancient
-men’s wits, it is time that such should know why
-God hath made them stewards, and should be
-alarmed for the coming of their Master. It is
-not for the men and maid-servants to wrest his
-staff from his hands, or to refuse his reasonable
-bidding, or to forsake, the one his plough, and
-the other his mill, and the maidens to spread the
-table: but it is for any one to give loud warning
-that the Master of the house will surely demand
-an account of the welfare of his servants.
-Such a warning do I give; and such is the
-warning spoken by the many mourners of this day,
-who, because they honour the kingly office as
-the holiest place of the fair temple of society,
-and kingly agents as the appointed priesthood,
-can the less bear to see the nation outraged as
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.82'>82</span>if there were no avenging angel of Jehovah
-flying abroad; and comfortless in their miseries,
-as if Jehovah himself were not in the midst of
-them."</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was well that Dr. Reede felt that he could
-bear the pillory. He was pilloried.</p>
-
-<hr class='c011'>
-
-<div>
- <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.83'>83</span>
- <h3 id='ch2.3' class='c015'>THIRD AGE.</h3>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c013'>History is silent as to the methods by which
-men were enabled to endure the tedium of journeys
-by the heavy coaches of the olden time.
-The absence of all notion of travelling faster
-might, indeed, be no inconsiderable aid,—an aid
-of which travellers are at present, for the most
-part, deprived; since the mail-coach passenger,
-the envy of the poor tenant of the carrier’s cart,
-feels envy, in his turn, of the privileged beings
-who shoot along the northern rail-road; while
-they, perhaps, are sighing for the time when they
-shall be able to breakfast at one extremity of the
-kingdom, and dine at the other. When once the
-idea of not going fast enough enters a traveller’s
-mind, <i>ennui</i> is pretty sure to follow; and it may
-be to this circumstance that the patience of our
-forefathers, under their long incarceration on the
-road, was owing—if patience they had. Now, a
-traveller who is too much used to journeying to
-be amused, as a child is, by the mere process of
-travelling, is dismayed alike if there be a full
-number of passengers, and if there be none but
-himself. In the first case, there is danger of
-delay from the variety of deposits of persons and
-goods; and in the second, there is an equal
-danger of delay from the coachman having all
-his own way, and the certainty, besides, of the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.84'>84</span>absence of all opportunity of shaking off the
-dulness of his own society.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid, a sociable young barrister, who had
-never found himself at a loss on a journey, was
-left desolate one day last summer when he least
-expected it. He had taken his wife and child
-down to the south, in order to establish them by
-the sea-side for a few weeks; and he was now
-travelling up to town by the stage-coach, in very
-amusing company, as he thought, for the first
-stage, but presently in solitude. Supposing that
-his companions were going all the way, he took
-his time about making the most of them, and
-lost the opportunity. There was a sensible
-farmer, who pointed right and left to the sheep
-on the downs—green downs—retiring in long
-sweeps from the road; and he had much to relate
-of the methods of cultivation which had been
-pursued here, there, and everywhere,—with the
-Barn Field, and Rick Mead, and Pond-side Field,
-and Brook Hollow, and many other pretty places
-that he indicated. He had also stores of information
-on the farmer’s favourite subject of complaint—the
-state of the poor. He could give
-the history of all the well-meant attempts of my
-lord this, and my lady that, and colonel the
-other, to make employment, and institute prizes
-of almshouses, and induce their neighbours to
-lay out more on patches of land than less helpless
-folks would think it worth while to bestow.
-Meantime, a smart young lady in the opposite
-corner was telling her widowed chaperon why
-she could not abide the country, and would not
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.85'>85</span>be tempted to leave dear London any more,—namely,
-that the country was chalky, and whitened
-the hems of all her petticoats. The widow,
-in return, assured the unbelieving girl that the
-country was not chalky all over the world, and
-that she had actually seen, with her own eyes,
-the junction of a white, a red, and a black road,—very
-convenient, as one might choose one’s
-walk by the colour of one’s gown. The widow
-at the same time let fall her wish to have the
-charge—merely for the sake of pleasant occupation—of
-the household of a widower, to whose
-daughters she could teach everything desirable;
-especially if they were intended to look after
-dairy and poultry-yard, and such things.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“Thank’ee, ma’am,” said the farmer, as she
-looked full at him; “my daughters are some of
-them grown up; and they have got on without
-much teaching since their mother died.”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid promised himself to gain more information
-about the widow’s estimate of her own
-capabilities; but she and her charge were not
-yet going to “dear London.” They got out at
-the first country town, just after the farmer had
-thrust himself half out of the window to stop
-the coach, flung himself on the stout horse that
-was waiting for him at the entrance of a green
-lane, and trotted off, with a prodigious exertion
-of knee, elbow, and coat-flap.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid had soon done thinking of the widow,
-and of the damsel who had displayed so intimate
-a knowledge of rural life. Pauperism lasted
-longer; but this was only another version of a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.86'>86</span>dismal story with which he was already too well
-acquainted. He was glad to think of something
-else. He found that he got most sun by riding
-backward, and most wind by riding forward, and
-made his election in favour of the latter. He
-discovered, after a momentary doubt, that his
-umbrella was safe, and that there was no occasion
-to trouble his knees any longer with his
-great-coat. He perceived that the coach had
-been new-lined, and he thought the lace suited
-the lining uncommonly well. He wondered whether
-the people would be as confoundedly long in
-changing horses at every stage as they had been
-at the first. It would be very provoking to arrive
-in town too late for dinner at G——’s. Ah! the
-women by the road-side found it a fine day for
-drying the linen they had washed. How it blew
-about, flapping, with a noise like mill-sails; big-sleeved
-pinafores and dancing stockings! This
-was a pretty country to live in: the gentlemen’s
-houses were sufficiently sheltered, and the cottages
-had neat orchards behind them; and one
-would think pains had been taken with the green
-lanes—just in the medium as they were between
-rankness and bareness. What an advantage
-roads among little hills have in the clear stream
-under the hedge,—a stream like this, dimpling
-and oozing, now over pebbles, and now among
-weeds! That hedge would make a delicious foreground
-for a picture,—the earth being washed
-away from the twisted roots, and they covered
-with brown moss, with still a cowslip here and
-there nodding to itself in the water as the wind
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.87'>87</span>passed by. By the way, that bit of foreground
-might be kept in mind for his next paper for the
-“New Monthly.” It would be easy to give his
-subject a turn that would allow that hedge and
-its cowslip to be brought in. What had not
-Victor Hugo made of a yellow flower, in a scene
-to which nobody who had read it would need a
-second reference! But this well, to the left, was
-even better than the hedge: it must have been
-described already; for it looked as if put there
-for the purpose. What a damp nook in the
-hedge it stood in, with three old yews above it,
-and tufts of long grass to fringe the place!
-What a well-used chain and ladle, and what
-merry, mischievous children, pushing one another
-into the muddy pool where the drippings
-fell, and splashing each other, under pretence of
-drinking! He was afraid of losing the impression
-of this place, so much dusty road as he had
-to pass through, and so many new objects to
-meet before he could sit down to write; unless,
-indeed, he did it now. Why should not he write
-his paper now? It was a good idea—a capital
-thought!</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Three backs of letters and a pencil were presently
-found, and a flat parcel in one of the window-pockets,
-which served as a desk, when the
-feet were properly planted on the opposite seat.
-The lines were none of the straightest, at first;
-and the dots and stops wandered far out of their
-right places; while the long words looked somewhat
-hieroglyphical. But the coach stopped;
-and Mr. Reid forgot to observe how much longer
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.88'>88</span>it took than before to change horses while he was
-the only passenger. He looked up only once,
-and then saw so charming an old granny, with
-her little Tommy, carrying a toad-in-a-hole to
-the baker’s, that he was rewarded for his momentary
-idleness, and resolved to find a place
-for them too, near the well and the mossy hedge.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>He was now as sorry to be off again as before
-to stop. The horses were spirited, and the road
-was rough. His pencil slipped and jerked, this
-way and that. Presently his eyes ached: his
-ideas were jostled away. It was impossible to
-compose while the manual act was so troublesome;
-it was nonsense to attempt it. Nothing
-but idleness would do in travelling; so the
-blunted pencil was put by, and the eye was
-refreshed once more with green.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>But now a new sort of country was opening.
-The hedges were gone, and a prodigious stretch
-of fallow on either hand looked breezy and
-pleasant enough at first; and the lark sprang
-from the furrow so blithely, that Reid longed to
-stop the coach, that he might hear its trilling.
-But the lark could not be heard, and was soon
-out of sight; and the perspective of furrows
-became as wearying as making pothooks had
-been. Reid betook himself to examining the
-window-pockets. There were two or three tidy
-parcels for solicitors, of course; and a little one,
-probably for a maid-servant, as there were seven
-lines of direction upon it. The scent of strawberries
-came from a little basket, coolly lined
-with leaves, and addressed to Master Jones, at a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.89'>89</span>school in a town to be presently passed through.
-Reid hoped, for the boy’s sake, that there was a
-letter too; and he found an interstice, through
-which he could slip half-a-dozen burnt almonds,
-which had remained in his pocket after treating
-his own child. What speculations there would
-be, next holiday time, about how the almonds
-got in! Two or three other little parcels were
-disregarded; for among them lay one of more
-importance to Reid than all the rest,—three
-newspapers, tied round once with a bit of red
-tape, and directed, in pencil, to be left at the
-Blue Lion till called for. Reid took the liberty
-of untying the tape, and amusing himself with
-the precious pieces of type that had fallen in his
-way. There was little political intelligence in
-these papers, and that was of old date; but a
-little goes a great way with a solitary traveller;
-and when the better parts of a newspaper are disposed
-of, enough remains in the drier parts to
-employ the intellect that courts suggestion. That
-which is the case with all objects on which the
-attention is occupied, is eminently the case with
-a newspaper—that whatever the mind happens
-to be full of there receives addition, and that the
-mood in which it is approached there meets with
-confirmation. Reid had heard much from the
-farmer of the hardships which individuals suffer
-from a wasteful public expenditure; and his eye
-seemed to catch something which related to this
-matter, to whatever corner of the papers it wandered.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.90'>90</span>"<span class='sc'>Strike at ****** Palace.</span>—<i>All the
-workmen at present employed on this extensive
-structure ceased work on the appearance of the
-contractor yesterday morning. Their demand for
-higher wages being decidedly refused by him, the
-men quitted the spot, and the works have since
-remained deserted. A considerable crowd gathered
-round, and appeared disposed to take part
-with the workmen, who, it is said, have for some
-time past been arranging a combination to secure
-a rise of wages. The contractor declares his
-intention to concede no part of the demand.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>The crowd taking part with the workmen!
-Then the crowd knows less than the workmen
-what it is about. These wages are paid by that
-very crowd; and it is because they issue from
-the public purse that the workmen think they
-may demand higher wages than they would from
-a nobleman or private gentleman. The contractor
-is but a medium, as they see, between the
-tax-payers and themselves; and the terms of the
-contract must depend much on the rate of wages
-of those employed. I hope the contractor will
-indeed concede nothing; for it is the people that
-must overpay eventually; and it has been too
-long taken for granted that the public must pay
-higher for everything than individuals. I should
-not wonder if these men have got it into their
-heads, like an acquaintance of mine in the same
-line, that, as they are taxed for these public
-buildings, they have a right to get as much of
-their money back as they can, forgetting that if
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.91'>91</span>every taxed person did the same, there would be
-no palace built;—not but that we could spare
-two or three extremely well;—or might, at least,
-postpone some of the interminable alterations
-and embellishments, with an account of which
-the nation is treated, year after year, in return
-for its complaisance in furnishing the cash. Let
-their Majesties be nobly lodged, by all means;
-and, moreover, gratified in the exercise of tastes
-which are a thousand times more dignified than
-those of our kings in the days of cloth of gold,
-and more refined than those of monarchs who
-could make themselves exceedingly merry at the
-expense of their people. The test, after all, is—What
-is necessary for the <i>support</i> of the administrating
-body, and what upholds mere <i>pomp</i>?
-These are no days for public pomp. In one
-sense, the time for it is gone by; in another
-sense, it is not come;—that is, we ought now to
-be men enough to put away such childish things;
-and, we cannot yet afford them. Two or three
-noble royal palaces, let alone when once completed,
-are, in my mind, a proper support to the
-dignity of the sovereign. As for half-a-dozen,
-if they do not make up a display of disgraceful
-pomp, the barbaric princes of the East are greater
-philosophers than I take them for. Yes, yes;
-let the sovereign be nobly lodged; but let it be
-remembered that noble lodgings are quite as
-much wanted for other parties.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"<i>Mr. ——’s motion was lost without a
-division.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.92'>92</span>Aye: just so. The concentrated essence of
-the people, as the House of Commons pretends
-to be, must put up with a sordid lodging, however
-many royal palaces England may boast. They
-are not anything so precious as they pretend to
-be, or they would not so meanly exclude themselves
-from their right. They might just as
-faithfully consult the dignity of the empire by
-making the King and Queen live in a cottage of
-three rooms, as by squeezing themselves into a
-house where there is neither proper accommodation
-for their sittings, nor for the transaction of
-their business in Committees, nor for witnessing,
-nor for reporting their proceedings. I thought
-my wife quite right in saying that she would never
-again undergo the insult of being referred to the
-ventilators; and I have determined twenty times
-myself that I would despise the gallery so utterly
-that I would never set foot in it again: yet to the
-gallery I still go; and I should not wonder if my
-wife puts away, for once or twice, her disgust at
-inhaling smoke and steam, and her indignation
-at being permitted to watch the course of legislation
-only through a pigeon-hole and a grating.
-The presence of women there, in spite of such
-insults, is a proof that they are worthy of being
-treated less like nuns and more like rational
-beings; and the greater the rush and consequent
-confusion in the gallery, the more certain is it that
-there are people who want, and who eventually
-will have the means of witnessing the proceedings
-of their legislators. But all this is nothing to
-the importance of better accommodation to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.93'>93</span>members. Of all extraordinary occasions of
-being economical, that is the most strange which
-impairs the exertions of the grand deliberative
-assembly of the nation,—the most majestic body,
-if it understood its own majesty,—within the
-bounds of the empire. Why,—every nobleman
-should be content with one house, and every
-private gentleman be ashamed of his stables and
-kennels, rather than that the House of Commons
-should not have a perfect place of assemblage.
-I verily believe that many a poor man would
-willingly give his every third potato towards thus
-aiding the true representation of his interests. It
-would be good economy in him so to do, if there
-was nothing of less consequence to be sacrificed
-first. But King, Lords, and Commons are not
-the only personages who have a claim on the
-public to be well housed, for purposes of social
-support, not pomp.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"<i>Yesterday morning, Andrew Wilson underwent
-the sentence of the law, &c. &c. Though
-only twenty years of age, he was old in guilt,
-having been committed for his first offence,—throwing
-stones at the police,—-when he was in
-his thirteenth year. He is supposed to have been
-for some time connected with a gang of desperate
-offenders; but nothing could be extracted from
-him relative to his former associates, though the
-reverend chaplain of the jail devoted the most
-unremitting attention to the spiritual concerns of
-the unhappy man.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>So this is the way we tend the sick children of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.94'>94</span>the great social family, because, forsooth, with
-all our palaces, we cannot afford a proper infirmary!
-As soon as symptoms of sickness appear,
-we thrust all our patients together, to make
-one another as much worse as possible, and when
-any one is past hope, we take credit for our humanity
-in stuffing him with remedies which come
-too late. To look at our prisons, one would
-think that we must be out in our Christian chronology.
-That among the many mansions of the
-social edifice, room cannot be found for those
-who have the strongest claim of all on our pitying
-love and watchful care,—what a scandal this
-is may be most fully comprehended by those who
-have passed from the loathsome confusion of the
-greater number of our prisons to the silence and
-rigid order of the very few in which a better
-system has been tried. There are persons to
-press the argument that while many of our honest
-poor, in London and in the factory districts, are
-crowded together, six or seven families in the
-same apartment, it cannot be expected that the
-guilty should be better accommodated. But
-these same honest poor,—trebly honest if they
-can remain so under such a mode of living,—may
-well be as glad as other people that the
-prisoner should be doomed to the solitude which
-their poverty denies to them. These same honest
-poor are taxed to pay for the transportation of
-multitudes of the guilty, and for the idleness of
-all: while the incessant regeneration of crime
-through our prison methods affords but a melancholy
-prospect of augmented burdens on their
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.95'>95</span>children’s children for similar purposes. In this
-point of view alone, how dearly has the public
-paid for the destruction of this Andrew Wilson,
-and for the offences of the gang he belongs to!
-Committed in his childhood for the childish fault
-of throwing stones, kept in a state of expensive
-idleness for want of an apparatus of labour,
-thrown into an atmosphere of corruption for
-want of room to insulate him, issuing forth as a
-vagabond to spread the infection of idleness and
-vice, and being brought back to be tried and
-hanged at the nation’s expense, after he had successfully
-qualified others for claiming from the
-public the expense of transportation,—would not
-the injured wretch have been more profitably
-maintained through a long life at the public expense?
-Would it not have answered better to
-the public purse to give him an establishment, on
-condition of his remaining harmless? If no
-Christian considerations are strong enough to
-rouse us to build new jails, or to transmute the spare
-palaces of the educated and the honoured into
-penitentiaries for the ignorant and forlorn, there
-may be calculable truths,—facts of pounds, shillings,
-and pence,—which may plead on behalf of
-the guilty against the system of mingled parsimony
-and extravagance by which guilt is aggravated
-at home, and diffused abroad, and the
-innocent have to pay dear for that present quiet
-which insures a future further invasion of their
-security. Every complainant who commits a
-young offender to certain of our jails knows, or
-may know, that he thereby burdens the public
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.96'>96</span>with a malefactor for life, and with all who will
-become criminals by his means. What wonder
-that the growing chances of impunity become a
-growing inducement to crime? There is no occasion
-to “provide criminals with port wine and
-Turkey-carpets;” but there would be more sense
-and better economy in this extreme,—if insulation
-were secured,—than in the system which remains
-a reproach to the head and heart of the
-community. Ah! here are a few hints as to one
-of the methods by which we contrive to have so
-many young offenders upon our hands.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>John Ford, a publican, was fined for having
-music in his house, &c. &c.</i>”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>Two labourers, brothers, named White,
-were charged with creating a disturbance in the
-neighbourhood of the residence of Sir L. M. N. O.,
-who has lately enforced his right of shutting up
-the foot-path, &c. &c.</i>”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>The number of boats which passed under
-Putney Bridge from noon to sunset on a Sunday
-in summer, was computed by the informant of
-the right reverend bishop to exceed, &c. &c.</i>”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"<i>The witness stated that he saw the two prisoners
-that morning in the Albany Road, Regent’s
-Park, selling the unstamped publications which
-were now produced. He purchased a copy from
-each of them, and took the vendors into custody.
-The magistrates committed the prisoners to the
-House of Correction for one month each, and
-thrust the forfeited papers into the fire. The
-prisoners were then removed from the bar, laughing.</i>“</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.97'>97</span>”<i>On the discussion, last night, relative to the
-throwing open of the Museum, we have to observe,
-&c. &c.</i>“</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”<i>The prisoner related that his dog having, on
-a former occasion, brought a hare to him in a similar
-manner, the gamekeeper had ordered the
-animal to be shot. The prisoner’s son had then
-contrived to secrete it; but he could assure the
-magistrates that the animal should be immediately
-<a id='corr97.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='sacrified'>sacrificed</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_97.10'><ins class='correction'>sacrificed</ins></a></span> if he might be spared the ruin of
-being sent to prison.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Considering that one of the great objects of
-government is the security, and another the advancement,
-of the people, it seems as if one of
-the expenses of government should be providing
-useful and innocent amusement for the people.
-All must have something to do in the intervals of
-their toils; and as the educated can find recreations
-for themselves, it behoves the guardians of
-the public to be especially careful in furnishing
-innocent amusements to those who are less fitted
-to choose their pleasures well. But where are
-the public grounds in which the poor of our large
-towns may take the air, and exercise themselves
-in games? Where are the theatres, the museums,
-the news-rooms, to which the poor may
-resort without an expense unsuited to their
-means? What has become of the principle of
-Christian equality, when a Christian prelate murmurs
-at the poor man’s efforts to enjoy, at rare
-intervals, the green pastures and still waters to
-which a loving shepherd would fain lead forth
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.98'>98</span>all his flock; and if any more tenderly than
-others, it would be such as are but too little left
-at large? Our administrators are careful enough
-to guard the recreations of those who, if deprived
-of them, are in the least danger of being driven
-to guilty excitements. The rich who can have
-music and dancing, theatres, picture-galleries
-and museums, riding in the parks, and walking
-in the fields any day of the week, hunting and
-boating, journeying and study, must also have
-one more, at whatever expense of vice and misery
-to their less favoured neighbours, and at whatever
-cost to society at large. Yes; their game must
-be protected, though the poor man must not
-listen in the public-house to the music which he
-cannot hire, nor read at home almost the only
-literature that he can buy. He must destroy his
-cherished dog, if it happens to follow a hare; and
-must take his evening walk in the dusty road if a
-powerful neighbour forbids him the quiet, green
-footway. Thus we drive him to try if there is
-no being merry at the beer-shop, and if he cannot
-amuse himself with his dog in the woods at
-night, since he must not in the day. Thus we
-tempt him to worse places than a cheap theatre
-would be. Thus we preach to him about loving
-and cherishing God’s works, while we shut out
-some of them from his sight, and wrest others
-from his grasp; and, by making happiness and
-heaven an abstraction which we deny him the
-intellect to comprehend, we impel him to make
-trial of misery and hell, and by our acts do our
-best to speed him on his way, while our weak
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.99'>99</span>words of warning are dispersed by the whirlwind
-of temptation which we ourselves have raised. If
-the administration of penal justice be a grievous
-burden upon the people, it must be lightened by
-a practical respect to that higher justice which
-commands that the interests of all, the noble and
-the mean, the educated and the ignorant, be of
-equal importance in the regards of the administration;
-so that government shall as earnestly
-protest against the slaughter of the poor man’s
-dog for the sake of the rich man’s sport, as
-the prophet of God against the sacrifice of the
-poor man’s ewe-lamb for the rich man’s feast. If
-bible-read prelates preached from their hearts
-upon this text, we should never have another
-little boy supposing that he was to be a clergyman,
-because he went out shooting with his
-father. Would that such could be persuaded to
-leave their partridges and pheasants, and go east
-and west, to bring down and send home the
-winged creatures of other climes, wherewith to
-delight the eyes of the ignorant, and to enlarge
-his knowledge of God’s works! Meantime, the
-well-dressed only can enter the Zoological Gardens;
-and the footman (who cannot be otherwise
-than well-dressed) must pull off his cockade before
-he may look at that which may open to him
-some of the glory of the 104th Psalm. We are
-lavish of God’s word to the people, but grudging
-of his works. We offer them the dead letter,
-withholding the spirit which gives life. Yet
-something is done in the way of genuine homage.
-See here!—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.100'>100</span>“<i>Yesterday being the occasion of the annual
-assemblage of schools in St. Paul’s * * under
-the dome * * children sang a hymn * *
-crowded to excess * * presence of her Majesty,
-&c. &c.</i>”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>And here follows an account of certain university
-prize-givings. We are not without public
-education,—badged,—the one to denote charity,
-the other endowments.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>If education were what it ought to be,—the
-breath of the life of the community,—there would
-be an end of this childish and degrading badging.
-At present, this prodigious display of white
-tippets and coloured cockades under the dome of
-St. Paul’s tells only that, because the whole of
-society is not educated at all, a small portion is
-educated wrong. There is less to be proud than
-ashamed of in such an exhibition; and though
-the stranger from a comparatively barbarous
-country may feel his heart swell as that mighty
-infant voice chaunts its hymn of praise, the
-thoughts of the meditative patriot will wander
-from these few elect to the multitudes that are
-left in the outer darkness. Till the state can
-show how every parent may afford his children a
-good education, the state is bound to provide the
-means for it; and to enforce the use of those
-means by making a certain degree of intellectual
-competency a condition of the enjoyment of the
-benefits of society. Till the state can appoint to
-every member a sufficiency of leisure from the
-single manual act which, under an extensive division
-of labour, constitutes the business of many,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.101'>101</span>it is bound to provide the only effectual antidote
-to the contracting and benumbing influences
-of such servile toil.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Till knowledge ceases to be at least as necessary
-to the happiness of the state as military skill
-was to the defence of the Greek Republics, the
-state is bound to require of every individual a
-certain amount of intellectual ability, as Greece
-required of her citizens a specified degree of military
-skill. Till all these extraordinary things
-happen, no pleas of poverty, no mournful reference
-to the debt, no just murmurs against the
-pension list, can absolve us from the obligation
-of framing and setting in motion a system of
-instruction which shall include every child that
-shall not be better educated elsewhere. Not that
-this would be any very tremendous expense.
-There is an enormous waste of educational resources
-already, from the absence of system and
-co-operation. Lords and ladies, squires and
-dames, farmers’ wives, merchants’ daughters, and
-clergymen’s sisters, have their schools, benevolently
-set on foot, and indefatigably kept up, in
-defiance of the evils of insulation and diversity of
-plan. Let all these be put under the workings
-of a well-planned system, and there will be a prodigious
-saving of effort and of cost. The private
-benevolence now operating in this direction
-would go very far towards the fulfilment of a
-national scheme. What a saving in teachers, in
-buildings, in apparatus and materials, and, finally,
-in badges! There will be no uniform of white
-caps and tippets when there is no particular glory
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.102'>102</span>to be got by this species of charity; when none
-can be found who must put up with the humiliation
-for the sake of the overbalancing good.
-When the whole people is so well off that none
-come to receive alms at the sound of the trumpet,
-the trumpet will cease to sound. The day may
-even arrive when blue gowns and yellow stockings
-shall excite pity in the beholders no more,
-and no widowed parent be compelled to struggle
-with her maternal shame at subjecting her comely
-lad to the mortifications which the young spirit
-has not learned to brave. This last grievance,
-however, lies not at the nation’s door. It is chargeable
-on the short-sightedness of an individual,
-which may serve as a warning to us whenever
-we set to work on our system of national education.
-It may teach us, by exhibiting the folly of
-certain methods of endowment, to examine others;
-to avoid the absurdity of bestowing vast sums in
-teaching plain things in a perplexed manner, or
-supposed sciences which have long ceased to be
-regarded as such, or other accomplishments which
-the circumstances of the times do not render
-either necessary or convenient. It may lead our
-attention from the endowed school to the endowed
-university, and show us that what we want,
-from our gentlemen as well as our poor, is an
-awakening of the intellect to objects of immediate
-and general concern, and not a compulsion to
-mental toil which shall leave a man, after years
-of exemplary application, ignorant of whatever
-may make him most useful in society, and may
-be best employed and improved amidst the intercourses
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.103'>103</span>of the world. Let there remain a tribe
-of book-worms still; and Heaven forbid that the
-classics should fall into contempt! But let scholastic
-honours be bestowed according to the sympathies
-of the many; the many being meantime
-so cultivated as that they may arrive at a sympathy
-with intellectual toil. With the progress
-of science, the diffusion of science becomes necessary.
-The greater the power of the people
-to injure or rebel, the more necessary it is to
-teach them to be above injuring and rebelling.
-The ancient tyrant who hung up his laws written
-in so small a character that his people could not
-read them, and then punished offenders under
-pretence that his laws were exhibited, was no
-more unjust than we are while we transport and
-hang our neighbours for deeds of folly and malice,
-while we still withhold from them the spirit of
-power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Bring
-public education to the test, and it will be found
-that badgery is <i>pomp</i>, while universal instruction
-is essential to the <i>support</i> of the state.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>A pretty new church that! But I should
-scarcely have supposed it wanted while there is a
-new Methodist meeting-house on one side the
-way, and the large old Independent chapel on the
-other. The little church that the lady is sketching
-before it comes down, might have served a
-while longer, I fancy, if the necessity had been
-estimated by the number of church-goers, and
-not of souls, in the parish. Whatever may be
-thought of the obligation to provide a national
-scheme of worship after the manner in which a
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.104'>104</span>national scheme of education is certainly a duty,—however
-the essential circumstance of distinction
-is overlooked, that every member of the state
-has, without its assistance, opportunities of worship,
-while such is not the case with instruction,—whatever
-may be thought of the general question
-of an ecclesiastical establishment,—it is not pretended
-by any that its purposes are answered by
-the application of its funds to the augmentation
-of private fortunes instead of the religious instruction
-of the people. Time was when he who
-presented to a <i>benefice</i> was supposed to confer a
-<i>benefit</i> on the people connected with it. Now
-we have the public barter of such presentations
-for gold; and whether most regard be always
-paid to the qualifications of the candidate or to
-the gold he brings, let the face of the country
-declare. Meeting-houses springing up in every
-village, intelligent artizans going off to one class
-or another of Dissenters, while the stolid race of
-agricultural labourers lounge to church,—what
-does this tell but that the religious wants of the
-people are better met by the privately-paid than
-the publicly-paid church? The people are not
-religiously <i>instructed</i> by the clergy, as a body.
-Look into our agricultural districts, and see what
-the mere opening of churches does for the population,—for
-the dolts who snore round the fire in
-the farm-kitchen during the long winter evenings,
-and the poor wretches that creep, match in hand,
-between the doomed stacks, or that walk firmly
-to the gibbet under the delusion that their life-long
-disease of grovelling vice is cured and sent
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.105'>105</span>to oblivion by a few priestly prayers and three
-days of spiritual excitement! Look into our
-thronged towns, and search in its cellars and
-garrets, its alleys and its wider streets, how many
-dwellers there see the face of their clergyman,
-and have learned from his lips the reason of the
-hope that is in them,—if such hope there indeed
-be! They hear that he who holds the benefice,
-<i>i.e.</i> is appointed their benefactor, is living in
-London, or travelling abroad, on the funds which
-are derived from the people, and that a curate,
-found by accident or advertisement, is coming to
-do the duty. He may be a religious instructor,
-in the real sense of the term, or he may not. If
-he be, no thanks to his superior, no thanks to
-the state, no thanks to the university that bred
-him! For aught they know or trouble themselves
-about, he may be more ignorant than
-many a mechanic in his flock, and more indolent
-than the finest lady who carries her salts to her
-cushioned pew. He might have the same virtues
-that he has now if he were a dissenting minister;
-and nobody disputes that nowhere does virtue
-more eminently fail of its earthly recompense
-than in the church. Nowhere do luxury and indolence
-more shamelessly absorb the gains of
-hardship and of toil. The sum of the whole
-matter is, that in the present state of the church,
-the people pay largely for religious instruction,
-which it is a chance whether they obtain. If the
-same payment were made by the people direct,—without
-the intervention of the state,—they would
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.106'>106</span>be sure to demand and receive an equivalent for
-their sacrifices. If the people be supposed incapable
-of thus providing for their own spiritual
-wants, it behoves the state to see that those wants
-are actually provided for, so that more than half
-the nation may not be compelled, through failure
-of duty in the establishment, to support a double
-ministry. No power in earth or heaven can absolve
-the state from the obligation, either to leave
-to its members the management of their own
-funds for religious worship and instruction, or to
-furnish to every individual the means of learning
-the Gospel and worshipping his Maker. The
-first is a plan which has been elsewhere found to
-answer full as well as any we have yet tried. The
-last can never be attained by merely opening a
-sufficiency of churches, and leaving to men’s
-cupidity the chance whether the pulpit shall be
-occupied by an ape or an apostle.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Have the people got a notion already of such
-an alternative?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"<span class='sc'>Tithes.</span>—<span class='sc'>Parish of C.</span>—<i>On Monday, the
-Rev. J. B. H. commenced distraining for tithes
-due, &c. &c. On that day there were impounded
-above forty cows. The parishioners offered security
-for the cattle, which was refused, and they
-have resolved to let the law take its course. In
-the mean time, a large military and police force
-is stationed in the vicinity of the pound. Sentinels
-are regularly posted and relieved, and the
-place presents more the appearance of a warlike
-district than a country village.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.107'>107</span>Ah! this Rev. J. B. H. takes for his text,
-perhaps, “I came not to send peace on earth,
-but a sword.” The people, it seems, think his
-claim, 1476<i>l.</i>, on a valued property of 9000<i>l.</i> a
-year, excessive. But his advocate declares that
-no man, acquainted with first principles, can deny
-that the Rev. J. B. H. has a legal right to demand
-and take his tithes. Be it so! But first principles
-tell just as plainly that it is high time the
-law was altered:—first principles of humanity to
-the clergy themselves, to judge by what comes
-next.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>"<i>The subscription for the relief of the families
-of clergymen in Ireland proceeds but slowly,
-though the necessity for it increases with every
-passing day. Ladies who have been educated
-with a view to filling a highly-respectable station
-in society may now be seen engaged in the most
-laborious domestic offices; while their children
-are thankful to accept a meal of potatoes from
-some of the lowest of their father’s flock.</i>“</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”<i>The widow of an Irish clergyman, middle-aged,
-is eager to obtain a situation to superintend
-the management of the nursery in the family of a
-widower, or as useful companion to a lady, or as
-housekeeper in a nobleman’s mansion, or as matron
-in an extensive charitable institution. She
-would be willing to make herself useful in any
-situation not menial, her circumstances being of an
-urgent nature.—References to a lady of rank.</i>“</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”<i>A master of arts, in full orders, is desirous
-of a curacy. He feels himself equal to a laborious
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.108'>108</span>charge; and a speedy settlement is of more
-importance than the amount of salary, especially
-if there be an opening for tuition.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Alas! what a disclosure of misery is here!
-among a body which the United Kingdom is
-taxed to maintain. Poor as the Dissenting clergy
-may be, as a body, we hear of no such conflicts
-in their lot. The poor spirit-broken clergyman
-bearing, undeserved by him, the opprobrium
-belonging to his church, seeing his gentle wife
-washing his floor, or striving to patch up once
-more the girl’s frock and the boy’s coat; while
-they, poor children, peep in at the door of the
-labourer’s smoky cabin, and rush in at the first
-invitation to take a sup of milk or a potatoe!
-Scraps of the classics, descriptive of poverty, <i>will</i>
-run in his head, instead of gospel consolations
-of poverty; for the good reason that he was
-taught that his classics, and not his choice of
-poverty, were his title to preach the gospel. He
-could find in his heart to inquire further of any
-heretical sect, which takes for its rule to employ
-every one according to his capacity, and reward
-him according to his works. However difficult
-it might be to fix upon any authority which all
-men would agree to be a fitting judge of their
-capacities and their works, none would affirm
-that an educated clergyman is employed according
-to his capacities in wandering about helpless
-amidst the contempt or indifference of his flock,
-or that his works are properly rewarded by the
-starvation of his family. Then there is the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.109'>109</span>widow of a brother in the same fruitless ministry!
-“<i>Any situation not menial!</i>” “<i>Her
-circumstances of an urgent nature!</i>” One poor
-relation, perhaps, taking charge of one child,
-and another of a second; and the third, perhaps,
-sent to wear the badge of this lady of rank at a
-charity-school, that the widow may be made
-childless—may advertise herself as “without
-incumbrance,” to undertake any situation not
-menial! Then comes the curate, eager to undertake
-more than man can do for as little as
-man can live for;—to use his intellectual tools,
-framed with care, and polished with long toil,
-and needing, in their application, all the power
-of a philosopher with all the zeal of a saint,—for
-less than is given to the artizan who spends
-his life in the performance of one manual act,
-or the clerk, whose whole soul lies in one process
-of computation! This poor curate, heart-sick
-through long waiting, may find employment according
-to his capacities, and above them; but,
-if he be fit for his work, he will not be rewarded
-according to it, till those for whom he and his
-brethren toil have, directly or indirectly, the distribution
-of the recompense. Bring the church,
-in its turn, to the test. It is certain that it is
-made up of pomp and penury; and no power on
-earth can prove that it at present yields any support
-to the state.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Since the people have no benefit from a state
-education, and but a questionable benefit from a
-state church, how much is spent on their behalf?
-Here are tables which look as if they would tell
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.110'>110</span>something, though it requires more wit than
-mortal man has to make out accurately how the
-public accounts really stand. Among all the
-accommodations provided for the transaction of
-public business, one would think a pay-office
-might be fixed upon where all public claims
-should be discharged, in certain allotted departments;
-and, among all the servants of government,
-working men or sinecurists, one would
-think some might be employed in preparing such
-a document as has never yet been seen among
-us—an account of the actual annual expenditure
-of the public money. But one may make some
-approach to the truth in the gross:—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>The expenditure for the last year may be
-calculated, in round numbers, at upwards of
-fifty millions.</i>”</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Upon my word, we are a gay nation! If we
-acted upon the belief held by some very wise
-persons, that the business of government might
-be conducted at a charge of one per cent. on the
-aggregate of individual revenue, this sum total
-would show us to be rich enough to buy Europe,
-and perhaps America to boot. This would give
-us a national wealth which it would be beyond
-Crœsus himself to form a notion of. But we
-are far enough from having ourselves governed
-so cheaply. Let us see how these fifty millions
-go:—</p>
-
-<table class='table1'>
-<colgroup>
-<col class='colwidth82'>
-<col class='colwidth17'>
-</colgroup>
- <tr>
- <td class='c016'>“<i>To the Public Creditor</i></td>
- <td class='c017'>£28,000,000©©</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c016'>©<i>Civil and Pension Lists</i></td>
- <td class='c017'>1,000,000©©</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.111'>111</span>©<i>Superannuated and Reduced Allowances of Civil Departments</i></td>
- <td class='c017'>£1,000,000©©</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c016'>©<i>Do. of Military Ditto</i></td>
- <td class='c017'>4,300,000©©</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c016'>©<i>Miscellaneous Charges</i></td>
- <td class='c017'>200,000.”</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class='c001'>Here are thirty-four millions and a half devoted
-to “non-effective” expenditure. This is a
-pretty triumph of <i>Pomp</i> versus <i>Support</i>.—Yes,—pomp:
-for few will now dare to affirm that
-our prodigious wars were necessary to the
-national defence. They were wars of pomp
-which undermined our supports: and, as for the
-glory thus gained, our descendants will be
-ashamed of it long before they have done paying
-for it.—As for the other items of non-effective
-expenditure,—the smaller they appear by the
-side of the enormous debt charge, the more necessity
-there is for their reduction; since the
-disproportion proves,—not their smallness, but
-its bigness. Though they cannot be abolished,—though
-their Majesties must have a household,—though
-the other branches of the royal family
-must be supported,—though retired soldiers and
-sailors must be taken care of on their quitting a
-service from which it is not easy to turn to any
-other,—no man will now affirm that reduction is
-forever impossible; though the like affirmation
-was made before the present government proved
-its falsehood. That their Majesties must have a
-household on a liberal scale is true; but that
-there are no sinecures in the royal households
-remains to be proved. And if such sinecures
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.112'>112</span>there must be, it also remains to be proved that
-they would not be equally well filled if they were
-merely honorary offices. That the members of
-the royal family, precluded as they are by their
-position from being independent, must submit to
-be maintained by a pitying people, is also true.
-It is a lot so full of mortification, that a Christian
-nation will soften the necessity to them to the
-utmost; cheerfully paying as much as will support
-them in decent splendour, but not so much
-more as will expose them to the taunts of their
-supporters. This regard to their feelings is their
-due, till their day of emancipation arrives,—till
-the customs of society shall allow them the
-natural rights of men and women,—the power of
-social exertion, and the enjoyment of social independence.
-Their case, however, is peculiar in
-its hardships. No other class in society is precluded
-from either enjoying ancestral property or
-accumulating property for themselves; and it is too
-much to expect the nation to approve or to pay for
-the infliction of a similar humiliation on any who
-have not, in their own persons or in those of their
-very nearest connexions, served the people for
-an otherwise insufficient reward. Let the soldier
-and sailor who have sacrificed health or member
-in the public defence be provided for by a grateful
-people; but there is no reason why the descendants
-of civil officers, or diplomatists retired
-from already overpaid services, should receive
-among them far more than is afforded to naval
-and military pensions together. As for the proportion
-of these naval and military pensions to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.113'>113</span>the expenditure for effective defence, it is to be
-hoped that a long abstinence from war will
-rectify,—if they must not be otherwise rectified,—such
-enormous abuses as that of the number
-of retired soldiers far exceeding that of the employed,
-and of the expenses of the non-effective
-service being considerably greater than the maintenance
-of the actual army. Monstrous absurdities!
-that the factitiously helpless class should
-cost the nation more than those who advance
-some plea,—more or less substantial,—of civil
-services, rendered by themselves or their connexions!
-that these last should cost the nation
-more than the whole body of its maimed, and
-wounded, and worn-out defenders! and that these
-again should cost the nation more than its actual
-defenders! What wonder that they from whose
-toils all these expenses must be paid talk of a
-national militia,—of arming themselves, and dispensing
-with a standing army? It is no wonder:
-but when we let them be as wise as they desire
-to be, they will perceive that their best weapons
-at present are the tongues of their representatives.
-It has not yet been tried whether these tongues
-may not utter a spell powerful enough to loosen
-this enormous Dead-Weight from the neck of the
-nation.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>But how goes the 15,000,000<i>l.</i> for actual service?</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>Of the 15,000,000l. required for active service,
-three and a half are expended on the collection
-of the revenue. Eight and a quarter on
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.114'>114</span>defence. Law and justice swallow up three-quarters
-of a million. Another million is required
-for civil government, and the expenses of
-legislation. Diplomacy and the colonial civil
-service are discharged by half a million. About
-half a million is spent on public works. The
-remaining odd half million out of the fifteen, is
-expended on the management of the debt, and
-for miscellaneous services,” &c.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>So we, a most Christian nation, with abundance
-of Christian prelates, and a church which
-is to watch over the state with apostolic care,—we,
-strenuous professors of a religion of peace
-and enlightenment,—spend eight millions and a
-quarter on Defence, and——how much on popular
-Education? I suppose the latter forms some
-little item in one of the smaller accounts, for I
-can nowhere see it. Eight millions and a quarter
-on Defence, and three quarters on Law and
-Justice! Eight and a quarter on Defence, and
-one on Government and Legislation! Eight
-millions and a quarter on Defence, and half a
-million on Public Works! O, monstrous!—too
-monstrous a sin to be charged on any ruler, or
-body of rulers, or succession of bodies of rulers!
-The broad shoulders of the whole civilized world
-must bear this tremendous reproach:—the world
-which has had Christianity in it these eighteen
-hundred years, and whose most Christian empire
-yet lays out more than half its serviceable expenditure
-in providing the means of bloodshed,
-or of repelling bloodshed! The proportion would
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.115'>115</span>be enormous, even if all the other items were of
-righteous signification,—if the proper proportion
-of the three and a half millions for Collection
-went to Education; if Law were simple, and
-Justice cheap; if the real servants of Government
-were liberally paid, and all idle hangers-on shaken
-off; if there were no vicious diplomatic and colonial
-patronage; and no jobbing in the matter
-of Public Works. If all else were as it should be,
-this item might well make us doubt what age of the
-world we are living in, and for what purpose it is
-that Providence is pleased to humble us by leaving
-such a painful thorn of barbarism in the side of our
-majestic civilization. Long must it be before it
-can grow out. Meantime, let us not boast as if the
-whole body were sound; or as if we were not
-performing as humbling and factitious a duty in
-paying our defence-taxes as the bondman of old
-in following the banner of the cross to the eastern
-slaughter-field. The one was the bondman’s duty
-then; and the other is the citizen’s duty now;
-but the one duty is destined to become as obsolete
-as the other.—What glory in that day, to reverse
-the order of expenditure! Education, Public
-Works, Government and Legislation, Law and
-Justice, Diplomacy, Defence, Dignity of the
-Sovereign. When this time shall come, no one
-can conjecture; but that we shall not always
-have to pay eight millions a year for our defence
-is certain; if the voice of a wise man,—(which
-is always the voice of an awakening multitude,)—say
-true. “Human intelligence will not stand
-still: the same impulse that has hitherto borne
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.116'>116</span>it onwards, will continue to advance it yet further.
-The very circumstance of the vast increase of
-expense attending national warfare has made it
-impossible for governments henceforth to engage
-in it, without the public assent, expressed or
-implied; and that assent will be obtained with
-the more difficulty, in proportion as the public
-shall become more generally acquainted with
-their real interest. The national military establishment
-will be reduced to what is barely sufficient
-to repel external attack; for which purpose, little
-more is necessary than a small body of such
-kinds of troops as cannot be had without long
-training and exercise; as of cavalry and artillery.
-For the rest, nations will rely on their militia,
-and on the excellence of their internal polity; for
-it is next to impossible to conquer a people,
-unanimous in their attachment to their national
-institutions.” Nor will any desire to conquer
-them while our example of the results of conquest
-is before the eyes of nations. Then the newspapers
-will not have to give up space to notices
-of military reviews; and gentry whose names
-have no chance of otherwise appearing in print
-will not have the trouble of looking for themselves
-in the list of army promotions. The pomp
-of defence will be done away, while the support
-will remain in the hearts and hands of the
-people.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>What a blessed thing it is that as soon as the
-people do not choose to pay for pomp, pomp will
-be done away! What a blessed thing that they
-cannot be put out of the question, as Henry
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.117'>117</span>VIII.’s people were, by sending their representatives
-to the wars as often as they disliked paying
-for the King’s gold and silver beards, or the
-Lady Mary’s fool’s cap and bells! What a
-blessing that they can be no longer feared and
-yet defied, as when Charles II. did without a
-parliament because he was afraid to tell them of
-the bribes he had taken, and the loans he had
-asked, and the cheats he had committed, and the
-mad extravagance of his tastes and habits! Here,
-I see, we are content to pay for</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>“<i>Robes, collars, badges, &c., for Knights of
-the several Orders.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”<i>Repairing the King’s crown, maces, badges,
-&c., and gold and silver sticks.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>“<i>Plate to the Secretary of State.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>”<i>Plate and various equipage money to the Lord
-Lieutenant and Lord Chancellor of Ireland.</i>"</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>This is the people’s own doing. No grown
-man can be supposed to care for crowns and gold
-sticks, and robes and collars, in themselves. It
-is the people who choose to preserve them as
-antiquarian curiosities. So be it, as long as their
-taste for antiquities takes this turn, and they can
-find grown men good-natured enough to dress
-up to make a show for their gratification. But,
-in another reign or two, it will be necessary to
-have dolls made to save busy and grave legislators
-the toil and absurdity of figuring in such an
-exhibition; or perhaps cheap theatres will by
-that time be allowed, where those who now act
-pantomimes, will not be above exhibiting these
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.118'>118</span>other mummeries on Christmas nights. Meantime,
-if the people choose to have their functionaries
-surrounded with pomp and parade, they
-must pay the purchase money with thanks.
-Whenever they shall become disposed to dispense
-with guards, trappings, and pageantry, to respect
-simplicity, and obey the laws for the sake of
-something more venerable than maces and wigs,
-they have only to say so, and doubtless the King
-will feel much relieved, and his ministers very
-thankful. The laws will work quite as well for
-the judges looking like other people; in the same
-manner as it is found that physicians’ prescriptions
-are worth full as much as formerly, though
-the learned gentlemen now wear their own hair.
-We tried this method of simplicity in our own
-North American Colonies, less than a century
-ago. Their total expenditure was under 65,000<i>l.</i>
-per annum. We shall not have held those
-colonies for nothing if we learn from our own
-doings there how cheap a thing government may
-be made, when removed from under the eyes and
-the hands of a born aristocracy.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>What a rich, stirring, happy-looking country
-this is before my eyes, where the people hold up
-their heads and smile,—very differently, I fancy,
-from what they did when the proud Cardinal
-made a progress through it, or when whispers of
-the sale of Dunkirk circulated in advance or in
-the rear of the sovereign who bartered away his
-people’s honour! How times are changed, when,
-instead of complaining that the King and his
-Ministers sacrifice the nation to their own pomps
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.119'>119</span>and vanities, the people only murmur at an
-insufficiency of courage and despatch in relieving
-them of the burdens imposed by the mal-administration
-of a former age! What a change, from
-being king-ridden, courtier-ridden, priest-ridden,
-minister-ridden, to being,—not king-ridden, less
-courtier-ridden, priest-ridden only while it is our
-pleasure to be so, and ruled by a ministry, every
-tittle of whose power hangs upon the breath of
-the people! One may bear even the debt, for a
-short space, with patience, while blessed with the
-sober certainty that the true instrument of rectification,—the
-responsibility of rulers to the ruled,
-is at length actually in our hands. One might
-almost wish long life to the sinecure pensioners,
-and be courteous about the three millions and a
-half consumed in tax collecting, if one rested in
-a comparison of the present with the past. But
-there is enough before one’s eyes to remind one
-how much remains to be done before the nation
-shall receive full justice at the hands of its
-guardians. By small savings in many quarters,
-or by one of the several decided retrenchments
-which are yet possible and imperative, some entire
-tax, with its cost of collection, might ere this
-have been spared, and many an individual and
-many a family who wanted but this one additional
-weight to crush them, might now have been
-standing erect in their independence. What a
-list of advertisements is here! Petitions for relief,—how
-piteous! Offers of lodging, of service,
-literary, commercial, and personal, how eager!
-What tribes of little governesses, professing to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.120'>120</span>teach more than their young powers can possibly
-have achieved! What trains of servants, vehemently
-upholding their own honesty and accomplishments,—the
-married boasting of having got
-rid of their children to recommend themselves to
-their employers,—ay, even the mother advertising
-for sale the nourishment which God created for
-her first-born! There is no saying how much of
-all this is attributable to the weight of public
-burdens, or to the mode of their pressure: but it
-is enough that this craving for support co-exists
-with unnecessary public burdens. It is enough,
-were the craving aggravated a thousand-fold,
-and the needless burden extenuated to the
-smallest that could be estimated,—it is enough to
-prove that no worthless pensioner,—worthless to
-the nation at large,—should fill his snuff-box at
-the public charge, while a single tax-payer is
-distressed. For my part, I have no doubt that
-many of the cases in this long list of urgent
-appeals owe their sorrow to this cause. I have
-no doubt that many a young girl’s first grief is
-the seeing a deeper and a deeper gloom on her
-father’s brow, as he fails more and more to bear
-up against his share of the public burden, and
-finds that he must at length bring himself to the
-point, and surrender the child he has tenderly
-nurtured, and dismiss her to seek a laborious and
-precarious subsistence for herself. I have no
-doubt that many of these boasting servants would
-have reserved their own merits to bless their own
-circle, but for the difficulty that parents, husbands
-and brothers find in living on taxed articles.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.121'>121</span>While these things co-exist with the needless
-expenditure of a single farthing, I, for one, shall
-feel that, however thankful we may and ought to
-be for our prodigious advance in freedom and
-moral dignity, we have still to pray, day and
-night, that the cry of the poor and the mirth of the
-parasite do not rise up together against us. Too
-fearful a retribution must await us, if we suffer
-any more honest hearts to be crushed under the
-chariot wheels of any ‘gay, licentious proud’—who
-must have walked barefoot in the mud, if
-their condition had been determined by their
-deserts.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>What place <i>is</i> this? I was not aware that these
-pretty villas, and evergreen gardens, and trim
-causeways stretched to so great a distance on
-any London road. Bless me! where can we be?
-I know that old oak. I must have been dreaming
-if we have passed through Croydon without my
-perceiving it. I shall be early at G.’s after all.
-No! not I! It is some two hours later than I
-thought. Travelling alone is the best pastime,
-after all. I must tie up these newspapers. It is
-a wonder they have not been claimed for the
-Blue Lion yet.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>My wife would say this is just the light for the
-Abbey; but she has said so of every light, from
-the broadest noon sunshine to the glimmer of the
-slenderest crescent at midnight. Long may the
-Abbey stand, quiet amidst the bustle of moving life,
-a monitor speaking eloquently of the past, and
-breathing low prophecies of the future! It is a
-far nobler depository of records than the Tower:
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.122'>122</span>for here are brought into immediate contrast the
-two tribes of kings,—the sovereigns by physical
-force, and the sovereigns by moral force,—the
-royal Henries, and the thrice royal Shakspeare and
-Locke and Wilberforce;—and there remains also
-space for some one who perchance may unite the
-attributes of all;—who, by doing the highest work
-of a ruler in making the people happy, may discharge
-the commission of a seraph in leading them
-on to be wise. Let not the towers totter, nor the
-walls crumble, till such an one is there sung to his
-rest by the requiem of a virtuous people! But the
-noblest place of records can never be within four
-walls, shut in from the stars. There is one, as
-ancient, may be, as the Abbey; and perhaps
-destined to witness its aisles laid open to the
-sunrise, and its monuments to the shifting moonlight,—the
-old oak that we passed just now.
-My wife pities it, standing exposed in its old age
-to the glare and the dust, when it was perhaps, in
-its youth, the centre of a cool, green thicket.
-But it is worth living through all things to
-witness what that oak has seen. If no prophetic
-eye were given to men, I think I would accept the
-<i>elixir vitæ</i> for a chance of beholding the like.
-As soon as that oak had a shade to offer, who
-came to court it? The pilgrim on his painful way
-to the southern shrine,—turning aside to pray
-that the helpless might not be ravaged by the
-spoiler in his absence? The nun who mourned
-within her cell, and trembled in God’s sunshine,
-and passed her blighted life in this sad alternation?
-The child who slept on the turf,—safely, with
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.123'>123</span>the adder in the neighbouring grass, and
-the robber looking down from the tree in envy of
-its innocence; innocence which, after all, was
-poisoned by a worse fang than the adder’s, and
-despoiled by the hand of a ruder bandit,—tyranny?—Who
-came in a later age?—The
-soldier reeking from the battle, and in search of
-some nook in which to pray for his little ones
-and die? The maiden, fleeing from royal lust,
-and her father outlawed by royal vengeance?
-What tales were brought when the neighbouring
-stems mouldered away, and left space for the
-winds to enter with their tidings from afar?
-Rumours of heaped battle-fields across the sea,
-and of the murmurings of the oppressed in their
-comfortless homes, and the indignant remonstrance
-of captives silenced in their proclamation
-of the truth? And then, did weary sailors come
-up from the sea, and, while they rested, talk of
-peace? And merchants of prosperity? And
-labourers of better days?—And now that the
-old oak yields but a scanty shade,—children come
-to pick up its acorns, and to make a ladder of its
-mouldering sides; and even these infant tongues
-can tell of what the people feel, and what the
-people intend, and what the King desires for the
-people, and what the ministers propose for the
-people. The old oak has lived to see the people’s
-day.—O! may the breath of heaven stir it
-lightly;—may the spring rains fall softly as the
-wintry snow;—may the thunderbolt spare it,
-and the flash not dare to crisp its lightest leaf,
-that it may endure to witness something of that
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.124'>124</span>which is yet to come!—of the wisdom which shall
-issue sternly from the abyss of poverty, smoothing
-its rugged brow as it mounts to a milder and
-brighter region; and of pleasure descending from
-her painted cloud, sobering her mien as she visits
-rank below rank, till she takes up her abode with
-the lowliest in the form of content. If every
-stone of yonder Abbey can be made to murmur
-like the sea-shell to the awakened ear, disclosing
-echoes of the requiems of ages, yet more may
-this oak whisper from every leaf its records of
-individual sorrows, of mutual hopes, and now of
-common rejoicing;—a rejoicing which yet has
-more in it of hope than of fulfilment. The day
-of the people is come. The old oak survives to
-complete its annals,—the Abbey has place for a
-record—whether the people are wise to use their
-day for the promotion of the great objects of
-national association,—public order and social
-improvement.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It was too late to dine at G.’s; so Reid
-turned into the Abbey, and staid there till his own
-footfall was the only sound that entertained the
-bodily ear.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.125'>125</span><i>Summary of Principles illustrated in
-this volume.</i></p>
-
-<p class='c001'>It is necessary to the security and advancement
-of a community that there should be an
-expenditure of a portion of its wealth for purposes
-of defence, of public order, and of social
-improvement.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>As public expenditure, though necessary, is
-unproductive, it must be limited. And, as the
-means of such expenditure are furnished by the
-people for defined objects, its limit is easily ascertained.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>That expenditure alone which is necessary to
-defence, public order, and social improvement,
-is justifiable.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Such a direction of the public expenditure
-can be secured only by the public functionaries
-who expend being made fully responsible to
-the party in whose behalf they expend.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>For want of this responsibility, the public
-expenditure of an early age,—determined to
-pageantry, war, and favouritism,—was excessive,
-and perpetrated by the few in defiance of the
-many.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>For want of a due degree of this responsibility,
-the public expenditure of an after age,—determined
-to luxury, war, and patronage,—was
-excessive, and perpetrated by the few in
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.126'>126</span>fear of the many, by deceiving and defrauding
-them.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>For want of a due degree of this responsibility,
-the public expenditure of the present age,—determined
-chiefly to the sustaining of burdens
-imposed by a preceding age,—perpetuates
-many abuses: and, though much ameliorated
-by the less unequal distribution of power, the
-public expenditure is yet as far from being
-regulated to the greatest advantage of the
-many, as the many are from exacting due responsibility
-and service from the few.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>When this service and responsibility shall be
-duly exacted, there will be—</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Necessary offices only, whose duties will be
-clearly defined, fully accounted for, and liberally
-rewarded:</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Little patronage, and that little at the disposal
-of the people:</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>No pomp,—at the expense of those who
-can barely obtain support: but</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>Liberal provisions for the advancement of
-national industry and intelligence.</p>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c000'>
-</div>
-<p class='c001'><a id='endnote'></a></p>
-<div class='tnotes'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c0'>
- <div class='nf-center'>
- <div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c001'>Hyphens appearing on a line or page break have beem removed if the
-preponderance of other occurrences are unhyphenated. Those words
-occurring midline are retained regardless of other occurrences.
-The following variants were retained: schoolhouse / school-house,
-grandchild / grand-child, eyebrows / eye-brows, evildoers / evil-doers,
-bedside / bed-side, headache / head-ache.</p>
-
-<p class='c001'>On some occasions, a word spans a line break, but the hyphen itself
-has gone missing. These fragments are joined appropriately without further
-notice here.</p>
-
-<p class='c018'>Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and
-are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.</p>
-
-<table class='table2'>
-<colgroup>
-<col class='colwidth12'>
-<col class='colwidth69'>
-<col class='colwidth18'>
-</colgroup>
- <tr>
- <td class='c019' colspan='3'>BRIERY CREEK.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c020' colspan='3'> </td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_26.21'></a><a href='#corr26.21'>26.21</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>[“]There goes Dods!</td>
- <td class='c020'>Removed.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_73.20'></a><a href='#corr73.20'>73.20</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>if it did not come too late.[”]</td>
- <td class='c020'>Added.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_94.5'></a><a href='#corr94.5'>94.5</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>Dr. Sneyd was very thankf[n/u]l> for his aid.</td>
- <td class='c020'>Inverted.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_97.3'></a><a href='#corr97.3'>97.3</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>she had grown p[ro/or]megranates</td>
- <td class='c020'>Transposed.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_101.10'></a><a href='#corr101.10'>101.10</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>a damsel dressed in tawd[r]y finery</td>
- <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_109.10'></a><a href='#corr109.10'>109.10</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>which must give way.[”]</td>
- <td class='c020'>Removed.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_152.3'></a><a href='#corr152.3'>152.3</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>to be so remembered.[”]</td>
- <td class='c020'>Added.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c020' colspan='3'> </td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c019' colspan='3'>THE THREE AGES.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_50.27'></a><a href='#corr50.27'>50.27</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>for his Maje[s]ty’s service was more</td>
- <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_55.2'></a><a href='#corr55.2'>55.2</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>in order to build[ing] a new one</td>
- <td class='c020'>Removed.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'><a id='c_97.10'></a><a href='#corr97.10'>97.10</a></td>
- <td class='c021'>the animal should be immediately sacrifi[c]ed</td>
- <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class='c021'> </td>
- <td class='c021'> </td>
- <td class='c020'> </td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-</div>
-
-<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***</div>
- </body>
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} + .htmlonly {visibility: visible; display: inline; } + .x-ebookmaker .htmlonly { visibility: hidden; display: none; } + .x-ebookmaker .epubonly { visibility: visible; display: inline; } + .column-container{ margin: auto; clear: both; } + .left { display: inline-block; text-align: left; vertical-align: bottom; + width:49%; } + .right { display: inline-block; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; width:49%; + } + ins.correction { text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray; } + .quote { font-size: 95%; margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em; } + .linegroup .group { margin: 0em auto; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c000'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>Transcriber’s Note:</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c001'>The volume is a collection of three already published texts, +each with its own title page and pagination.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please +see the transcriber’s <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text +for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered +during its preparation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The image of the blank front cover has been cleaned up and enhanced +with basic data from the title page, and, so modified, is placed in the +public domain.</p> + +<div class='htmlonly'> + +<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated using an <ins class='correction' title='original'>underline</ins> +highlight. Placing the cursor over the correction will produce the +original text in a small popup.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> +<div class='epubonly'> + +<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated as hyperlinks, which will navigate the +reader to the corresponding entry in the corrections table in the +note at the end of the text.</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h1 class='c002'>ILLUSTRATIONS <br> <span class='small'>OF</span> <br> POLITICAL ECONOMY.</h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div> + <div>HARRIET MARTINEAU.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div>——o——</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div>BRIERY CREEK.</div> + <div>THE THREE AGES.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div>——o——</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><i>IN NINE VOLUMES.</i></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>VOL. VIII.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>LONDON:</div> + <div>CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW.</div> + <div>MDCCCXXXIV.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>LONDON:</div> + <div class='c000'>Printed by <span class='sc'>William Clowes</span>,</div> + <div class='c000'>Duke-street, Lambeth.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_I'>I</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS.</h2> +</div> + +<hr class='c006'> + +<table class='table0'> +<colgroup> +<col class='colwidth8'> +<col class='colwidth37'> +<col class='colwidth6'> +<col class='colwidth4'> +<col class='colwidth37'> +<col class='colwidth6'> +</colgroup> + <tr> + <td class='c007' colspan='6'><a href='#v1'>BRIERY CREEK.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><span class='small'>CHAP.</span></td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='brt c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td> + <td class='c007'><span class='small'>CHAP.</span></td> + <td class='c010'> </td> + <td class='c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>1.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Philosopher at Home</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.1'>1</a></td> + <td class='c007'>5.</td> + <td class='c010'>Introductions</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.5'>94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>2.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Gentleman at Home</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.2'>22</a></td> + <td class='c007'>6.</td> + <td class='c010'>A Father’s Hope</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.6'>122</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>3.</td> + <td class='c008'>Saturday Morning</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.3'>46</a></td> + <td class='c007'>7.</td> + <td class='c010'>The End of the Matter</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#ch1.7'>142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>4.</td> + <td class='c008'>Sunday Evening</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch1.4'>65</a></td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c010'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='brt c009'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c010'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007' colspan='6'><a href='#v2'>THE THREE AGES..</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='brt c009'> </td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c010'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>1.</td> + <td class='c008'>First Age</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch2.1'>1</a></td> + <td class='c007'>3.</td> + <td class='c010'>Third Age</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#ch2.3'>93</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>2.</td> + <td class='c008'>Second Age</td> + <td class='brt c009'><a href='#ch2.2'>35</a></td> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c010'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_1.01'>01</span> + <h2 id='v1' class='c005'>BRIERY CREEK.</h2> +</div> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.1' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter I.</span> <br> <br> THE PHILOSOPHER AT HOME.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>The sun,—the bright sun of May in the western +world,—was going down on the village of Briery +Creek, and there was scarcely a soul left within +its bounds to observe how the shadows lengthened +on the prairie, except Dr. Sneyd; and Dr. Sneyd +was too busy to do justice to the spectacle. It +was very long since letters and newspapers had +been received from England; the rains had interfered +with the post; and nothing had been +heard at the settlement for a month of what the +minister was planning in London, and what the +populace was doing in Paris. Dr. Sneyd had +learned, in this time, much that was taking place +among the worlds overhead; and he now began +to be very impatient for tidings respecting the +Old World, on which he had been compelled to +turn his back, at the moment when its political +circumstances began to be the most interesting +to him. There had been glimpses of starlight in +the intervals of the shifting spring storms, and he +had betaken himself, not in vain, to his observatory; +but no messenger, with precious leathern +bag, had appeared on the partial cessation of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.02'>02</span>rains to open, beyond the clouds of the political +hemisphere, views of the silent rise or sure progress +of bright moral truths behind the veil of prejudice +and passion which was for a season obscuring +their lustre. Day after day had anxious +eyes been fixed on the ford of the creek; night +after night had the doctor risen, and looked abroad +in starlight and in gloom, when the dogs were +restless in the court, or a fancied horse-tread was +heard in the grassy road before the house.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This evening Dr. Sneyd was taking resolution +to file the last newspapers he had received, and to +endorse and put away the letters which, having +been read till not an atom more of meaning could +be extracted from them, might now be kept in +some place where they would be safer from friction +than in a philosopher’s pocket. The filing +the newspapers was done with his usual method +and alacrity, but his hand shook while endorsing +the last of his letters; and he slowly opened the +sheet, to look once more at the signature,—not +from sentiment, and because it was the signature +(for Dr. Sneyd was not a man of sentiment),—but +in order to observe once again whether there +had been any such tremulousness in the hand +that wrote it as might affect the chance of the +two old friends meeting again in this world: the +chance which he was unwilling to believe so +slight as it appeared to Mrs. Sneyd, and his son +Arthur, and every body else. Nothing more was +discoverable from the writing, and the key was +resolutely turned upon the letter. The next +glance fell upon the materials of a valuable telescope, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.03'>03</span>which lay along one side of the room, +useless till some glasses should arrive to replace +those which had been broken during the rough +journey to this remote settlement. Piece by piece +was handled, fitted, and laid down again. Then +a smile passed over the philosopher’s countenance +as his eye settled on the filmy orb of the moon, +already showing itself, though the sun had not +yet touched the western verge of the prairie. It +was something to have the same moon to look +at through the same telescopes as when he was +not alone in science, in the depths of a strange +continent. The face of the land had changed; +he had become but too well acquainted with the +sea; a part of the heavens themselves had passed +away, and new worlds of light come before him +in their stead; but the same sun shone in at the +south window of his study; the same moon +waxed and waned above his observatory; and he +was eager to be once more recognising her volcanoes +and plains through the instrument which +he had succeeded in perfecting for use. This +reminded him to note down in their proper places +the results of his last observations; and in a single +minute, no symptom remained of Dr. Sneyd having +old friends whom he longed to see on the +other side of the world; or of his having suffered +from the deferred hope of tidings; or of his feeling +impatient about his large telescope; or of any +thing but his being engrossed in his occupation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Yet he heard the first gentle tap at the south +window, and, looking over his spectacles at the +little boy who stood outside, found time to bid +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.04'>04</span>him come in and wait for liberty to talk. The +doctor went on writing, the smile still on his +face, and Temmy,—in other words, Temple Temple, +heir of Temple Lodge,—crept in at the window, +and stole quietly about the room to amuse +himself, till his grandfather should be at liberty +to attend to him. While the pen scratched the +paper, and ceased, and scratched again, Temmy +walked along the bookshelves, and peeped into +the cylinder of the great telescope, and cast a +frightened look behind him on having the misfortune +to jingle some glasses, and then slid into +the low arm-chair to study for the hundredth +time the prints that hung opposite,—the venerable +portraits of his grandfather’s two most intimate +friends. Temmy had learned to look on +these wise men of another hemisphere with much +of the same respect as on the philosophers of a +former age. His grandfather appeared to him +incalculably old, and unfathomably wise; and it +was his grandfather’s own assurance that these +two philosophers were older and wiser still. When +to this was added the breadth of land and sea +across which they dwelt, it was no wonder that, +in the eyes of the boy, they had the sanctity of +the long-buried dead.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Where is your grandmamma, Temmy?” asked +Dr. Sneyd, at length, putting away his papers. +“Do you know whether she is coming to take a +walk with me?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I cannot find her,” said the boy. “I went all +round the garden, and through the orchard——”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And into the poultry yard?”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.05'>05</span>“Yes; and every where else. All the doors +are open, and the place quite empty. There is +nobody at home here, nor in all the village, except +at our house.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“All gone to the squirrel-hunt; or rather to +meet the hunters, for the sport must be over by +this time; but your grandmamma does not hunt +squirrels. We must turn out and find her. I +dare say she is gone to the Creek to look for the +postman.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy hoped that all the squirrels were not +to be shot. Though there had been far too many +lately, he should be sorry if they were all to disappear.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You will have your own two, in their pretty +cage, at any rate, Temmy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy’s tearful eyes, twisted fingers, and +scarlet colour, said the “no” he could not speak +at the moment. Grandpapa liked to get at the +bottom of every thing; and he soon discovered +that the boy’s father had, for some reason unknown, +ordered that no more squirrels should be +seen in his house, and that the necks of Temmy’s +favourites should be wrung. Temmy had no +other favourites instead. He did not like to +begin with any new ones without knowing +whether he might keep them; and he had not +yet asked his papa what he might be permitted +to have.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We must all have patience, Temmy, about +our favourites. I have had a great disappointment +about one of mine.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.06'>06</span>Temmy brushed away his tears to hear what +favourites grandpapa could have. Neither cat, +nor squirrel, nor bird had ever met his eye in +this house; and the dogs in the court were for +use, not play.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd pointed to his large telescope, and +said that the cylinder, without the lenses, was to +him no more than a cage without squirrels would +be to Temmy.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“But you will have the glasses by and by, +grandpapa, and I——”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes; I hope to have them many months +hence, when the snow is thick on the ground, +and the sleigh can bring me my packages of +glass without breaking them, as the last were +broken that came over the log road. But all +this time the stars are moving over our heads; +and in these fine spring evenings I should like +very much to be finding out many things that I +must remain ignorant of till next year; and I +cannot spare a whole year now so well as when +I was younger.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Cannot you do something while you are +waiting?” was Temmy’s question. His uncle +Arthur would have been as much diverted at it as +Dr. Sneyd himself was; for the fact was, Dr. +Sneyd had always twice as much planned to be +done as any body thought he could get through. +Temmy did not know what a large book he was +writing; nor how much might be learned by +means of the inferior instruments; nor what a +number of books the philosopher was to read +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.07'>07</span>through, nor how large a correspondence was to +be carried on, before the snow could be on the +ground again.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Now let us walk to the creek” was a joyful +sound to the boy, who made haste to find the +doctor’s large straw hat. When the philosopher +had put it on, over his thin grey hair, he turned +towards one of his many curious mirrors, and +laughed at his own image.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Temmy,” said he, “do you remember me +before I wore this large hat? Do you remember +my great wig?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O yes, and the black, three-cornered hat. I +could not think who you were the first day I met +you without that wig. But I think I never saw +any body else with such a wig.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And in England they would not know what +to make of me without it. I was just thinking +how Dr. Rogers would look at me, if he could +see me now; he would call me quite an American,—very +like a republican.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Are you an American? Are you a republican?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I was a republican in England, and in +France, and wherever I have been, as much as I +am now. As to being an American, I suppose +I must call myself one; but I love England very +dearly, Temmy. I had rather live there than +any where, if it were but safe for me; but we can +make ourselves happy here. Whatever happens, +we always find afterwards, or shall find when we +are wiser, is for our good. Some people at home +have made a great mistake about me; but all +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.08'>08</span>mistakes will be cleared up some time or other, +my dear; and in the mean while, we must not +be angry with one another, though we cannot +help being sorry for what has happened.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I think uncle Arthur is very angry indeed. +He said one day that he would never live among +those people in England again.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I dare say there will be no reason for his +living there; but he has promised me to forgive +them for misunderstanding and disliking me. +And you must promise me the same thing when +you grow old enough to see what such a promise +means.—Come here, my dear. Stand just where +I do, and look up under the eaves. Do you see +anything?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, I see a little bird moving!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy could not tell what bird it was. He +was a rather dull child—usually called uncommonly +stupid—as indeed he too often appeared. +Whither his wits strayed from the midst of the +active little world in which he lived, where the +wits of everybody else were lively enough, no one +could tell—if, indeed, he had any wits. His +father thought it impossible that Temple Temple, +heir of Temple Lodge and its fifty thousand +acres, should not grow up a very important personage. +Mrs. Temple had an inward persuasion, +that no one understood the boy but herself. Dr. +Sneyd did not profess so to understand children +as to be able to compare Temmy with others, but +thought him a good little fellow, and had no +doubt he would do very well. Mrs. Sneyd’s +hopes and fears on the boy’s account varied, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.09'>09</span>while her tender pity was unremitting: and uncle +Arthur was full of indignation at Temple for +cowing the child’s spirit, and thus blunting his +intellect. To all other observers it was but too +evident that Temmy did not know a martin from +a crow, or a sycamore from a thorn.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That bird is a martin, come to build under +our eaves, my dear. If we were to put up a box, I +dare say the bird would begin to build in it directly.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy was for putting up a box, and his +grandpapa for furnishing him with favourites +which should be out of sight and reach of Mr. +Temple. In two minutes, therefore, the philosopher +was mounted on a high stool, whence he +could reach the low eaves; and Temmy was vibrating +on tiptoe, holding up at arms’ length that +which, being emptied of certain mysterious curiosities, +(which might belong either to grandpapa’s +apparatus of science, or grandmamma’s of housewifery,) +was now destined to hold the winged +curiosities which were flitting round during the +operation undertaken on their behalf.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Before descending, the doctor looked about +him, on the strange sight of a thriving uninhabited village. +Everybody seemed to be out +after the squirrel hunters. When, indeed, the +higher ground near the Creek was attained, +Dr. Sneyd perceived that Mr. Temple’s family +was at home. On the terrace was the gentleman +himself, walking backwards and forwards in +his usual after-dinner state. His lady (Dr. +Sneyd’s only daughter) was stooping among her +flowers, while Ephraim, the black boy, was attending +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.10'>10</span>at her heels, and the figures of other +servants popped into sight and away again, as +they were summoned and dismissed by their +master. The tavern, kept by the surgeon of the +place, stood empty, if it might be judged by its +open doors, where no one went in and out. Dods +was not to be seen in the brick-ground; which +was a wonder, as Dods was a hard-working man, +and his task of making bricks for Mr. Temple’s +grand alterations had been so much retarded by +the late rains that it was expected of Dods that +he would lose not a day nor an hour while the +weather continued fair. Mrs. Dods was not at +work under her porch, as usual, at this hour; nor +was the young lawyer, Mr. Johnson, flitting from +fence to fence of the cottages on the prairie, to +gather up and convey the news of what had befallen +since morning. About the rude dwelling +within the verge of the forest, there was the usual +fluttering of fowls and yelping of dogs; but +neither was the half-savage woodsman (only +known by the name of Brawn) to be seen loitering +about with his axe, nor were his equally uncivilized +daughters (the Brawnees) at their sugar +troughs under the long row of maples. The +Indian corn seemed to have chosen its own place +for springing, and to be growing untended; so +rude were the fences which surrounded it, and so +rank was the prairie grass which struggled with +it for possession of the furrows. The expanse of +the prairie was undiversified with a single living +thing. A solitary tree, or a cluster of bushes +here and there, was all that broke the uniformity +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.11'>11</span>of the grassy surface, as far as the horizon, where +the black forest rose in an even line, and seemed +to seclude the region within its embrace. There +was not such an absence of sound as of motion. +The waters of the Creek, to which Dr. Sneyd and +Temmy were proceeding, dashed along, swollen +by the late rains, and the flutter and splash of +wild fowl were heard from their place of assemblage,—the +riffle of the Creek, or the shallows +formed by the unevenness of its rocky bottom. +There were few bird-notes heard in the forest; +but the horses of the settlement were wandering +there, with bells about their necks. The breezes +could find no entrance into the deep recesses of +the woods; but they whispered in their play +among the wild vines that hung from a height of +fifty feet. There was a stir also among the rhododendrons, +thickets of which were left to flourish +on the borders of the wood; and with their rustle +in the evening wind were mingled the chirping, +humming, and buzzing of an indistinguishable +variety of insects on the wing and among the +grass.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I see grandmamma coming out of Dods’s +porch,” cried Temmy. “What has she been +there for, all alone?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I believe she has been the round of the cottages, +feeding the pigs and fowls, because the +neighbours are away. This is like your grandmamma, +and it explains her being absent so long. +You see what haste she is making towards us. +Now tell me whether you hear anything on the +other side of the Creek.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.12'>12</span>Temmy heard something, but he could not say +what,—whether winds, or waters, or horses, or insects, +or all these. Dr. Sneyd thought he heard cart +wheels approaching along the smooth natural road +which led out of the forest upon the prairie. The +light, firm soil of this kind of road was so favourable +for carriages, that they did not give the rumbling +and creaking notice of their approach which is +common on the log road which intersects a +marsh. The post messenger was the uppermost +person in Dr. Sneyd’s thoughts just now, whether +waggon wheels or horse tread greeted his ear. +He was partly right and partly wrong in his present +conjectures. A waggon appeared from +among the trees, but it contained nobody whom +he could expect to be the bearer of letters;—nobody +but Arthur’s assistant Isaac, accompanied +by Mr. Temple’s black man Julian, bringing +home a stock of groceries and other comforts +from a distant store, to which they had been sent +to make purchases.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The vehicle came to a halt on the opposite +ridge; and no wonder, for it was not easy to see +how it was to make further progress. The Creek +was very fine to look at in its present state; but +it was anything but tempting to travellers. The +water, which usually ran clear and shallow, when +there was more than enough to fill the deep holes +in its bed, now brought mud from its source, +and bore on its troubled surface large branches, +and even trunks of trees. It was so much swollen +from the late rains that its depth was not easily +ascertainable; but many a brier which had lately +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.13'>13</span>overhung its course from the bank was now +swaying in its current, and looking lost in a new +element. Isaac and Julian by turns descended +the bank to the edge of the water, but could not +learn thereby whether or not it was fordable. +Their next proceeding was to empty the cart, +and drive into the flood by way of experiment.—The +water only half filled the vehicle, and the +horse kept his footing admirably, so that it was +only to drive back again, and to bring the goods,—some +on the dry seat of the waggon, and some +on the backs of Isaac and Julian, as the +one drove, and the other took care of the +packages within. Two trips, it was thought, +would suffice to bring over the whole, high and +dry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What are you all about here?” asked Mrs. +Sneyd, who had come up unobserved while her +husband and grandchild were absorbed in watching +the passage of the Creek. “The goods +arriving! Bless me! I hope they will get over +safely. It would be too provoking if poor +Arthur should lose his first batch of luxuries. +He has lived so long on Indian corn bread, and +hominy, and wild turkeys, and milk, that it is +time he should be enjoying his meal of wheaten +bread and tea.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And the cloth for his new coat is there, +grandmamma.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes; and plenty of spice and other good +things for your papa. I do not know what he +will say if they are washed away; but I care +much more for your coffee, my dear,” continued +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.14'>14</span>she, turning to the doctor. “I am afraid your +observations and authorship will suffer for want +of your coffee. Do try and make Isaac hear +that he is to take particular care of the coffee.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not I, my dear,” replied Dr. Sneyd, laughing. +“I would advocate Arthur’s affairs, if any. +But the men seem to be taking all possible care. +I should advise their leaving the goods and cart +together on the other side, but that I rather +think, there will be more rain before morning, so +as to make matters worse to-morrow, besides +the risk of a soaking during the night. Here +they come! Now for it! How they dash down +the bank! There! They will upset the cart if +they do not take care.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That great floating tree will upset them. +What a pity they did not see it in time! There! +I thought so.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The mischief was done. The trunk, with a +new rush of water, was too much for the light +waggon. It turned over on its side, precipitating +driver, Julian, and all the packages into the +muddy stream. The horse scrambled and struggled +till Isaac could regain his footing, and set +the animal free, while Julian was dashing the +water from his face, and snatching at one package +after another as they eddied round him, preparatory +to being carried down the Creek.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd caught the frightened horse, as he +scampered up the briery bank. Mrs. Sneyd +shouted a variety of directions which would have +been excellent, if they could have been heard; +while Temmy stood looking stupid.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.15'>15</span>“Call help, my dear boy,” said Dr. Sneyd.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Where? I do not know where to go.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do you hear the popping of guns in the +wood? Some of the hunters are coming back. +Go and call them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Where? I do not know which way.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“In the direction of the guns, my dear. In +that quarter, near the large hickory. I think +you will find them there.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy did not know a hickory by sight; but +he could see which way Dr. Sneyd’s finger +pointed; and he soon succeeded in finding the +party, and bringing them to the spot.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Arthur, I am very sorry,” said the doctor, on +seeing his son come running to view the disaster. +“Mortal accidents, my dear son! We must +make up our minds to them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes, father, when they are purely accidents: +but this is carelessness,—most provoking +carelessness.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Indeed, the men did make trial of what they +were about,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The great tree came down so very fast!” +added Temmy.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes. I am not blaming Isaac. It was +my carelessness in not throwing a bridge over +the Creek long ago. Never mind that now! Let +us save what we can.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was a sorry rescue. The cart was broken, +but it could be easily mended. The much-longed-for +wheaten flour appeared in the shape of a sack +of soiled pulp, which no one would think of swallowing. +The coffee might be dried. The tea +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.16'>16</span>was not altogether past hope. Sugar, salt, and +starch, were melted into one mass. Mr. Temple’s +spices were supposed to be by this time perfuming +the stream two miles below; his wax candles +were battered, so that they could, at best, be used +only as short ends; and the oil for his hall +lamps was diffusing a calm over the surface of +the stream. Mrs. Sneyd asked her husband +whether some analogous appliance could not be +found for the proprietor’s ruffled temper, when he +should hear of the disaster.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The news could not be long in reaching him, +for the other party of squirrel-hunters, bringing +with them all the remaining women and children +of the village, appeared from the forest, and the +tidings spread from mouth to mouth. As soon +as Temmy saw that Uncle Arthur was standing +still, and looking round him for a moment, he +put one of his mistimed questions, at the end of +divers remarks.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“How many squirrels have you killed, uncle? +I do not think you can have killed any at all; +we saw so many as we came up here! Some +were running along your snake fence, uncle; +and grandpapa says they were not of the same +kind as those that run up the trees. But we saw +a great many run up the trees, too. I dare say, +half a dozen or a dozen. How many have you +killed, uncle?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Forty-one. The children there will tell you +all about it.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Forty-one! And how many did David kill? +And your whole party, uncle?”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.17'>17</span>Arthur gave the boy a gentle push towards +the sacks of dead squirrels, and Temmy, having +no notion why or how he had been troublesome, +amused himself with pitying the slaughtered animals, +and stroking his cheeks with the brushes of +more than a hundred of them. He might have +gone on to the whole number bagged,—two +hundred and ninety-three,—if his attention had not +been called off by the sudden silence which preceded +a speech from uncle Arthur.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Neighbours,” said Arthur, “I take the +blame of this mischance upon myself. I will not +say that some of you might not have reminded +me to bridge the Creek, before I spent my time +and money on luxuries that we could have waited +for a while longer; but the chief carelessness +was mine, I freely own. It seems a strange time +to choose for asking a favour of you——”</p> + +<p class='c001'>He was interrupted by many a protestation +that his neighbours were ready to help to bridge +the Creek; that it was the interest of all that +the work should be done, and not a favour to +himself alone. He went on:—</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I was going to say that when it happens to +you, as now to me, that you wish to exchange +the corn that you grow for something that our +prairies do not produce, you will feel the want of +such a bridge as much as I do now; though I hope +through a less disagreeable experience. In self-defence, +I must tell you, however, how little able +I have been till lately to provide any but the +barest necessaries for myself and my men. This +will show you that I cannot now pay you for the +work you propose to do.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.18'>18</span>He was interrupted by assurances that nobody +wanted to be paid; that they would have a bridging +frolic, as they had before had a raising frolic +to build the surgeon’s tavern, and a rolling frolic +to clear Brawn’s patch of ground, and as they +meant to have a reaping frolic when the corn +should be ripe. It should be a pic-nic. Nobody +supposed that Arthur had yet meat, bread, and +whisky to spare.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I own that I have not,” said he. “You +know that when I began to till my ground, I had +no more capital than was barely sufficient to +fence and break up my fields, and feed me and +my two labourers while my first crop was growing. +Just before it ripened, I had nothing left; +but what I had spent was well spent. It proved a +productive consumption indeed; for my harvest +brought back all I had spent, with increase. This +increase was not idly consumed by me. I began +to pay attention to my cattle, improved my farm +buildings, set up a kiln, and employed a labourer +in making bricks. The fruits of my harvest were +thus all consumed; but they were again restored +with increase. Then I thought I might begin to +indulge myself with the enjoyment for which I +had toiled so long and so hard. I did not labour +merely to have so much corn in my barns, but to +enjoy the corn, and whatever else it would bring +me,—as we all do,—producing, distributing, and +exchanging, that we may afterwards enjoy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not quite all, Mr. Arthur,” said Johnson, +the lawyer. “There is your brother-in-law, Mr. +Temple, who seems disposed to enjoy everything, +without so much as soiling his fingers with gathering +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.19'>19</span>a peach. And there is a certain friend of ours, +settled farther east, who toils like a horse, and +lives like a beggar, that he may hoard a roomful +of dollars.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Temple produces by means of the hoarded +industry of his fathers,—by means of his capital,” +replied Arthur. “And the miser you speak +of enjoys his dollars, I suppose, or he would +change them away for something else. Well, +friends, there is little temptation for us to hoard +up our wealth. We have corn instead of dollars, +and corn will not keep like dollars.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Why should it?” asked Dods the brickmaker. +“Who would take the trouble to raise more corn +than he wants to eat, if he did not hope to exchange +it for something desirable?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Very true. Then comes the question, what +a man shall choose in exchange. I began pretty +well. I laid out some of my surplus in providing +for a still greater next year; which, in my circumstances, +was my first duty. Then I began +to look to the end for which I was working; and +I reached forward to it a little too soon. I should +have roasted my corn ears and drank milk a +little longer, and expended my surplus on a +bridge, before I thought of wheaten flour and tea +and coffee.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Three months hence,” said somebody, “you +will be no worse off (except for the corn ears +and milk you must consume instead of flour and +tea) than if you had had your wish. Your flour +and tea would have been clean gone by that +time, without any return.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You grant that I must go without the pleasure,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.20'>20</span>said Arthur, smiling. “Never mind that. +But you will not persuade me that it is not a clear +loss to have flour spoiled, and sugar and salt +melted together in the creek; unless, indeed, they +go to fatten the fish in the holes. Besides, there +is the mortification of feeling that your toil in +making this bridge might have been paid with +that which is lost in the purchase of luxuries +which none will enjoy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Being vehemently exhorted to let this consideration +give him no concern, he concluded,</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I will take your advice, thank you. I will +not trouble myself or you more about this loss; +and I enlarge upon it now only because it +may be useful to us as a lesson how to use the +fruits of our labour. I have been one of the foremost +to laugh at our neighbours in the next settlement +for having,—not their useful frolics, like +ours of to-morrow,—but their shooting-matches +and games in the wood, when the water was so +bad that it was a grievance to have to drink it. +I was as ready as any one to see that the labour +spent on these pastimes could not be properly +afforded, if there were really no hands to spare to +dig wells. And now, instead of asking them when +they mean to have their welling frolic, our wisest +way will be to get our bridge up before there is +time for our neighbours to make a laughing-stock +of us. When that is done, I shall be far from +satisfied. I shall still feel that it is owing to me +that my father goes without his coffee, while he +is watching through the night when we common +men are asleep.</p> + +<p class='c001'>”That is as much Temple’s concern as the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.21'>21</span>young man’s," observed the neighbours one to +another. “Freely as he flings his money about, +one would think Temple might see that the doctor +was at least as well supplied with luxuries as +himself.” “Why the young man should be left +to toil and make capital so painfully and slowly, +when Temple squanders so much, is a mystery to +every body.” "A quarter of what Temple has +spent in making and unmaking his garden would +have enabled Arthur Sneyd’s new field to produce +double, or have improved his team; and Temple +himself would have been all the better for the +interest it would have yielded, instead of his +money bringing no return. But Temple is not +the man to lend a helping hand to a young +farmer,—be he his brother-in-law or a mere +stranger."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Such were the remarks which Arthur was not +supposed to hear, and to which he did not therefore +consider himself called upon to reply. +Seeing his father and mother in eager consultation +with the still dripping Isaac, he speedily +completed the arrangements for the next day’s +meeting, toils, and pleasures, and joined the +group. Isaac had but just recollected that in +his pocket he brought a packet of letters and +several newspapers, which had found their way, +in some circuitous manner, to the store where he +had been trafficking. The whole were deplorably +soaked with mud. It seemed doubtful whether a +line of the writing could ever be made out. But +Mrs. Sneyd’s cleverness had been proved equal +to emergencies nearly as great as this. She had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.22'>22</span>once got rid of the stains of a stand full of ink +which had been overset on a parchment which +bore a ten-guinea stamp. She had recovered the +whole to perfect smoothness, and fitness to be +written upon. Many a time had she contrived +to restore the writing which had been discharged +from her father’s manuscript chemical lectures, +when spillings from his experiments had occurred +scarcely half an hour before the lecture-room +began to fill. No wonder her husband was now +willing to confide in her skill—no wonder he +was anxious to see Temmy home as speedily as +possible, that he might watch the processes of +dipping and drying and unfolding, on which +depended almost the dearest of his enjoyments,—intercourse +with faithful friends far away.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.2' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter II.</span> <br> <br> THE GENTLEMAN AT HOME.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>Master Temple Temple was up early, and +watching the weather, the next morning, with far +more eagerness than his father would have +approved, unless some of his own gentlemanlike +pleasures had been in question. If Mr. Temple +had known that his son and heir cared for the +convenience of his industrious uncle Arthur, and +of a parcel of labourers, the boy would hardly +have escaped a long lecture on the depravity of +his tastes, and the vulgarity of his sympathies. +But Mr. Temple knew nothing that passed prior +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.23'>23</span>to his own majestic descent to the breakfast-room, +where the silver coffee-pot was steaming fragrantly, +and the windows were carefully opened or scrupulously +shut, so as to temper the visitations of +the outward air, while his lady sat awaiting his +mood, and trembling lest he should find nothing +that he could eat among the variety of forms of +diet into which the few elements at the command +of her cook had been combined. Mrs. Temple +had never been very happy while within reach of +markets and shops; but she was now often tempted +to believe that almost all her troubles would be at +an end if she had but the means of indulging +her husband’s fastidious appetite. It was a real +misery to be for ever inventing, and for ever in +vain, new cookeries of Indian corn, beef, lean +pork, geese and turkeys, honey and milk. +Beyond these materials, she had nothing to +depend upon but chance arrivals of flour, pickles, +and groceries; and awfully passed the day when +there was any disappointment at breakfast. She +would willingly have surrendered her conservatory, +her splendid ornaments, the pictures, plate, +and even the library of her house, and the many +thousand acres belonging to it, to give to her +husband such an unscrupulous appetite as +Arthur’s, or such a cheerful temper as Dr. Sneyd’s. +It was hard that her husband’s ill-humour about +his privations should fall upon her; for she was +not the one who did the deed, whatever it might +be, which drove the gentleman from English +society. The sacrifice was quite as great to her +as it could possibly be to him; and there was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.24'>24</span>inexpressible meanness in Temple’s aggravating, +by complaints of his own share, the suffering +which he had himself brought upon her. Temple +seemed always to think himself a great man, however; +and always greatest when causing the +utmost sensation in those about him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This morning, he stalked into the breakfast +room in remarkable state. He looked almost as +tall as his wife when about to speak to her, and +was as valiant in his threats against the people +who disturbed him by passing before his window, +as his son in planning his next encounter with +Brawn’s great turkey.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Come away from the window, this moment, +Temple. I desire you will never stand there +when the people are flocking past in this manner. +Nothing gratifies them more. They blow those +infernal horns for no other purpose than to draw +our attention. Ring the bell, Temple.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>When Marius appeared, in answer to the bell, +he was ordered to pull down that blind; and if +the people did not go away directly, to bid them +begone, and blow their horns somewhere out of +his hearing.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"They will be gone soon enough, sir. It is a +busy day with them. They are making a frolic +to bridge the Creek, because of what happened—"</p> + +<p class='c001'>A terrified glance of Mrs. Temple’s stopped +the man in his reference to what had taken place +the evening before. It was hoped that the stock +of coffee might be husbanded till more could +arrive, that the idea of chocolate might be insinuated +into the gentleman’s mind, and that the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.25'>25</span>shortness of the wax candles, and the deficiency +of light in the hall at night, might possibly escape +observation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The bridge over the Creek being much +wanted by every body, sir,” continued Marius, +"every body is joining the frolic to work at it; +that is, if——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not I, nor any of my people. Let me hear +no more about it, if you please. I have given +no orders to have a bridge built.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Marius withdrew. The cow-horns were presently +no longer heard—not that Marius had +done any thing to silence them. He knew that +the blowers were not thinking of either him or his +master; but merely passing to their place of rendezvous, +calling all frolickers together by the way.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Temple, you find you can live without your +squirrels, I hope,” said the tender father. “Now, +no crying! I will not have you cry.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Bring me your papa’s cup, my dear,” interposed +his mother; “and persuade him to try +these early strawberries. The gardener surprised +us this morning with a little plate of strawberries. +Tell your papa about the strawberries in the +orchard, my dear.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>In the intervals of sobs, and with streaming +eyes, Temmy told the happy news that strawberries +had spread under all the trees in the orchard, +and were so full of blossom, that the gardener +thought the orchard would soon look like a field +of white clover.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Wild strawberries, I suppose. Tasteless +trash!” was the remark upon this intelligence.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.26'>26</span>Before a more promising subject was started, +the door opened, and Dr. Sneyd appeared. Mr. +Temple hastened to rise, put away, with a prodigious +crackling and shuffling, the papers he +held, quickened Temmy’s motions in setting a +chair, and pressed coffee and strawberries on “the +old gentleman,” as he was wont to call Dr. Sneyd. +It was impossible that there could be much +sympathy between two men so unlike; but it +singularly happened that Dr. Sneyd had a +slighter knowledge than any body in the village +of the peculiarities of his son-in-law. He was +amused at some of his foibles, vexed at others, +and he sighed, at times, when he saw changes of +looks and temper creeping over his daughter, +and thought what she might have been with a +more suitable companion; but Temple stood in +so much awe of the philosopher as to appear a +somewhat different person before him and in any +other presence. Temmy now knew that he was +safe from misfortune for half an hour; and being +unwilling that grandpapa should see traces of +tears, he slipped behind the window blind, to +make his observations on the troop which was +gathering in the distance on the way to the creek. +He stood murmuring to himself,—"There goes +Big Brawn and the Brawnees! I never saw any +women like those Brawnees. I think they could +pull up a tall tree by the roots, if they tried. +I wonder when they will give me some more +honey to taste. <a id='corr26.21'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='“There'>There</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_26.21'><ins class='correction'>There</ins></a></span> goes Dods! He must +be tired before the frolic begins; for he has been +making bricks ever since it was light. I suppose +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.27'>27</span>he is afraid papa will be angry if he does +not make bricks as fast as he can. Papa was so +angry with the rain for spoiling his bricks +before! There goes David——" And so on, +through the entire population, out of the bounds +of Temple Lodge.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I came to ask,” said the doctor, “how many +of your men you can spare to this frolic to-day. +Arthur will be glad of all the assistance that can +be had, that the work may be done completely at +once.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The reply was, that Arthur seemed an enterprising +young man.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"He is: just made for his lot. But I ought +not to call this Arthur’s enterprise altogether. +The Creek is no more his than it is yours or mine. +The erection is for the common good, as the +disaster last night"—(a glance from Mrs. Temple +to her husband’s face, and a peep from Temmy, +from behind the blind)—“was, in fact, a common +misfortune.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Temple took snuff, and asked no questions +at present.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I have been telling my wife,” observed the +doctor, “that I am prodigiously tempted to try +the strength of my arm myself, to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I hope not, my dear sir. Your years——The +advancement of science, you know——Just +imagine its being told in Paris, among your +friends of the Institute, that you had been helping +to build a bridge! Temple, ring the bell."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Marius was desired to send Ephraim to receive +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.28'>28</span>his master’s commands. In a few minutes, the +door slowly opened, a strange metallic sound was +heard, and a little negro boy, stunted in form +and mean in countenance, stood bowing in the +presence.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Ephraim, go into the park field, and tell +Martin to send as many labourers as he can +spare to help to bridge the creek. And as you +come back——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>During this time, Dr. Sneyd had turned on his +chair to observe the boy. He now rose rapidly, +and went to convince himself that his eyes did +not deceive him. It was really true that the +right ankle and left wrist of the little lad were +connected by a light fetter.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Who has the key of this chain?” asked Dr. +Sneyd of his daughter, who, blushing scarlet, +looked towards her husband.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Give it me,” said the doctor, holding out his +hand.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Excuse me, my dear sir. You do not know +the boy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Very true: but that does not alter the case. +The key, if you please.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>After a moment’s hesitation, it was produced +from the waistcoat pocket. Dr. Sneyd set the +boy free, bade him make haste to do his master’s +bidding, and quietly doubling the chain, laid it +down on a distant table.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“He never made haste in his life, sir,” protested +Mr. Temple. “You do not know the lad, +sir, believe me.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I do not: and I am sorry to hear such an +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.29'>29</span>account of him. This is a place where no one +can be allowed to loiter and be idle.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Ephraim showed that he could make haste; +for he lost no time in getting out of the room, +when he had received his final orders. At the +moment, and for a few moments more, Dr. Sneyd +was relating to his daughter the contents of the +letters received from England the night before. +Mr. Temple meanwhile was stirring the fire, +flourishing his handkerchief, and summoning +courage to be angry with Dr. Sneyd.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do you know, sir,” said he, at length, "that +boy is my servant? Let me tell you, that for +one gentleman to interfere with another gentleman’s +servants is——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was listening so calmly, with his +hands resting on the head of his cane, that +Temple’s words, somehow or other, failed him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Such interference is——is——This boy, sir, +is my servant."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Your servant, but not your slave. Do you +know, Temple, it is I who might call you to +account, rather than you me. As one of the +same race with this boy, I have a right to call you +to account for making property of that which is +no property. There is no occasion, I trust, for +you and me to refer this matter to a magistrate: +but, till compelled to do so, I have a full right to +strike off chains wherever I meet with them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"You may meet with them in the woods, or as +far over the prairie as you are likely to walk, my +dear sir, for this lad is a notorious runaway: he +has escaped three times. Nothing short of such +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.30'>30</span>an offence could have made me do any thing +which might appear harsh. If he runs away +again, I assure you I shall be compelled to employ +the restraint in question: I give you warning +that I must. So, if you should meet him, thus +restrained, you know——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"O, yes; I shall know what to do. I shall +take off the chain that he may hie the faster.——I +see your conservatory is in great beauty. I imagine +you must have adopted Arthur’s notion +about warming it."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not Mr. Sneyd’s. O, no; it was Mrs. Temple’s +idea.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not originally; it was Arthur who advised +me,” declared Mrs. Temple. “I hope you will +soon have some of the benefit of his devices +about the kitchen-garden, father. The gardener +has orders to send you some of the first vegetables +and fruit that are ready for gathering; and +I am going to carry my mother some flowers to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I was about to ask when you will dine with +us,” said Dr. Sneyd. “I think it had better be +when some of the good things you speak of are +ready; for we have few luxuries to offer you. But +when will you come?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Temple was sorry that his time was now +so occupied with business,—his affairs at the +land-office, in addition to all his own concerns,—that +he could form no engagements. Mrs. Temple +would answer for herself and her son.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was not aware of this new occupation +of Mr. Temple’s. He was particularly glad +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.31'>31</span>to hear of it, and told it to his wife as a piece of +very good news, as soon as he got home. They +both hoped that their daughter would be all the +happier for her husband having something to do +and to think about, beyond his own affairs.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What is all this?” cried Mr. Temple, returning +from bowing out Dr. Sneyd with much civility. +“What accident happened last night, +pray?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>On being told of the upsetting of the waggon, +he was not the less angry for his internal consciousness +that he caused himself to be treated +like a child, by being unable to bear cross accidents. +His horse was ordered instantly, his +morning gown exchanged for his pretty riding +equipments, and his wife and son left to gaze +from one window and another to learn, if possible, +what was to happen next, and to reason with +one another about their lesser troubles, after the +manner of tender mothers and confiding children. +Temmy saw very clearly that it could do no good +to cry whenever squirrels were mentioned, and +that it must be much pleasanter to papa to see +his boy smile, and to hear him answer cheerfully, +than——The child’s memory could supply the +contrast. This same papa was all the time in +great trouble without reasoning. He pursued +his way to the Creek as if he had been in mortal +terror of the groom who followed at his heels.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Aside the devil turned for envy,” says Milton. +Such a pang has since been the lot of +many a splenetic descendant of the arch-fiend, on +witnessing happiness that he not only could not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.32'>32</span>share, but could not sympathize in. Such a pang +exasperated Mr. Temple on casting his first +glance over the scene of the frolic. He despised +every body there, from Arthur, now brandishing +his rule, now lending a hand to place a heavy +beam, to the youngest of Dods’s children, who +thought she was helping by sticking corn-cobs +into the crevices of the logs. He despised Brawn, +the woodsman, with his round shoulders, enormous +bush of hair, and hands that looked as if +they could lift up a house. He despised the +daughters, Black Brawnee and Brown Brawnee, +as they were called. He was never very easy +when he fell in with these girls in the depths of +the forest, tapping their row of maple trees, and +kneeling at the troughs beneath; or on the +flowery prairie, lining the wild bees to their +haunt in the hollow tree. He felt himself an object +of ridicule to these daughters of the forest, +and so insignificant in respect of all the qualifications +which they valued, that none of his personal +accomplishments gave him any comfortable +feeling of confidence in their presence; and the +merriment with which they now pursued as sport +a toil which would have been death to him, irritated +him to a degree which they were amused +to witness. He despised the whole apparatus of +festivity: the pig roasting in the shade, and the +bustle of the women preparing the various messes +of corn, and exhibiting their stores of salt beef. +He pronounced the whole vulgar,—so excessively +vulgar,—that he could not endure that a +son of Dr. Sneyd’s should be assisting in the fête. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.33'>33</span>The axe and mattock sounded in a very annoying +way; the buzz of voices and of laughter were +highly discreditable to the order of the place; +and the work was so rough that, in all probability, +he should be obliged to witness some wounds +or bruises if he did not get away. So he hastened +to conceal his envy from himself, and to +express his contempt as plainly as possible.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He raised himself in his stirrups, and called +out his men by name. They came forth unwillingly, +having but just arrived to join the frolic, +and suspecting that their capricious master meant +to send them home again. A glance of mutual +condolence between two of them was observed by +Mr. Temple, and did no good to their cause. +They were ordered to return instantly to their +work in the park-field, and to appear no more +near the Creek this day.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We will do some of their work in the park-field +to-morrow, Mr. Temple,” said Arthur, “if +you will let us have the benefit of their labour +now.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Under a sense of infinite obligation, Mr. Temple +explained that he permitted none but his own +people,—no vagabond woodsmen,—no workmen +who came hither because they were driven out of +the civilized world,—to touch his land. And, +after the losses of the preceding evening, he +could not think of giving his men a holiday,—losses +of which Arthur had not even had the +grace to apprize him. Arthur was surprized. +He could not have supposed that such a piece of +news could have been long in travelling through +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.34'>34</span>the village of Briery Creek, considering that +Temple’s man had been one of the waggoners, +Temple’s son a witness of the whole, and the +entire population of the place on the spot before +the adventure was finished. Why was it more +Arthur’s duty than any one’s else to carry him +the disagreeable news?</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Your not having done it, Mr. Sneyd, is of +a piece with your conduct about the cattle-marks, +sir,—of a piece with the whole of your conduct +since you entered upon your speculations in my +neighbourhood. My men shall know the story +of the cattle-marks, sir, and then we shall see +which of them will stir a finger to help you with +your bridge."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What about the cattle-marks?” asked Arthur, +with a perplexed look. “If you told me, I am +afraid I have forgotten.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You could have given me the earliest intelligence, +I fancy, sir. If I mistake not, you have +entered, at the land-office, your design of marking +your sheep and pigs with three slanting slits +in the right ear.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>This was true.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And your determination was not made +known,—it was not, in fact, taken,—till the fifteenth +of last month."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I dare say not. I planned it just before my +second visit to the land-office, which was about +the middle of last month.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Very well, sir; the fifteenth was your day. +Now, I have evidence to prove that on the thirteenth +I informed my son, who, I understand, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.35'>35</span>informed Dr. Sneyd, that it was my intention to +mark my cattle with three slanting slits in the +right ear.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Well! what then?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Why, just that circumstances have so fallen +out as to defeat your design, sir, which I will not +stop to characterize. I have a connexion with +the land-office, sir, which you were perhaps not +aware of; and my sheep and pigs will run no risk +of being confounded with yours. It is very well +to ask—‘What then?’ I should like to know +whether my sheep and pigs do not far out-number +yours: and how was any one to distinguish the +one from the other, straying in the woods and +prairies, if all were marked with three slanting +slits in the right ear?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur would not stoop to reply to the insinuations +of his brother-in-law. He did, for a +moment, condescend to lose his temper, and +would probably have frightened the intruder off +the ground by an exhibition of passion, if the +Brawnees and their father, and a few others who +had nothing to hope or fear from Temple, had +not relieved him by a timely burst of laughter. +Dods dared not laugh, for he was brickmaker to +Temple; and much building remained to be done +about the lodge. Others, among whom the gentleman’s +money was distributed in profusion, +appeared not to observe what was going on. +Arthur only observed, before recommencing his +labours,—</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I am surprised to hear all this, Mr. Temple. +I thought your cattle had been much too proud +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.36'>36</span>to stray about the woods like the beasts of poor, +common settlers like us. I am sure when I grow +rich enough to have stables, and styes, and pens, +such as you can command, my horses will never +be heard tinkling their bells in the forest in the +evening, and nobody will run over a pig of mine +in the prairie.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And yet you can spare time to build bridges, +Mr. Sneyd; and you can contribute materials +for a market-house and a cheese dairy. It is not +to every body that you complain of poverty.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“To no one do I complain of poverty. I am +not poor. Nobody present is poor. There was +but one short period when any of us could be +justly called so; and that was when each of us had +barely enough to supply his own actual wants.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That did not last long,” said Dods. “In a +young settlement like ours, two years ago, every +act of labour tells. Ah! there goes my gentleman! +I thought so. He never stays to be reminded +what a barbarous place he has got into.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Whatever brought him here,” observed +Brawn, “is more than any of us can tell. I +have seen new settlers enough in my day, my +life having lain among new clearings. Many a +rough farmer, many a pale mechanic, have I seen; +the one looking gloomily into the waste before +him, and the other sinking under the toil that was +too new to him. And many a trader has passed +through with his stores, and many a speculator +come to gamble in land, and go away again. +But a beau like this, with a power of money to +spend, without caring to earn any, is a thing I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.37'>37</span>have heard tell of far to the east, but never thought +to see. It makes one waken one’s ears to hear +what travellers tell of the reason.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur could have told the reason, as his +neighbours knew; and it was probably the hope +that he might forget his discretion that made the +gossips of Briery Creek betake themselves to +conjectures in his hearing as often as he was believed +to have received provocation from Temple. +He was never known, however, to deny or confirm +anything that was said. It was pretty well understood +that Temple had come here because he +had made his former place of residence too hot +to hold him; but whether he had libelled or slain +anybody, made himself odious as an informer, +enriched himself by unfair means, or been unfortunate +in a duel, it still remained for some accidental +revelation to make known.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“How is it, Dods, that you think every act of +labour tells in a young settlement?” asked Arthur, +on resuming work after a large destruction +of roast pig. “I have always understood that +labour is worth more the more it is divided; and +nowhere is there less division of labour than in a +young settlement.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Very true. I hold that we are both right, because +we are speaking of different states of affairs. +Before people have enough of anything to change +away, and while each man works for himself, +each touch of his finger, if one may say so, supplies +some want of his own. No need, in such +days, to trouble your head about whether your +work will sell! You want a thing; you make it, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.38'>38</span>and use it; and thereby feel how much your +work is worth. But the case is different when +you have more of a thing than you want, and +would fain change it away. You cannot change +it away unless others have also something more +than they want to use themselves. Then they +begin to club their labour together, and divide +the work among them, and try by what means +they can get the most done; by such division of +labour they do get the most done, but it does not +follow that the workmen flourish accordingly, as +they do when each works for himself.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Because it becomes more difficult to calculate +how much of each sort of production will be +wanted. The matter becomes perplexed by the +wishes of so many being concerned. If we could +understand those wishes, the more we can get +produced, the better it would be for everybody.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I have tried both the periods we speak of,” +said Dods. "Brickmaking was a fine business +indeed in the part of England where I lived when +trade was brisk, and manufacturers building +country-houses, and speculators running up rows +of cottages for weavers. But a sudden change +knocked me up when I least expected it. I went +on one summer making bricks as before;—for +what should I know of the changes that were +taking place on the other side of the world, and +that spread through our manufacturers, and +weavers, and builders, till they reached me? The +first I knew of it was, my not selling a brick +for the whole season, and seeing house after +house deserted, till it was plain that my unbaked +bricks must melt in the winter rains, and those in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.39'>39</span>the kilns crumble in the storms, before my labour +would be wanted again in that line. As for my +little capital, it melted and crumbled away with +the bricks it was locked up in. Here mine was, +for a long while, the only brick house. I made +not a brick too much; so that there was no +waste."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And the same may be said of the work you +do for Mr. Temple. There may be an exact calculation +how many bricks are wanted, so that you +can proportion your supply exactly to the demand.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And use the advantage of division of labour +too, sir. No fear of a glut coming unawares, +when I have the whole of our little range under +my own eye. One of my boys may dig the clay, +and another barrow the bricks to the kiln, and +the eldest tend the fires, while I am moulding, and +no fear of our all being thrown out at once by an +unexpected glut; and the more disastrously, perhaps, +for our having turned our mutual help to the +best account.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I rather think your labour is stimulated +rather than relaxed by the high wages you get +here, Mr. Dods.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Why, yes. That seems the natural effect of +high wages, whatever people may say of the desperate +hard work of such poor creatures as the +Glasgow weavers, or the Manchester spinners. +I say, look to the Irish, who have very poor +wages. Do they work hard? I say, look to the +labourers in India. They have miserable wages. +Do they work hard? The difference between +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.40'>40</span>these and the Lancashire spinners seems to +me to be, that in India and Ireland, some sort +of subsistence,—rice and potatoes, poor enough,—is +to be had for little labour, and little more +can be gained by greater labour; while the Lancashire +poor can only get a bare subsistence by +excessive labour, and therefore they labour excessively. +Put a poor diet of rice within reach of +the Lancashire spinner, with the knowledge that +he can get nothing better, and he will do as little +work as will procure him a bare subsistence of +rice. But try all three with high wages, in circumstances +where they may add one comfort after +another to their store, and you will see whether +they will relax in their toils till they have got all +that labour can obtain."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I say, look to the reason of the case, and it +will tell the same story as the facts. If a man +is lazy, and loves idleness more than the good +things which industry will bring, there is an end +of the matter, as far as he is concerned. He is +an exception to common rules. But, as long as +there is no end to the comforts and luxuries which +most men prefer to idleness, there will be no end +of exertion to obtain them. I believe you and +your sons work harder than you did two years +ago, though you have ten times as many comforts +about you.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And my wife, too, I assure you. At first, +we used to sit down tired before the end of the +day, and if we had bread enough for supper, and +blankets to spread on the floor of our log-house, +were apt to think we could do no more that day, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.41'>41</span>But when we had wherewith to get salt beef, we +thought we could work a little harder for something +pleasanter to drink with it than the brackish +water which was used by us all at first, for want +of a sweeter draught. In like manner, when we +once had a brick cottage, there was no end of our +toil to get things to put into it;—first, bedsteads, +and seats, and a table; and then crockery, and +hardware, and matting for the floors; and now +my wife has set her mind upon carpets, and a +looking-glass for her customers to fancy her +handiwork by. She says ladies always admire +her gowns and bonnets most when they see them +on themselves. It was but this morning that my +wife vowed that a handsome looking-glass was a +necessary of life to her. We should all have +laughed enough at the idea of such a speech two +years ago."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And with the wish, your wife brings the +power to obtain these comforts.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"The wish would be worth little without the +power; which makes it a merciful arrangement +that the wish only grows with the power. If my +wife had longed for a looking-glass before she +was able to set about earning one with her mantua-making +and milliner’s work, she would have +been suffering under a useless trouble. No: it +is a good thing that while people are solitary, +producing only for themselves, there is no demand +for other people’s goods——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I should say ‘desire.’ There is no demand +till the power and the will are joined. If your +wife had pined for a mirror two years ago, there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.42'>42</span>would have been no demand for it on her part. +To-morrow, if she offers a travelling trader a +smart assortment of caps,—or, what is the same +thing, if she sells her caps to the women of +Briery Creek, and gives the trader the money for +his mirror,—she makes a real and effective demand. +It seems to me a blessed arrangement, too, that +there is always somewhat wherewith to supply +this demand, and exactly enough to supply it."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Ay, sir; if we were but sharp-sighted enough +to take care that the quality was as exactly fitted +to human wishes as the quantity. Since we none +of us produce more than we want, just for the +pleasure of toiling, it is as plain as possible that +every man’s surplus constitutes a demand. Well! +every man’s surplus is also his neighbour’s supply. +The instrument of demand that every man +brings is also his instrument of supply; so that, +in point of quantity, there is always a precise +provision made for human wants.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Yes; and if mistakes are made as to the kinds +of articles that are wished for, there is always the +consolation that such mistakes will correct one +another, as long as there can never be too much +of everything. If what we have just said be true, +there being too much of one thing proves that +there must be too little of another; and the production +of the one will be slackened, and that of the +other quickened, till they are made equal. If your +wife makes up more caps by half than are wanted, +caps will be ruinously cheap. The Brawnees +will give much less maple sugar for their caps——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Brawnees never wore caps, Arthur was +reminded.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.43'>43</span>“But they will, in time, take my word for it, if +they remain among us. Well! your wife will +refuse to sell her caps at so great a loss. She +will lay them by till the present generation of +caps is worn out, and go and tap the maple trees +for herself, rather than pay others dearly for it. +In this case, the glut is of caps; and the deficiency +is of maple sugar.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My wife’s gains must depend on her own +judgment in adapting her millinery to the wants +of her customers. If she makes half as many +caps again as are needed, she deserves to lose, and +to have to go out sugar-making for herself.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Yes: calculation may avail in a small society +like this. In a larger and more complicated +society, the most that prudence can do is to watch +the changes of wants and wishes, as shown by +variations of price. This would avail for all practical +purposes, if wants and wishes were left to +themselves. They are so at Briery Creek, and +therefore every trader at Briery Creek has fair +play. But it is not so where bounties, and prohibitions, +and unequal taxation are made to interfere +among buyers and sellers: where such disturbing +influences exist, the trader has not fair +play; and it would be a miracle indeed if he could +adapt his supply to the demand,—or, in other +words, be satisfied in his own demand. What +is moving in the wood there, Dods? What +takes all our people away from their work when it +is so nearly finished?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It must be some rare sight,” observed Dods. +“Every one, look ye, man, woman, and child, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.44'>44</span>skipping over the new bridge while half of it is +prettily gravelled, and the other half still bare and +slippery. See how they scramble over the heap +of gravel left in the middle! I suppose I must +follow where they lead, and bring you the news, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Before Dods had time to complete his first passage +over the new bridge, the news told itself. A +company of soldiers, on their way to occupy a +military post near, emerged from the green +depths of the forest, and appeared to be making +straight for the ford, without looking to the right +hand or to the left. Their pleasure was instantly +visible when, their attention being attracted by a +shout from the throng of settlers, they perceived a +substantial bridge, finished except the gravelling, +overhanging the stream through which they had +expected to be compelled to wade. They received +with hearty good-will their commander’s directions +to pay toll of their labour for their passage. +Never was a public work finished in a more +joyous style. The heap of gravel was levelled +in a trice; and, by particular desire, a substantial +handrail was fixed for the benefit of careless children, +or of any whose nerves might be affected +by the sight of the restless waters below. Temple +was riding along a ridge whence he could look +down, and hoped to observe how much the work +was retarded by his labourers being withdrawn. +When he saw that no help of his was wanted,—that +the erection was now complete, the refuse +logs being piled up out of the way, the boughs +carried off for fuel, the tools collected, and preparations +made for the crowning repast,—he put +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.45'>45</span>spurs to his horse, and cast hard words at his +groom for allowing him to forget that he was +likely to be late home to dinner.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur, meantime, was engaged with the commander, +who explained that his men and he +would be glad of the advantage of attending +divine service on the Sunday, if there was any +place within reach of their post where they might +do so. The only place of worship at present in +Briery Creek was Dr. Sneyd’s house, where he +had conducted service since his arrival, for the +benefit of all who wished to attend. The commander +was very anxious to be permitted, with +his company, to join the assemblage; Arthur had +no doubt of his father’s willingness. The question +was, where they should assemble, Dr. +Sneyd’s house not being large enough for so +many. One proposed the verge of the forest; +but Dr. Sneyd was not, at his age, made to abide +changes of weather like the hardy settlers about +him. Arthur’s barn was too far off for the convenience +of all parties. Nobody was disposed to +ask from Mr. Temple any favour which, being +graciously granted for one Sunday, might be +withdrawn before the next. Could the market-house +be made fit for the purpose? It was a +rude building, without seats, and occupied with +traffic till the Saturday evening; but the neighbours +promised to vacate it in time to have it +cleared,—prepared with log seats, and some sort +of pulpit,—and made a temple meet for the worship +of the heart.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd’s afternoon walk brought him to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.46'>46</span>spot in time to promise to do his part. His +blessing was ready for the work newly completed, +and for the parting cup with which the men of +peace dismissed the men of war, in a spirit of +mutual good-will.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.3' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter III.</span> <br> <br> SATURDAY MORNING.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>The settlers at Briery Creek followed the old +custom of the mother country, of holding their +market on a Saturday. Saturday was an anxious +day to some, a joyous day to others, and a busy +day to all. Many a mother bent her steps to the +market-house, doubting whether she should be +able to meet with the delicate food she desired +for her baby just weaned, or for her invalid husband, +getting up from the fever, and following +her cookery with eager eyes. Many a child held +its mother’s apron, and watched her bargaining, +in the hope that some new and tempting article +of food would be carried home, after a long +sameness; or that the unexpected cheapness of +her purchases would enable her to present him +with the long-promised straw hat, or, at least, a +pocket-full of candy from the Brawnees’ sugar +pans. The whole village was early astir; and +Dr. Sneyd, when he preferred a stroll along the +bank of the creek to a turn in the market-house +with his lady, could distinguish from a distance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.47'>47</span>the solitariness of the farm-yards and dwellings, +and the convergence of driver, drover, rider, and +walking trader, towards the point of attraction.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur was the centre of all observation. He +offered more for sale than anybody else: he +bought more; and he had the largest division of +the market-house, excepting always the corner +reserved for the passing trader, who could spread +out riches far transcending what even Arthur +could boast. To such, the young farmer left it +to exhibit bear and beaver skins, leather, and +store of salted venison, if he came from the +North or West; and hardware, cotton, cloth and +silk goods, books and stationery, if he was on +his way from the East. Any of these, or all in +their turn, Arthur bought; but his sales, various +as they were considered, were confined to a few +articles of food. He traded, not for wealth of +money, but of comfort. His purchases were of +two kinds, neither of which were destined for +sale, as were those of the trader to whom he +yielded precedence in the market-house. He +bought implements to replace those which were +worn out; and this kind of purchase was a +similar sort of expenditure to that of the seed-corn +which was put into the ground, and the +repairs bestowed upon his fences and barn;—it +was an expenditure of capital—capital consumed +for purposes of reproduction with increase. With +the surplus left after thus replacing his former +capital, and perpetually adding to it, Arthur purchased +articles of unproductive consumption; +some for his house, which was becoming so +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.48'>48</span>much prettier than a bachelor could want, that +the gossips of Briery Creek began to speculate +on whom he had chosen to share the occupancy; +some for his table, as the sugar of the Brawnees; +some for his person, as the stout leggings which +Dods occupied himself in making in rainy +weather; and some for his friends, as when he +could lay hold of a political journal for his father, +or of a fur tippet for his mother, or of a set of +pencils for Temmy to sketch with when he +came to the farm. (Arthur seldom went to Mr. +Temple’s; but he found time to give Temmy +many a drawing-lesson at the farm.) Now that +Arthur had not only a growing capital, but a +surplus after replacing it—a revenue, which furnished +him with more comforts perpetually, he +was unwilling that his sister should feel so hurt +as he knew she did at her husband not having +assisted him with capital, from the time that he +took his farm in the shape of a patch of prairie. +In the early days of his enterprise, he would +have been truly thankful for such an addition to +his small stock of dollars as would have enabled +him to cultivate a larger extent of ground, and +live less hardly while his little property was +growing faster; but now that he had surmounted +his first difficulties, and was actually justified in +enlarging his unproductive expenditure, he wished +Mrs. Temple to forget that her husband had declined +assisting her brother, and be satisfied that +the rich man had not been able to hinder the +prosperity he would not promote.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The prosperity of the whole village would have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.49'>49</span>increased more rapidly than it did, if all the inhabitants +had been as careful in their consumption +as Arthur. Not only did Temple expend +lavishly in caprices as well as luxuries, and the +surgeon-tavern-keeper tempt many a labourer +and small proprietor to spend that in whisky +which ought to have been laid out (if not productively) +in enjoyments that were innocent,—but +there was a prevalence of wasteful habits, +against which Arthur and his establishment might +have served as a sufficient example. The merit +of the order which was observable on his farm +was partly due to himself, partly to Mrs. Sneyd, +(who kept a maternal eye on all his interests,) +and partly to Isaac’s wife, who superintended his +dairy and dwelling-house.</p> + +<p class='c001'>On this market morning,—after a day of extraordinary +fatigue,—the slate of the place at six +o’clock might have shamed many a farm-house +in a region where there is a superabundance +instead of a dearth of female service. Isaac’s +wife had no maid to help her but her own little +maidens of four and three years old; yet, by six +o’clock, when her employer was driving his market-cart +to the place of traffic, the milk was duly +set by in the pans, the poultry were fed, the tallow +with which she was about to make candles was +preparing while she made the beds, and the little +girls were washing up the breakfast things in the +kitchen—the elder tenderly wiping the cups and +basins which the younger had washed in the +wooden bowl which her mother had placed and +filled for her in the middle of the floor, as the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.50'>50</span>place whence it was most certain that it could +fall no lower. The pigs were in their proper +place, within a fence, which had a roof in one +corner for their shelter in bad weather. The +horses and cattle were all properly marked, and +duly made musical with bells, when turned out +into the woods. There was a well of pure water, +so guarded, that the children and other young +animals could not run into it unawares; and all +the wild beasts of the forest had tried the strength +of the fences in vain. Arthur had not, therefore, +had to pay for the luxurious feasts of his enemies +of the earth or air, or for any of that consumption +which may, in a special sense, be called unproductive, +since it yields neither profit to the +substance nor pleasure to the mind. If a similar +economy had pervaded the settlement, its gross +annual produce would have more rapidly increased, +and a larger revenue would have been +set at liberty to promote the civilization of the +society in improving the comfort of individuals.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Brawn and his daughters could never be made +to attend to this. The resources which they +wasted would have tilled many an acre of good +land, or have built a school-house, or have turned +their habitation of logs into a respectable brick +tenement, with grassy field and fruitful garden. +They preferred what they called ease and liberty; +and the waste they caused might be considered +as revenue spent on a pleasure,—a very unintelligible +pleasure,—of their own choice. As long +as they supported themselves without defrauding +their neighbours, (and fraud was the last thing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.51'>51</span>they could have been made to understand,) no +one had a right to interfere with their methods +of enjoyment any more than with Temple’s conservatory, +or Dr. Sneyd’s library, or Mrs. Dods’s +passion for mirrors and old china; but it was +allowable to be sorry for so depraved a taste, and +to have a very decided opinion of its injuriousness +to society, and consequent immorality. This +very morning there was dire confusion in their +corner of the settlement. For some days the +girls had been bee-hunting, being anxious to +bring the first honey of the season into the +market. In order to make up for the time spent +on the new bridge, they were abroad at sunrise +this day to track the wild bees in their earliest +flight; but after such a fashion, that it would +have answered better to them to be at home and +asleep. Yet they succeeded in their object. The +morning was just such as to tempt all things that +fly from the hollow tree, from which the mists +had drawn off, leaving a diamond token on every +leaf. The sun began to shine warm through the +summer haze, and the wild flowers of the prairie +to look up and brighten at his presence. As the +brown sisters threaded the narrow ways of the +woods, bursting through the wild vines, and +bringing a shower of dew on their heads from +sycamore and beech, many a winged creature +hummed, or buzzed, or flitted by,—the languid +drone, or the fierce hornet, or white butterflies in +pairs, chasing one another into the loftiest and +greenest recess of the leafy canopy. Presently +came the honey-bee, winging its way to the sunny +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.52'>52</span>space—the natural herb-garden, to which the girls +were hastening; and when there, what a hovering, +and buzzing, and sipping, and flitting was +going on! The bee-women laughed in anticipation +of their sport as they drew on their leathern +mittens, and applied themselves to catch a +loaded bee in each hand. They agreed on their +respective stations of experiment, and separating, +let fly their prisoners, one by one, tracking the +homeward course of each, with a practised eye, +through a maze of boughs, and flickering lights +and shadows, and clustered stems, which would +have perplexed the vision of a novice. The four +bees being let fly from different stations, the point +at which their lines of flight must intersect each +other was that at which the honeycomb might be +surely found; and a rich store it was,—liquid, +clear, and fragrant,—such as would assuredly +make the mouth water of every little person in +the village who had advanced beyond a milk +diet. Another and another hollow tree was +found thus to give forth sweetness from its decay, +till the bee-women shook back the lank hair from +before their eyes, gathered up such tatters of their +woollen garments as they had not left on the +bushes by the way, and addressed themselves to +return. On their walk it was that they discovered +that they had lost more this morning than +many such a ramble as theirs could repay.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A vast cluttering and screaming of fowls was +the first thing that drew off their attention from +their fragrant load. Some of the poor poultry +that their father had been plucking alive (as he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.53'>53</span>was wont to do six times a year) had evidently +made their escape from his hands half plucked, +and were now making short flights, higher and +farther from home, so that it was more probable +that they would join their wild acquaintance, the +turkeys or the prairie fowl, than return to roost +among the logs. Next appeared,—now entangling +its hind legs among the vines, now poking +its snout into a ground-squirrel’s nest, and now +scuttling away from pursuit,—a fine young +porker, which had been shut up from its rambles +for some time past. The sisters gave chase to +their own property; but all in vain: their pursuit +only drove the animal farther into the wood, and +they hastened home to give notice of the disaster. +They could see nothing of Brawn about the house, +but could not look farther for him till they had +discovered the meaning of the light smoke which +issued from the door and the crevices of the log-wall. +Black Brawnee’s best gown was burning +before the fire,—the splendid cotton gown, with +a scarlet ground and a pattern of golden flowers, +which, to the astonishment of every body, she +had taken a fancy to buy of a passing trader, +and which she had washed and hung up to dry +in preparation for the market: it was smouldering +away, leaving only a fragment to tell the tale. +Next came a moan from an enclosure behind the +cottage, and there lay a favourite young colt with +two legs so broken that it was plain the poor animal +would never more stand. How it happened +could not be learned from the dumb beast, nor +from the two or three other beasts that were huddled +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.54'>54</span>together in this place, where they had no +business to be. It seemed as if, in some grand +panic, the animals had tumbled over one another, +leaving the colt to be the chief sufferer. But +where was Brawn himself? He was moaning, +too, in a hollow place in the wood, where he had +made a false leap, and fallen so as to sprain his +ankle, while in pursuit of the runaway porker.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What brought ye here?” asked the brown +damsel, as she raised her father with one application +of strength.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What carried the porker into the forest?” +he asked, in reply.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Ask him. We did not give him room,” said +one.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No need,” retorted the other. “Who left +the gate open?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That did we both, this morning, for the cause +that there is no fastening.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No latch; but a fastening there is. I knotted +the rope last night, and so might you this +morning. The loss of the porker comes of losing +the lamb.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My lamb!” was repeated, with every variety +of lamentation, by both the damsels. It was too +true. For want of a latch, the gate of the enclosure +was tied with a rope. The damsels found +the tying too troublesome, and merely pulled it +after them. Little by little it had swung open. +A sharp-set wild cat had stolen in to make choice +of a meal, and run out again with the pet lamb. +The master had followed the lamb, and the porker +made the best of his opportunity, and followed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.55'>55</span>the master. Then ensued the hue and cry which +drove the beasts over the poor colt; and, meantime, +the scarlet gown, one sleeve of which had +been puffed into the fire by Brawn’s hasty exit, +was accelerating the smoking of the dried beef +which hung from the rafters. A vast unproductive +consumption for one morning!</p> + +<p class='c001'>The damsels made nothing of carrying their +father home, and, after bathing his ankle, laying +him down on his back to study the rafters till +they should return from the market. It was a +much harder task to go to market; the one without +her scarlet and yellow gown, and the other +with grief for her lamb lying heavy at her heart.</p> + +<p class='c001'>They found their pigs very trying to their tempers +this morning. Instead of killing them, and +carrying them to market in that quiet state, as +usual, the damsels had resolved to make the attempt +to drive them; as, from the abundance of +pork in all its forms in the market just now, a +sale was very uncertain. To drive pigs along a +high road is not a very easy task; what then +must it be in a wild country, where it is difficult +even to follow their vagaries, and nearly impossible +to reclaim them? The Brawnees agreed +that to prevent such vagaries offered the only +hope of getting to market in time; and one +therefore belled the old hog which was to be her +special charge, while the other was to promote to +the utmost the effect of the bell-music on the +younger members of the drove. The task was +not made easier by the poor beasts having been +very ill-fed. There was little in the coarse, sour +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.56'>56</span>prairie grass to tempt them; but patches of juicy +green were but too visible here and there where +travellers had encamped, feeding their beasts with +hay, and leaving the seeds of the perennial verdure +which was to spring up after the next rains. +Nothing could keep the old hog and the headlong +train from these patches, whether they lay +far or near; insomuch that the sisters were twenty +times tempted to leave their swine to their own +devices, and sell no pork that day. But the not +selling involved the not buying; and this thought +generated new efforts of patience and of skill. +When they arrived at the scene of exchange, +and cast a glance on Mrs. Dods’s display of cotton +garments set off with here and there a muslin +cap, and paraphernalia of pink and green; or on +a pile of butter which they were not neat-handed +enough to rival; or into wicker baskets of +crockery, or upon the trader’s ample store of +blankets, knives, horn spoons, and plumes of red +and blue feathers, they felt that it would indeed +have been cruel to be compelled to quit the +market without any of the articles that were offered +to their choice. Nobody, however, inquired for +their pigs. One neighbour was even saucy enough +to laugh at their appearance.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You had better buy a load of my pumpkins,” +said Kendall, the surgeon and tavern-keeper. +“Your swine will be more fit for market next +week, if you feed them on my fine pumpkins in +the meanwhile.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“When we want pumpkins,” said one of them, +“we will go to those that have ground to grow +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.57'>57</span>them on. You have not bought a field, and +grown pumpkins since yesterday, I suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“By no means. I have a slip of a garden, +let me tell you; and, though it is but a slip, it +is of rare mellow mould, where the vines strike +at every joint as they run. My wife has kept +enough for pies for all the travellers that may +pass before next spring. One load is bespoken +at four dollars; and you will take the other, if +you are wise. There are a few gourds with +them, too.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Gourds! Who cares for gourds?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Who can do without gourds, say I? I am +sure we, at the tavern, could not, so dear as +crockery is at this place. Cut off the top, and +you have a bottle; cut off top and tail, and you +have a funnel; cut it in two, and you have cups; +slice off one side, and you have a ladle. Take my +gourds, I advise you, and set yonder crockery-man +at defiance, with his monstrous prices and +brittle ware.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We have no drunken guests to break our +cups and bottles; and as for prices, how do you +know that they are a matter of concern to us? If +we take your load, it shall be the pumpkins without +the gourds.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You will take the pumpkins, then?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If you take the sum out in pork or honey. +We want our dollars for the crockery-man.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Pork, no! I think we shall all grunt soon. +We are pretty sure to have no Jews come our +way. We all have bacon for the morning meal; +and a pig for dinner, and salt pork for supper. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.58'>58</span>When one whistles to the birds, there comes a +squeal instead of a chirp; and as sure as one +walks in the dark, one stumbles over a pig. Our +children learn to grunt before they set about +speaking. No pork for me! We have a glut of +pigs.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Honey, then. Your wife wants honey for +her pumpkin-pies; and I have heard that you set +out mead sometimes at your tavern.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And till you cheapen your sugar, we want +honey to sweeten our travellers’ coffee, and treat +the children with. How much honey will you +give me for my load?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The damsel was checked in her answer by her +sister, who perceived that many eyes were turned +towards their fragrant store, and that no other +bee-hunters seemed to be in the market. A dollar +a gallon was the price announced by the sisters, +after a consultation. Mr. Kendall shook +his head, and stood aside for awhile. The truth +was, he was full as much in want of honey for +his purposes as an apothecary, as his wife for her +coffee and pies. He was resolved to get some, +at whatever price, and waited to put in his word +at the first favourable opportunity.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur was no less determined upon a purchase +of sweets. His mother began to be in +distress about her preserves. Her fruit was all +ripe, and craving to be preserved; but the destined +sugar had gone to sweeten the waters in +the Creek. She entreated her son to bring her +some honey. None could be found in the woods +near the farm. Every body was hay-making, or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.59'>59</span>about to make hay, and could not go out bee-hunting. +The Brawnees were the only resource.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I want some of your honey,” said he, catching +the eye of the damsel of the burned gown, +over the group which intervened.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You shall have it, and no one else,” was her +reply.</p> + +<p class='c001'>She was again checked by her sister, who knew +her disposition to serve Arthur, at the expense of +her own interests, and those of every body else.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What will you give?” asked the more prudent +one.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Pigs; we can agree on the price.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The one sister shook her head; the other +suddenly discovered that it would be a good plan +to improve and enlarge their wealth of swine +while swine were cheap. She offered her five +gallons of honey for one fat pig; which offer +caused her sister much consternation, and made +Kendall hope that the honey would be his, after +all.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No, no,” said Arthur. "Your terms are not +fair——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Then I will get another gallon or two before +the sun goes down, to make up——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I mean altogether the other way,” replied +Arthur. “I do not want to force my pigs upon +you; but if you take them, you shall have them +cheap, since there is but a poor demand for them +to-day. You shall have two of those pigs for +your five gallons; and if your sister thinks that +not enough, the difference shall be made up in +fresh butter.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.60'>60</span>While the bargain was being discussed, one +sister controlling the generosity of the other, and +her admiration of Arthur’s generosity, while +Arthur was thinking of nothing but fair play, +Kendall wandered away discontented, seeing that +his chance was over.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You do not happen to have any honey to sell, +Mrs. Dods?” said he, as he passed the stall of +cottons and muslins.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, dear, no, Mr. Kendall. It is what I want +above every thing. Really, it is impossible to +persuade an eye to look at my caps to-day, +though the pattern has never been introduced here +before. There is no use in my attempting to +deal with ladies who dress in such a strange style +as Brawn’s daughters. Nothing would look +becoming on them; or I am sure I would make +a sacrifice even on this tasty new thing, to get +something to sweeten my husband’s toddy with. +Indeed I expect to be obliged to make a sacrifice, +at all events, to-day; as I beg you will tell Mrs. +Kendall. There being such a profusion of pigs, +and so little honey to-day, seems to have put us +all out as to our prices.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“How happens it, Mrs. Dods?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In the first place, they say, there was never +such a season known for young pigs. The price +has fallen so that the plenty does more harm than +good to the owners; as is the complaint of +farmers, you know, when the crops are better +than ordinary, and they cannot enlarge their +market at will. Then, again, there seems to have +been miscalculation;—no one appears to have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.61'>61</span>been aware that every body would bring pigs, +and nobody any honey, except those slovenly +young women."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Ah! both causes of glut in full operation!” +exclaimed Kendall. “The caprice of seasons, +and the miscalculation of man!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And of woman too, Mr. Kendall. If you will +believe me, I have been at work early and late, +after my fashions, this week; ay, I declined +going to see the bridge finished, and put off our +wedding-day treat, for the sake of getting my +stock into pretty order by to-day; and I have +scarcely had a bid yet, or even a word from a +neighbour, till you came. I did not calculate on +the demand for honey, and the neglect of every +thing else. Every body is complaining of the +same thing.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"It seems strange, Mrs. Dods, that while we +all want to sell, and all to buy, we cannot make +our wants agree. I bring my demand to Mr. +Arthur,—my load of pumpkins and request of +honey or sugar. He wants no pumpkins, and +has no honey. I bring the same to you. You +want no pumpkins, and offer me caps. Now I +might perhaps get dollars for my pumpkins; but +I want only one cap——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"You do want one, then! Here is a pretty +thing, that would just suit your wife——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Let me go on. I bring my demand to those +dark girls: and the best of it is, they do want +pumpkins, and could let me have honey; but the +young farmer comes between, with his superfluity +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.62'>62</span>of pigs, to offer a better bargain; so that I +suffer equally from the glut of pork and the +dearth of honey.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We are all suffering, so that any stranger +would say that there is a glut of every thing but +honey. Neither millinery, nor blankets, nor +knives, nor flower-seeds are selling yet. But I +believe there is no glut of any thing but pigs. If +we could put them out of the market, and put +honey out of people’s heads, I have little doubt +we should exchange, to our mutual satisfaction, +as many articles as would set against each other, +till few would be left.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I hope to see this happen before night, and +then I may be rid of my pumpkins, and carry +home a cap at a price we should neither of us +grumble at, and keep the rest of my dollars for +honey hereafter.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Next week. No doubt, there will be a fine +supply of it next week. Perhaps a glut: for a +glut often follows close upon a scarcity.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Which should make us careful to husband +our stocks till we are sure we can renew them; +like the wise Joseph in Egypt.—That puts a +thing into my head. I have a good mind to take +the girls’ offer of pigs for my pumpkins. Who +knows but there may be a scarcity of pork after +all this plenty—which is apt to make people +wasteful? If they will, they shall have half a +load for two of their lean animals; and I will +keep the other half load to feed them upon."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Ah! that is always the way people’s wishes +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.63'>63</span>grow with opportunity. This morning, you +thought of no such thing as keeping pigs; and +now, before night, you will have two.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“To be sure, Mrs. Dods. Very natural! +The demand always grows as wealth grows, you +know. When the farmer makes his land yield +double by good tillage, he demands double the +commodities he demanded before; and if nature +gives us a multitude of pigs, a new demand will +open in the same way.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And there is a double supply at the same +time,—of corn by the farmer, and of pigs by the +porkseller. Well! in either case, there is a +better chance opened for my caps. The more +wealth there is, the better hope of a sale of +millinery. You must not forget that, Mr. +Kendall. You promised to take one of my caps, +you know."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Why, so I did; but how to pay for it, I am +sure I don’t know. I am not going to sell my +load for money, you see.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Well, I will tell you how. Get three lean +pigs, and part with a few more pumpkins. I +will take a pig for this pretty cap. I am somewhat +of your opinion that pigs will soon be worth +more than they are now.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And so you help to quicken the demand.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Yes. My boys will manage to keep the +animal,—behind the house, or in the brickfield. +And it would be a thousand pities your wife +should not have this cap. I had her before my +mind’s eye while making it, I do assure you;—and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.64'>64</span>it will soon lose its bloom if it goes into my +window, or upon my shelves again."</p> + +<p class='c001'>The negotiation was happily concluded; and, +by the end of the day, when pigs and honey were +put out of the question, a brisk traffic took place +in the remaining articles, respecting which the +wishes of the buyers and sellers agreed better +than they had done about the disproportioned +commodities. All had come with a demand; +and each one’s instrument of demand was his +neighbour’s means of supply: so that the market +would have been entirely cleared, if they had but +known one another’s wishes well enough to +calculate what kinds of produce they should +bring. If this had been done, there would have +been more honey; and if, from a caprice of +nature, there had been still more pigs than usual, +the only consequence would have been that the +demander of pork would have received more of it +to his bargain, or that the supplier of pigs would +have kept back some of his pork, to be an +additional future instrument of demand. In this +case, no one would have lost, and some one would +have gained.</p> + +<p class='c001'>As it was, Arthur was a loser. He paid much +more for honey than would probably be necessary +the next week. But he thought himself in +another sense a gainer,—in proportion to the +pleasure of obliging his mother. The Brawnees +carried home two thirds of a load of pumpkins, +two fat pigs, and a cherished store of fresh butter, +in the place of their five gallons of honey and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.65'>65</span>three lean swine. They were decidedly gainers; +though not, perhaps, to the extent they might +have been if they had been unscrupulous about +pressing their customer hard. Any one but +Arthur would have been made to yield more +wealth than this; but they were well content +with having pleased him, and repaired in part the +losses of the morning.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Other parties left little to be removed in +preparation for the Sunday. Having carried +home their purchases first, they returned for the +small remainder of their stock; and the evening +closed with a sort of minor frolic, the children +running after the stray feathers their mothers were +sweeping away, and the men ranging logs for +seats, and providing a platform and desk for the +use of Dr. Sneyd. One or two serious people +were alarmed at the act of thus turning a house +of merchandise into a temple of worship; but +the greater number thought that the main consideration +was to gather together as many +worshippers as could be collected in the heart of +their wilderness. Such an accession as was now +promised to their congregation seemed to mark +an era in the history of their community.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.4' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter IV.</span> <br> <br> SUNDAY EVENING.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>Temmy was fond of feeling his grandfather’s +hand upon his shoulder any day of the week; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.66'>66</span>but on the Sunday evening, in particular, it was +delightful to the boy to share the leisure of the +family. Many a tale of old times had Mrs. +Sneyd then to tell; many a curious secret of +things in earth, air, and heaven, had the doctor to +disclose; and uncle Arthur was always ready to +hear of the doings of the last week, and to +promise favours for the time to come. It was +seldom that Temmy could enjoy a whole evening +of such pleasures;—only when Mr. Temple +chose to make an excursion, and carry his lady +with him, or to go to bed at eight o’clock because +his ennui had by that time become intolerable. +Usually, Temmy could be spared only for an +hour or two, and was sure to be fetched away in +the midst of the most interesting of all his grandmamma’s +stories, or the most anxious of the +doctor’s experiments.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This evening,—the evening of the day of +opening the market-house for worship,—the poor +boy had given up all hope of getting beyond the +boundaries of the Lodge. Mr. Temple was, as +he said, very ill; as every body else would have +said,—in a very intolerable humour. He could +not bear sunshine or sound. His wife must sit +behind closed shutters, and was grievously +punished for her inability to keep the birds from +singing. Temmy must not move from the foot +of the sofa, except to ring the bell every two +minutes, and carry scolding messages every +quarter of an hour; in return for which he was +reproved till he cried for moving about, and +opening and shutting the door. At length, to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.67'>67</span>the great joy of every body, the gentleman went +to bed, having drunk as much wine as his head +would bear, and finding no relief to his many +ailments from that sort of medicine. This final +measure was accomplished just in time for the +drawing-room windows to be thrown open to the +level rays of the sun, and the last breath of the +closing flowers. The wine was carried away, +and Ephraim called for to attend his young master +to Dr. Sneyd’s. Temmy was to explain why +Mrs. Temple could not leave home this evening, +and he might stay till Dr. Sneyd himself should +think it time for him to return. Without the +usual formalities of pony, groom, and what not, +Temmy was soon on the way, and in another +half-hour had nearly forgotten papa’s terrible +headache under the blessed influence of grandpapa’s +ease of heart.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Uncle Arthur was sitting astride on the low +window-sill of the study, with Temmy hanging +on his shoulder, when a golden planet showed +itself above the black line of the forest. The +moon had not risen, so that there was no rival in +the heaven; and when the evening had darkened +a little more, Temmy fancied that this bright orb +cast a faint light upon his grandfather’s silver +hairs, and over uncle Arthur’s handsome, weather-browned +face. Temmy had often heard that his +father had much beauty; and certainly his picture +seemed to have been taken a great many times; +yet the boy always forgot to look for this beauty +except when some of these pictures were brought +out, while he admired uncle Arthur’s dark eyes, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.68'>68</span>and beautiful smile and high forehead, more and +more every time he saw him. It was very lucky +that uncle Arthur looked so well without combing +his eye-brows, and oiling his hair, and using +three sorts of soap for his hands, and three different +steel instruments, of mysterious construction, +for his nails; for the young farmer had no +time for such amusements. It was also well that +he was not troubled with fears for his complexion +from the summer’s sun, or from the evening air +in the keenest night of winter. This was lucky, +even as far as his good looks were concerned, +for, if he looked well by candle-light, he looked +better in the joyous, busy noon; and more dignified +still when taking his rest in the moonlight; +and, as Temmy now thought, noblest of all while +under the stars. If papa could see him now, +perhaps he would not laugh so very much as +usual about uncle Arthur’s being tanned, and +letting his hair go as it would.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Shall we mount to the telescopes, father?” +asked Arthur. “The boy will have time to enjoy +them to-night. I will take care of him home, +if Ephraim dares not stay.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd rose briskly, observing that it would +indeed be a pity to lose such an evening. Temmy +grasped his grandmamma’s hand, hoping that +she was going too. He scarcely knew why, but +he felt the observatory to be a very awful place, +particularly at night, when only a faint bluish +light came in through the crevices of the shifting +boards; or a stray beam, mysteriously bright, +fell from the end of the slanting telescope, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.69'>69</span>visibly moved on the floor. Grandpapa was rather +apt to forget Temmy when he once got into the +observatory, and to leave him shivering in a dark +corner, wondering why every body spoke low in +this place, and afraid to ask whether the stars +really made any music which mortal ears might +listen for. When grandpapa did remember the +boy, he was not aware that he was uneasy and +out of breath, but would call him here and send +him there, just as he did in the study in broad +daylight. It had been very different with grandmamma, +the only time she had mounted hither +with him. She had held his hand all the while, +and found out that, tall as he was grown, he +could see better by sitting on her knee; and she +had clasped him round the waist, as if she had +found out that he trembled. Perhaps she had +heard his teeth chatter, though grandpapa did not. +Temmy hoped they would not chatter to-night, +as he did not wish that uncle Arthur should hear +them; but Mrs. Sneyd was not to be at hand. +She declared that she should be less tired with +walking to the lodge than with mounting to the +observatory. She would go and spend an hour +with her daughter, and have some talk with +Ephraim by the way.</p> + +<p class='c001'>There needed no excuse for Temmy’s being +out of breath, after mounting all the stairs in the +house, and the ladder of the observatory to boot; +and the planet which he was to see being still +low in the sky was reason enough for uncle Arthur +to hold him up to the end of the telescope. +He did not recover his breath, however, as the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.70'>70</span>moments passed on. This was a larger instrument +than he had ever looked through before, and +his present impressions were quite different from +any former experience. The palpable roundness +of the orb, the unfathomable black depth in which +it moved solitary, the silence,—all were as if new +to him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You see it?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, yes.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Another long silence, during which the boy +breathed yet more heavily.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You see it still?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No, uncle Arthur.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My dear boy, why did you not tell me? We +must overtake it. There! there it is once more! +You must not let it travel out of sight again.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“How can I stop it?” thought Temmy, and +he would fain have pressed his hands before his +eyes, as the silent vision traversed the space more +brightly and more rapidly, it seemed to him, every +moment. Arthur showed him, however,—not +how to stop the planet, but how to move the +instrument so as not to lose sight of it: he then +put a stool under him, and told him he could now +manage for himself. Dr. Sneyd had something +to show his son on the other side of the heavens.</p> + +<p class='c001'>If Temmy had had the spheres themselves to +manage, he could scarcely have been in a greater +trepidation. He assured himself repeatedly that +friends were at hand, but his head throbbed so +that he could scarcely hear their whispers, and +the orb now seemed to be dancing as he had +seen the reflection of the sun dance in a shaken +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.71'>71</span>basin of water. He would look at something +else. He jerked the telescope, and flash went +one light after another before his eyes, as if the +stars themselves were going out with a blaze. +This would never do. He must look at something +earthly. After another jerk to each side, +which did not serve his purpose, he pushed it up, +and saw—something which might belong to any +of the worlds in being,—for Temmy knew no more +about it than that it was most horrible. An +enormous black object swept across the area of +vision, again and again, as quick as lightning. +It would not leave off. Temmy uttered a shriek +of terror, and half slipped, half tumbled from his +stool.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What has the boy found? What can be the +matter?” asked grandpapa. Arthur presently +laughed, and told Temmy he was very clever to +have found what he should have thought it very +difficult to discover from this place—Arthur’s +own mill;—the new windmill on the mound, +whose sails were now turning rapidly in the evening +breeze. It was some comfort to learn that +his panic was not much to be wondered at. +Uncle Arthur knew what it was to take in too +near a range with a large telescope. He had +done so once, and had been startled with an apparition +of two red cheeks and two staring blue +eyes, apparently within half an inch of the end of +his own nose.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Here, Temmy,” said Dr. Sneyd, “try whether +you can read in this book.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Shall I go and get a candle, grandpapa?”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.72'>72</span>“No, no. I want to see whether a little star +yonder will be our candle. Lay the book in this +gleam of light, and try whether you can read.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Many strange things were still whisking before +Temmy’s eyes, but he could make out the small +print of the book. He was then shown the star +that gave the light,—one of the smallest in a +bright constellation. He heartily wished that +nobody would ask him to look at any more stars +to-night, and soon managed to slip away to the +little table, and show that he was amused with +turning a greater and a lesser light upon the +book, and showing with how little he could +read the title-page, and with how much the small +type of the notes. The next pleasant thing that +happened was the lamp being lighted.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Father,” said Arthur, “you seldom have me +for an assistant now. I am neither tired nor busy +to-night, and the sky is clear. Suppose we make +a long watch.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was only too happy. He produced +a light in one of his magical ways, and hung the +shade on the lamp, while Arthur arranged his +pens and paper, and laid his watch on the table. +Dr. Sneyd took his place at the best telescope +now in readiness, after various screwings and unscrewings, +and shiftings of the moveable boards. +Arthur meanwhile was cutting a pencil, with +which he invited Temmy to draw beside him. +Uncle Arthur thought Temmy would draw very +well if he chose. In a little while nothing was +to be heard but the brief directions of Dr. Sneyd +to his secretary, and the ticking of the watch on +the table.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.73'>73</span>Temmy was fast asleep, with his head resting +on his drawing, when he was called from below, +to go home.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Just see him down the ladder,” said Dr. +Sneyd.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No, thank you, grandpapa; I can always +get down.” In truth, Temmy always went down +much more quickly than he came up.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The next time a cloud came in the way, Dr. +Sneyd observed,</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Temple is ruining that boy. He will leave +him no nerve,—no sense. What will his many +thousand acres be worth to him without?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do you think he will ever have those many +thousand acres, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I almost wish he may not. Perhaps his best +chance would be in his being left to manage for +himself in some such way as you have done, Arthur. +Such a call on his energies would be the +best thing for him, if it did not come too <a id='corr73.20'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='late.'>late.”</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_73.20'><ins class='correction'>late.”</ins></a></span></p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur had a strong persuasion that it might +come at any time. He was by no means satisfied +that the many thousand acres were still Temple’s. +He was very sure that much of the gentleman’s +wealth must have evaporated during his incessant +transmutations of meadows into pleasure-grounds, +and flower-gardens into shrubberies, and hot-houses +into baths, and stables into picturesque +cottages, and cottages into stables again. He +was seldom seen three times on the same horse; +and it was certain that the money he had locked +up in land would never be productive while he +remained its owner. Who would come and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.74'>74</span>settle under such a proprietor, when land as good, +and liberty to boot, was to be had elsewhere? +Temple himself was contracting his cultivation +every year. The more he laid out unproductively, +the less remained to be employed productively. +If Arthur had had one-tenth part of what Temple +had wasted since he settled at Briery Creek, his +days of anxiety and excessive toil might have +been over long ago.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is all for the best, Arthur. You would +not have been happy in the possession of Temple’s +money, subject to his caprices, poor man! +Nobody is more easy than I am under pecuniary +obligation; but all depends on the quarter whence +it comes, and the purposes for which the assistance +is designed. I accepted this observatory +from you, you remember, when I knew that it +cost you something to give up your time and +labour to it; and I dare say I should have accepted +the same thing from Temple, if he had +happened to offer it, because, in such a case, the +good of science could be the only object. But, +if I were you, I would rather work my own way +up in the world than connect myself with such a +man as Temple. The first time he wanted something +to fidget himself about, he would be for +calling out of your hands all he had lent you.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“One would almost bear such a risk,” said +Arthur, “for the sake of the settlement. My +poor sister makes the best of matters by talking +everywhere of the quantity of labour her husband +employs. But I think she must see that that +employment must soon come to an end if no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.75'>75</span>returns issue from it. I am sure I should be +glad to employ much more labour, and in a way +which would yield a maintenance for a still greater +quantity next year, if I had the laying out of the +money Temple wastes on his caprices. I am not +complaining, father, on my own account. My +hardest time is over, and I shall soon be doing as +well as I could wish. I am now thinking of the +interests of the place at large. It seems too hard +that the richest man among us should at the same +time keep away new settlers by holding more +land than he can cultivate, waste his capital, instead +of putting it out to those who would employ +it for his and the common good, and praise himself +mightily for his liberal expenditure, holding +the entire community obliged to him for it, every +time he buys a new luxury which will yield no +good beyond his own selfish pleasure.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I am afraid you think the community has +little to thank me for, Arthur? Perhaps, in our +present state of affairs, the money I have ought to +go towards tilling the ground, instead of exploring +the heavens.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"My dear sir, no. I differ from you entirely. +You do not live beyond your income, nor——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Give your mother the credit of that, Arthur. +But for her, my little property would have flown +up to the moon long ago.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“But, father, I was going to say that what I +and others here produce is but the means of +living, after all. It would be deplorable to sacrifice +the end to them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What end? Do you mean the pleasure of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.76'>76</span>star-gazing? I should be delighted to hear +that.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Pleasure,—whether of star-gazing, or of any +thing else that is innocent and virtuous,—that is +really happiness. If Temple is really happy +over his foreign wines, I am sure I have no more +objection to his drinking them than to my men +enjoying their cider. Let it be his end, if he is capable +of no higher, as long as his pleasures do not +consume more than his income. Much more may +I be willing that you should enjoy your star-gazing, +when out of the gratification to yourself +arises the knowledge which ennobles human life, +and the truth for which, if we do not live now, +we shall assuredly live hereafter."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I have always trusted, Arthur, that the means +which have been bestowed upon me would not +prove to be lost. Otherwise, I would have taken +my axe on my shoulder, and marched off to the +forest with you.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Father, it is for such as you that forests and +prairies should be made to yield double, if the +skill of man could ensure such fruitfulness. It +is for such as you that the husbandman should +lead forth his sons before the dawn, and instruct +them to be happy in toiling for him +whose light in yon high place is yet twinkling,—who +has been working out God’s truth for men’s +use while they slept."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Our husbandmen are not of the kind you +speak of, Arthur. I see them look up as they +pass, as if they thought this high chamber a folly +of the same sort as Temple’s Chinese alcove.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.77'>77</span>“I think you mistake them, sir. I can answer +for those with whom I have to do. They see all +the difference between Temple’s restless discontent +and your cheerfulness. They see that he +has no thought beyond himself, while you have +objects of high and serious interest ever before +your mind’s eye; objects which, not comprehending, +they can respect, because the issue is a +manifestation of wisdom and benignity.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Enough! enough!” cried the doctor. "I +have no complaint to make of my neighbours, I +am sure. I should be a very ungrateful man, if I +fancied I had. I am fully aware of the general disposition +of men to venerate science, and to afford +large aid to those who pursue it, on a principle of +faith in its results. My belief in this is not at +all shaken by what befel me in England; but, as +I have appeared here accidentally,—a philosopher +suddenly lighting in an infant community +instead of having grown up out of it, it was fair +to doubt the light in which I am regarded. If +the people hated me as a magician, or despised +me as an idle man, I think it would be no wonder."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I am glad you hold your faith, father, in the +natural veneration of society for the great ends +of human life. I believe it must be a strong influence, +indeed, which can poison men’s minds +against their legislators, and philosophers, and +other wise men who neither dig nor manufacture. +I believe it must be such a silver tongue as never +yet spoke that could persuade any nation that its +philosophers are not its best benefactors.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.78'>78</span>"True. It was not the English nation that +drove me hither; and those who did it never +complained of my pursuits,—only of what they +supposed my principles. I wish I could bear all +the sorrow of the mistake."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Be satisfied to let them bear some of it, +father. It will help to guard them against a repetition +of it. I am sure your own share is +enough.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In one sense it is, Arthur. Do you know, +I find myself somewhat changed. I perceive it +when I settle myself down to my pursuits; and +to a greater extent than I anticipated. It may +be owing in part to the want of the facilities I +had enjoyed for so many years, and never thought +to part with more. I sometimes wonder whether +I should be the same man again at home, among——But +let all that pass. What I was thinking +of, and what your mother and I oftenest think of, +is the hardship of your having to bear a part,—so +large a part in our misfortune. I should wonder +to see you toiling as you do, from month to +month,—(for I know that wealth is no great +object with you,)—if I did not suspect——But +I beg your pardon. I have no right to force +your confidence."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Go on, father.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Well, to say the truth, I suspect that you +left something more behind you than you gave +us reason to suppose. If you had not come of +your own free choice, this idea would have made +both your mother and me very unhappy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I have hopes that she will come, father. I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.79'>79</span>have been waiting to tell you, only for a prospect +of the time when I might go for her. Nothing +is settled, or I would have told you long ago; but +I have hopes.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was so long silent, thinking how +easily the use of some of Temple’s wasted money +would have completed Arthur’s happiness ere this,—benefiting +Temple and the whole community at +the same time,—that his son feared he was disappointed. +He had no apprehension of his being +displeased at any part of his conduct.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I hoped the prospect would have given you +pleasure, father,” he said, in a tone of deep mortification.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"My dear son, so it does—the greatest satisfaction, +I assure you; though, indeed, I do not +know how you were to become aware of it without +my telling you. I know my wife’s opinion +of her to be the same as my own. I only hope +she will be to you all that may repay you for +what you have been to us: indeed, I have no +doubt of it."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur was perfectly happy; happy enough to +observe that the clouds were parting, and that,—as +science had been so lately pronounced the +great end for which his father was living,—it +was a pity his observations should not be renewed.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If science be the great object we think it,” +observed the doctor the next time he was obliged +to suspend his labours, “it seems strange that it +should be pursued by so few. At present, for +one who devotes himself to the end, thousands +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.80'>80</span>look not beyond the mere means of living. I am +not afraid to call it the end to you, though I +would not have done so in my pulpit this morning +without explanation. We understand one +another.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Perfectly; that since the full recognition of +truth is virtue, science is the true end. I hope, +I believe, I discern the method by which more +and more labour will be withdrawn from the +means to be transferred to the end. For a long +time past,—ever since I have been in the habit +of comparing you and your pursuits with the +people about you and their pursuits—ever since +I came here,—I have been arriving at my present +conviction, that every circumstance of our +social condition,—the most trifling worldly interest +of the meanest of us,—bears its relation +to this great issue, and aids the force of tendency +towards it."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You have come hither for something worth +gaining, then: it is worth while to cross land +and sea for such a conviction. Can I aid you +with confirmation from the stars?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"No doubt; for all knowledge, come whence +it may,—from incalculable heights or unfathomable +depths,—all new knowledge of the forces of +nature affords the means of setting free a quantity +of human labour to be turned to new purposes. +In the infancy of the race, the mind had +no instruments but the unassisted hands. By +degrees, the aid of other natural forces was called +in; by degrees, those forces have been overruled +to more and more extended purposes, and further +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.81'>81</span>powers brought into subjection, setting free, at +every new stage of acquisition, an immense proportion +of human labour, and affording a glimpse,—almost +too bright to be met by our yet feeble +vision,—of times when material production—the +means of living, shall be turned over to the machinery +of nature, only superintended by man, +whose life may then be devoted to science, +‘worthy of the name,’ which may, in its turn, +have then become the means to some yet higher +end than is at present within our ken."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“In those days, then, instead of half-a-dozen +labourers being virtuously employed in production +for themselves and one unproductive philosopher, +the six labourers will themselves have +become philosophers, supported and cherished by +the forces of nature, controlled by the intellect of +perhaps one productive labourer.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Just so; the original philosopher being the +cause of this easy production by his ascertainment +of the natural forces in question. This +result is merely the protraction of the process +which has been going on from the earliest infancy +of the race. If Noah, in his first moonlight +walk upon Ararat, could have seen mirrored +in the watery waste the long procession of gigantic +powers which time should lead forth to +pass under the yoke of man, would he not have +decided (in his blindness to the new future of +man) that nothing would be left for man to do?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Probably. And in order to exhibit to him +the whole case, he must be carried forward to +man’s new point of view.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.82'>82</span>“And so it will be with some second Noah, +whose happier lot it shall be to see knowledge +cover the earth, bearing on its bosom all that is +worthy of the new heavens and new earth; while +all that is unworthy of them is sunk and lost. +By the agency of his gigantic servants he may +be raised to that pinnacle of the universe whence +he may choose to look forth again, and see what +new services are appointed to man, and who are +the guides and guardians allotted to his higher +state.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And what will he behold?——But it is +foolish to inquire. One must be there to know."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"To know fully. But though we can but +barely speculate upon what he will see, we may +decidedly pronounce upon what he will not see. +We cannot tell how many galaxies will be perceived +to complete the circle of Nature’s crown, +nor what echoes of her diapason shall be wafted +to the intent spirit. We cannot tell how near he +may be permitted to approach to behold the evolution +of a truth from apparent nothingness, as +we are apt to fancy a seraph watches the creation +of one of yonder worlds—first distinguishing +the dim apparition of an orb emerging from the +vacuum, then seeing it moulded into order, and +animated with warmth, and invested with light, +till myriads of adorers are attracted to behold it +sent forth by the hand of silence on its everlasting +way. We cannot tell to what depth man may +then safely plunge, to repose in the sea-caves, +and listen to the new tale that its thunders interpret, +and collect around him the tributaries of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.83'>83</span>knowledge that come thronging down the green +vistas of ocean light. We cannot tell what way +will be opened before him to the dim chambers +of the earth, where Patience presides, while her +slow and blind agents work in dumb concert from +age to age, till, the hour being come, the spirit +of the volcano, or the angel of the deluge, arrives +to burst their prison-house. Of all these things +we can yet have but a faint conception; but of +some things which will not be we can speak with +certainty."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That when these inanimate powers are found +to be our best servants, the immortal mind of man +will be released from the drudgery which may be +better performed by them. Then, never more +will the precious term of human life be spent in +a single manual operation; never more will the +elastic limbs of children grow rigid under one +uniform and excessive exercise; never more will +the spirit sit, self-gnawing, in the fetters to which +it has been condemned by the tyranny of ignorance, +which must have its gratifications. Then +bellows may breathe in the tainted streams of our +factories, and human lungs be spared, and men’s +dwellings be filled with luxuries, and no husbandman +be reduced from his sovereignty of reason +to a similitude with the cattle of his pastures. +But much labour has already been set free by +the employment of the agency of nature; and +how little has been given to science!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It seems as if there must ever be an intermediate +state between the discovery of an instrument +and its application to its final use. I am +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.84'>84</span>far from complaining, as you know, of the nature +of human demands being what it has been, as, +from time to time, liberated industry has afforded +a new supply. I am far from complaining that +new graces have grown up within the domains +of the rich, and that new notions of convenience +require a larger satisfaction day by day. Even +when I perceive that a hundred heads and hands +are necessary to the furnishing forth of a gentleman’s +equipage, and that the wardrobe of a lady +must consist of, at least, a hundred and sixty +articles, I am far from wishing that the world +should be set back to a period when men produced +nothing but what was undeniably essential.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You would rather lead it on to the time when +consumption will not be stimulated as it is at +present?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"When it shall be of a somewhat different +kind. A perpetual stimulus seems to me to be +provided for by labour being more and more set +at liberty, since all the fruits of labour constitute +at once the demand and the supply. But the +desires and tastes which have grown up under a +superabundance of labour and a dearth of science +are not those which may be looked for when new +science (which is as much the effect as the cause +of new methods of production) shall have opened +fresh worlds to human tastes. The spread of +luxury, whether it be pronounced a good or an +evil, is, I conceive, of limited duration. It has +served, and it still serves, to employ a part of the +race and amuse another part, while the transition +is being made from one kind of simplicity to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.85'>85</span>another,—from animal simplicity to intellectual +simplicity."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The mechanism of society thus resembles +the mechanism of man’s art. What was done as +a simple operation by the human arm, is effected +as a complicated operation by instruments of wood +and steel. But the time surely comes when this +complexity is reduced, and the brute instrument +is brought into a closer and a still closer analogy +with the original human mechanism. The more +advanced the art, the simpler the mechanism.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Just so. If, in respect of our household +furniture, equal purposes of convenience are found +to be answered by a smaller variety of articles, +the industry which is thus released will be free +to turn to the fine arts,—to the multiplication of +objects which embody truth and set forth beauty,—objects +which cannot be too extensively multiplied. +If our ladies, at the same time, discover +that equal grace and more convenience are attained +by a simpler costume, a more than classical +simplicity will prevail, and the toil of operatives +will be transferred to some higher species +of production."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We should lose no time, then, in making a +list of the present essentials of a lady’s wardrobe, +to be preserved among the records of the race. +Isaiah has presented one, which exhibits the +maidens of Judea in their days of wealth. But +I believe they are transcended by the damsels of +Britain.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I am sure the British ladies transcend the +Jewish in their method of justifying their luxury. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.86'>86</span>The Jewesses were satisfied that they enjoyed +luxury, and looked no farther. The modern ladies +extol it as a social virtue,—except the few who +denounce the very enjoyment of it as a crime. +How long will the two parties go on disputing +whether luxury be a virtue or a crime?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Till they cease to float themselves on the +surface of morals on the support of old maxims +of morality; till they look with their own eyes +into the evidence of circumstance, and learn to +make an induction for themselves. They will see +that each side of the question has its right and its +wrong; that there is no harm, but much good +in enjoyment, regarded by itself; and that there +is no good, but much harm in causing toil which +tends to the extinction of enjoyment.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“In other words, that Dr. B’s pleasure in +his picture gallery is a virtuous pleasure while he +spends upon it only what he can well spare; and +that Temple’s hot-houses are a vicious luxury, +if, as we suspect, he is expending upon them the +capital on which he has taught his labourers to +depend as a subsistence fund.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Exactly; and that the milk-maid may virtuously +be married in the silk gown which her +bridegroom thinks becoming, provided it is purchased +with her surplus earnings; while an empress +has no business with a yard of ribbon if she +buys it after having parted with the last shilling +of her revenue at the gaming-table. Silk is beautiful. +If this were all, let every body wear silk; +but if the consequence of procuring silk be more +pain to somebody than the wearing of silk gives +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.87'>87</span>pleasure, it becomes a sin to wear silk. A +thriving London tradesman may thus innocently +dress his wife and nine daughters in Genoa velvet, +while the spendthrift nobleman may do a +guilty deed in arraying himself in a new fashion +of silk hose.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Our countrywomen may be expected to defend +all luxurious expenditure as a virtue, while +their countrymen,—the greyheaded as well as +youths,—are overheard extolling a war expenditure +as a public good. Both proceed on the +notion that benefit resides in mere consumption, +instead of in the reproduction or in the enjoyment +which results; that toil is the good itself, +instead of the condition of the good, without which +toil is an evil."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If war can be defended as a mode of expenditure +by any but gunsmiths and army clothiers, +there is no saying what curse we may not next +find out to be a blessing. Of all kinds of unproductive +consumption, that occasioned by war is +the very worst. Life, and the means of life, are +there extinguished together, and one might as +well try to cause the resurrection of a slain army +on the field of battle, as hope for any return to +the toil of the labourers who equipped them for +the strife. The sweat of the artisan falls as +fruitless as the tears of the widow and orphan. +For every man that dies of his wounds abroad, +there is another that pines in hunger at home. +The hero of to-day may fancy his laurels easily +won; but he ought to know that his descendants +of the hundredth generation will not have been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.88'>88</span>able to pay the last farthing of their purchase-money.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And this is paid, not so much out of the +luxuries of the rich as the necessaries of the poor. +It is not so much one kind of unproductive consumption +being exchanged for another as a productive +consumption being stinted for the sake +of an unproductive. The rich may contribute +some of their revenue to the support of a war, +but the middling classes give,—some a portion +of their capital, and others the revenue of which +they would otherwise make capital,—so that even +if the debts of a war were not carried forward to a +future age, the evil consequences of an abstraction +of capital are."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"It appears, however, as if unproductive consumption +was much lessened at home during a +war. One may see the difference in the very +aspect of the streets in London, and yet more in +the columns of newspapers. Puffing declines as +soon as a war breaks out,—not that puffing is a +sign of any thing but a glut of the article puffed,—but +this decline of puffing signifies rather a cessation +of the production of the community than +such a large demand as needs no stimulating."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Yes; one may now see in London fire-arms +or scarlet cloth exhibited at the windows of an +establishment where, during the peace, might be +found ‘the acmè of paper-hanging;’ and where +might formerly be had floor-cloth of a marvellous +number of yards without seam, whose praises +were blazoned in large letters from the roof to +the ground, ball cartridges are piled, and gunpowder +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.89'>89</span>stands guarded, day and night. Since +gluts work their own cure, and puffing comes of +gluts, puffing is only a temporary absurdity. +Long may it be before we are afflicted with it +here!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Afflicted?—Well! looked at by itself, perhaps +it is an affliction, as all violations of truth, +all exhibitions of folly, are; but one may draw +pleasure too from every thing which is a sign of +the times."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, yes; there is not only the strong present +pleasure of philosophising on states of society, +but every indication of what it serves to the +thinker, at the same time, as a prophecy of better +things that shall be. But, do you not find it +pleasanter to go to worship, as we went this +morning, through green pastures and by still +waters, where human industry made its appeals +to us in eloquent silence, and men’s dwellings bore +entire the aspect of sabbath repose, than to pass +through paved streets, with a horizon of brick-walls, +and tokens on every side, not only of +week day labour, but of struggle for subsistence, +and subservience for bread? The London shopkeepers +do not remove their signs on a Sunday. +If one catches a glimpse here and there of a +spectacled old gentleman reading his Bible in +the first-floor parlour, or meets a train of spruce +children issuing from their father’s door at the +sound of the church-bell, one sees, at the same +time, that their business is to push the sale of +floor-cloth without seam, and to boast of the +acmè of paper-hanging.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.90'>90</span>"There may be more immediate pleasure in +the one Sabbath walk than in the other, Arthur, +but they yield, perhaps, equally the aliment of +piety. Whatever indicates the condition of man, +points out, not only the species of duty owing to +man, but the species of homage due to God,—the +character of the petitions appropriate to the +season. All the methods of going to worship +may serve the purpose of preparation for the sanctuary. +The nobleman may lean back in his carriage +to meditate; the priest may stalk along in +reverie, unconscious of all around him; the citizen-father +may look with pride on the train of +little ones with whom he may spend the leisure +of this day; and the observing philanthropist +may go forth early and see a thousand incidents +by the way, and all may alike enter the church-door +with raised and softened hearts."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And all listen with equal faith to the promise +of peace on earth and good-will to men?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes, and the observer not the least, if he +observe for holy purposes.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"O, father, think of the gin-shop and the +news-office that he must pass by the way! They +are infinitely worse than the visible puffery. +Think of the thronged green-grocer’s shop, where +you may see a widow in her soiled weeds, flushed +with drink, careless of the little ones that cling +to her gown, hungering as they are for the few +potatoes which are all she can purchase after +having had her morning dram!—Think of the +father cheapening the refuse of the Saturday’s +market, and passing on, at last, wondering when +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.91'>91</span>his pale family will again taste meat! Think of +the insolent footmen, impeding the way to the +church-door, while they amuse themselves with +the latest record of licentiousness in the paper of +the day!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I have often seen all this, Arthur, and have +found in it——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Nothing that necessarily hardens the heart, +I know; on the contrary, the compassion excited +is so painful that devotion is at times the only +refuge. But as for the congeniality——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What is the value of faith, if it cannot assimilate +all things to itself? And as for Christian +faith, where and amidst what circumstances did +it arise? Was it necessary, in going up to the +temple, to overlook the blind beside the way, and +to stop the ears when the contention of brethren +was heard, and to avoid the proud Pharisee and +the degraded publican? Was the repose of the +spirit broken when an adultress entered the sacred +precincts? Were the avenues to the temple +blocked up that the holy might worship in peace? +And when they issued forth, were they sent +home to their closets, forbidden to look to the +right hand or to the left for fear of defilement?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If so, it was by order of the Pharisees. You +are right, father. The holiest did not even find +it necessary to resort to mountain solitudes, or to +the abodes of those who were pure as themselves, +for the support of their faith or the repose of their +devotion. Aliment for piety was found at the +table of the publican, and among the sufferers +beside Bethesda. To the pure every emotion +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.92'>92</span>became a refining process, and whatever was not +found congenial was made so. It may certainly +be the same with the wise and the benignant of +every age.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is indeed a halting faith which dreads as +common that which God has cleansed and sanctified; +and where is God’s own mark to be recognized +but in the presence of joy and sorrow, +of which he is the sole originator and distributor? +Whatever bears a relation to joy and sorrow is a +call to devotion; and no path to the sanctuary is +more sacred than another, while there are traces +of human beings by the way.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You prefer then the pastures which tell of +our prosperity to the wilds of the prairie; and I +observed that you dwelt upon the portraits of +familiar faces before you left your study this +morning.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I did; and many a time have I dwelt quite +as earnestly on strange faces in which shone no +friendship for me, and no consciousness of the +objects of the day. I read in their human countenance,—human, +whether it be vile or noble,—the +promise, that as all things are for some use, +and as all men contribute while all have need, the +due distribution will in time be made, causes of +contention be done away, and the sources of +social misery be dried up, so that——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"So that we may, through all present dismay +and vicissitude, look forward to ultimate peace on +earth and good-will towards men. Yes, all things +are of use to some, from the stalk of flax that +waves in my field below, to Orion now showing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.93'>93</span>himself as the black cloud draws off,—all for purposes +of support to body or mind,—all, whether +appropriated, or left at large because they cannot +be appropriated. Let us hope that each will, +at length, have his share; and as Providence has +placed no limit to the enjoyment of his gifts but +that of food, we may learn so to understand one +another’s desires as mutually to satisfy them; +so that there may not be too much of one thing +to the injury of some, and too little of another +thing, to the deprivation of more."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If we could but calculate the present uses of +any one gift!” said Dr. Sneyd, smiling; “but +this is a task for the philosophers of another age, +or another state. I would fain know how many +living beings are reposing or pasturing on your +flax-stalk, and how much service will be rendered +in the course of the processes it has to go through. +I would fain know how many besides ourselves +are drawing from yonder constellation knowledge +and pleasure.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“More than there are stars in the heaven, +besides the myriads that have their home in one +or other of its worlds. What more knowledge +are we to derive to-night?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>And Arthur returned to his seat and his task, +which he had quitted while the sky was clouded. +His father observed, with surprise, how far the +twinkling lights had travelled from their former +place.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is later than I thought, Arthur,” said he. +“I ought not to have kept you so long from +your rest, busy as your days are.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.94'>94</span>Arthur was quite disposed to go on, till sunrise, +if his father wished to take advantage of his +services. He must meet his men very early in +the dewy morning to mow, and the night was +now so far advanced that it would be as well to +watch it out. Dr. Sneyd was very <a id='corr94.5'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='thankfnl'>thankful</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_94.5'><ins class='correction'>thankful</ins></a></span> for +his aid. When they had satisfied themselves that +the household were gone to rest, and had replenished +the lamp, nothing but brief directions +and the ticking of the watch was again heard in +this upper chamber till the chirping of birds summoned +the mower to fetch his scythe.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.5' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter V.</span><br> <br> INTRODUCTIONS.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>The true cause of Mr. Temple’s Sunday headache +was spleen at the occurrence of the morning. +That Dr. Sneyd should preach, and in a market-house, +and that soldiers should come some miles +to hear him was, he declared, a perfect scandal +to the settlement. He could not countenance it.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The scandal continued, without the countenance +of the scrupulous gentleman, till the autumn, +when the reason of certain magnificent doings at +Temple Hall began to be apparent. Probably +the only persons who could have told what all +this new building meant were forbidden to do so, +as Mrs. Sneyd could never obtain a word from +her daughter in return for all her conjectures +about what the Lodge was to grow into at last, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.95'>95</span>the builders having no sooner done one task than +they had to set about another. There was infinite +hurry and bustle about these last additions. +Workmen were brought from a distance to +relieve those on the spot, that no part of the long +summer days might be lost. Wall rose above +wall; beam followed beam from the forest, and +planks issued from the sawpit with marvellous +speed. One would have thought the President +was expected on a visit before winter; and, in +fact, a rumour was current in the village that +some new capitalists were coming to look about +them, and were to be tempted to abide on some +of the great man’s lands. This seemed the more +probable as a substantial house was being built +in the Lodge grounds, besides the new wing (as +it appeared to be) of the mansion itself. Every +body agreed that this house must be intended for +somebody.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The truth burst forth, one day late in the +autumn, that seats instead of partitions were +being put up in the new building, and that the +windows were to be unlike those of the rest of +the house:—in short, that it was to be a chapel. +The servants spread abroad the fact that company +was expected in a few days; to stay, they +believed, all the winter.—Ay! till the new house +should be ready, every body supposed. Meantime, +Mrs. Temple said nothing more to her +family than that friends of Mr. Temple’s were +shortly coming to stay at the Lodge. She had +never seen them, and knew but little about +them:—hoped they might prove an acquisition +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.96'>96</span>to her father:—depended upon Arthur’s civilities, +if he should have it in his power,—and so forth.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was seldom that Mr. Temple called on his +father-in-law,—especially in the middle of the day, +when less irksome things could be found to do; +but, one bright noon, he was perceived approaching +the house, driving the barouche, in which +were seated two ladies and a gentleman, besides +the heir of Temple Lodge. Dr. Sneyd stepped +out of his low window into the garden, and met +them near the gate, where he was introduced to +the Rev. Ralph Hesselden, pastor of Briery +Creek, and Mrs. Hesselden.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The picturesque clergyman and his showy lady +testified all outward respect to the venerable old +man before them. They forgot for a moment +what they had been told of his politics being +"sad, very sad; quite deplorable,"—and +remembered only that he was the father of their +hostess. It was not till a full half hour after +that they became duly shocked at a man of his +powers having been given over to the delusions +of human reason, and at his profaneness in having +dared to set up for a guide to others while he was +himself blinded in the darkness of error. There +was so little that told of delusion in the calm +simplicity of the doctor’s countenance, and something +so unlike profaneness and presumption in +his mild and serious manners, that it was not +surprising that his guests were so long in discovering +the evil that was in him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd was busy about a task into which +she put no small share of her energies. She had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.97'>97</span>heard that nothing that could be eaten was half +so good as pomegranate preserve, well made. +In concert with Arthur, she had grown <a id='corr97.3'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='promegranates'>pomegranates</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_97.3'><ins class='correction'>pomegranates</ins></a></span> +with great success, and she was this +morning engaged in preserving them; using her +utmost skill, in the hope that if it should prove +an impossible thing to make her husband care +for one preserve rather than another while he +was in health, this might be an acceptable refreshment +in case of sickness; or that, at least, +Temmy would relish the luxury; and possibly +Temple himself be soothed by it in one of the +fits of spleen with which he was apt to cloud the +morning meal.—The mess was stewing, and the +lady sipping and stirring, when her husband +came to tell her who had arrived, and to request +her to appear;—came instead of sending, to give +her the opportunity of removing all traces of +mortification before she entered the room.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Mr. and Mrs. Who?—a pastor? what, a +methodist?—chaplain at the Lodge, and pastor of +Briery Creek?—My dear, this is aimed at you."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"One can hardly say that, as I only preached +because there was no one else.—I must not stay. +You will come directly, my dear."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I do not see how I can, my dear,"—glancing +from her husband to her stewpan, under a sense +of outraged affection with respect to both of +them. “To take one so by surprise! I am sure +it was done on purpose,”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Then let us carry it off with as little consternation +as we can. Peggy will take your +place.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.98'>98</span>"And spoil all I have been doing, I know. +And my face is so scorched, I am not fit to be +seen.—I’ll tell you what, my dear," she went on, +surrendering her long spoon to Peggy, and +whisking off her apron,—“if I appear now, I +will not go and hear this man preach. I cannot +be expected to do that.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We will see about that when Sunday comes,” +the doctor turned back to say, as he hastened +back to the party who were amusing themselves +with admiring the early drawings of Mrs. Temple, +which hung against the walls of her mother’s +parlour. The doctor brought in with him a +literary journal of a later date than any which +had arrived at the Lodge, and no one suspected +that he had been ministering to his wife’s good +manners. Mrs. Temple was in pain for what +might follow the introduction.</p> + +<p class='c001'>There was no occasion for her inward tremors, +nor for Dr. Sneyd’s quick glance at his wife over +his spectacles. Mrs. Sneyd might be fully +trusted to preserve her husband’s dignity. She +instantly appeared,—so courteous and self-possessed +that no one could have perceived that +she had been hurried. The scorched cheeks +passed with the strangers for the ruddy health +attendant on a country life, and they benevolently +rejoiced that she seemed likely to have some time +before her yet, in which to retract her heresies, +and repent of all that she had believed and acted +upon through life. It was cheering to think of +the safety that might await her, if she should +happily survive the doctor, and come under their +immediate guidance.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.99'>99</span>The ladies were left to themselves while Temple +was grimacing (as he did in certain states of +nervousness) and whipping the shining toe of his +right boot, and the other gentleman making the +plunge into science and literature in which the +doctor always led the way when he could lay +hold of a man of education. One shade of +disappointment after another passed over his +countenance when he was met with questions +whether one philosopher was not pursuing his +researches into regions whence many had returned +infidels,—with conjectures whether an eminent +patriot was not living without God in the world,—and +with doubts whether a venerable philanthropist +might still be confided in, since he had gone hand +in hand in a good work with a man of doubtful +seriousness. At last, his patience seemed to be +put to the proof, for his daughter heard him say,</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Well, sir, as neither you nor I are infidels, +nor likely to become so, suppose we let that +matter pass. Our part is with the good tidings +of great deeds doing on the other side of the +world. The faith of the doers is between themselves +and their God.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"But, sir, consider the value of a lost soul—"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I have so much hope of many souls being +saved by every measure of wise policy and true +philanthropy, that I cannot mar my satisfaction +by groundless doubts of the safety of the movers. +Let us take advantage of the permission to judge +them by their fruits, and then, it seems to me, we +may make ourselves very easy respecting them. +Can you satisfy me about this new method,—it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.100'>100</span>is of immense importance,—of grinding +lenses——”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Hesselden could scarcely listen further, so +shocked was he with the doctor’s levity and +laxity in being eager about bringing new worlds +within human ken, while there seemed to the +pious a doubt whether the agents of divine wisdom +and benignity would be cared for by him who +sent them.—Mr. Hesselden solemnly elevated his +eyebrows, as he looked towards his wife; and the +glance took effect. The lady began inquiring of +Mrs. Sneyd respecting the spiritual affairs of the +settlement. She hoped the population had a +serious turn.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Why, Madam,” replied Mrs. Sneyd, “every +thing has so conduced to sober the minds of our +neighbours, that there has been little room yet +for frivolity among us. The circumstances of +hardship, of one kind or another, that led us all +from our old homes were very serious; and it is +a serious matter to quit country and family and +friends; and the first casting about for subsistence +in a new land is enough to bring thought into the +wildest brain; and now, when we have gathered +many comforts about us, and can thank Providence +with full hearts, we are not at liberty for +idleness and levity. I assure you that Dr. Sneyd +has had to enlarge more against anxiety for the +morrow than against carelessness or vain-glory.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I rejoice to hear it. This is good as far as it +goes. But I was inquiring about more important +affairs.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In more important matters still, I hope you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.101'>101</span>will find much that is encouraging. We are +naturally free from the vices of extreme wealth or +poverty. Among the few whose labours have +proved fruitful, there is a sobriety of manners +which I think will please you; and none are so +poor as to be tempted to dishonesty, or driven +into recklessness. The cry of ‘stop thief’ has +never been heard in Briery Creek, and you will +neither meet a drunken man nor a damsel dressed +in <a id='corr101.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='tawdy'>tawdry</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_101.10'><ins class='correction'>tawdry</ins></a></span> finery.—By the way, Louisa," she +continued, addressing her daughter, “I am sorry +there is any difficulty about Rundell’s getting +more land, and Chapman’s setting up a general +store. I have some fears that as our neighbours’ +earnings increase, we may see them spent in idle +luxuries, unless there is a facility in making a +profitable investment.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Where is the difficulty, ma’am?” asked Mrs. +Temple. “If Rundell wants land, I rather think +Mr. Temple has plenty for him.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I understand not.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple was about to argue the matter on +the ground of her husband’s thousands of uncultivated +acres, but recollecting that there might +be more in the matter than was apparent to her, +she stopped short, and there was a pause.—At +length, Mrs. Hesselden, turning the fullest aspect +of her enormous white chip bonnet on Mrs. +Sneyd, supposed that as the neighbourhood was +so very moral, there were no public amusements +in Briery Creek.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I am sorry to say there are none at present. +Dr. Sneyd and my son begin, next week, a humble +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.102'>102</span>attempt at a place of evening resort; and now +that Mr. Hesselden will be here to assist them, I +hope our people will soon be provided with a +sufficiency of harmless amusement.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"You begin next week?—A prayer meeting?" +asked the lady, turning to Mrs. Temple. Mrs. +Temple believed not.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We <i>have</i> our meetings for intercourse on +the subjects you refer to,” replied Mrs. Sneyd; +“but I understood you to be inquiring about +places of amusement. My son presented the +settlement with a cricket ground lately.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“A cricket ground, was it?” said Mrs. Temple. +“I thought it had been a bleaching ground. +I understood it was the ladies of the place who +were to be the better for his bounty.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"That is true also. The same ground serves +the washers on the Monday morning, and the +cricketers on the Saturday afternoon. You must +know, Mrs Hesselden, there is much trouble here +in getting soap enough,—and also candles,—for +the purposes of all. There is some objection, I +find, to a general store being set up; so that +only the richer of our neighbours can obtain a regular +supply of certain necessary articles; and +the poorer ones are just those who find it most +expensive and troublesome to make all the soap +and candles they want. My son, knowing how +much consumption is saved by association, as he +says, had a view to these poorer settlers in opening +the bleaching ground. They are truly glad to +get their linen washed twice as well in the field as +at home, and at half the expense of soap. They +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.103'>103</span>are very willing to clear the place for the cricketers +three afternoons in the week; and are +already beginning to pay off the cost incurred +for the shed, with the boilers and troughs. I +really hardly know which is the prettiest sight,—the +games of the active young men, when they +forget the worldly calculations which are apt to +engross new settlers too much,—or the merry +maidens in the field at noon, spreading out linen +and blankets of a whiteness that would be envied +by most of the professional laundresses that I +have known."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“All these things,” observed Mrs. Hesselden, +"are of inferior consequence. I mean——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Very true: I mention them chiefly as signs +of the times—not as the limit to which our improvements +have extended. We are anxious to +provide a reading-room for the youths, at the +same time that we open our school. My daughter +has no doubt told you about the school which +she is helping to form. We find that the newspapers +and journals which were always deposited +in the cricket-ground were so much relished by +the players in the intervals of their games, that +Dr. Sneyd and my son have determined to light +up and warm the school-house every evening +during the winter, to be the resort of all who +choose to go. Dr. Sneyd carries there the humble +beginning of a museum of natural history, +which it must be the care of our neighbours to +improve. They can easily do so by exchanging +the productions of our forest and prairie for what +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.104'>104</span>may be obtained from the societies Dr. Sneyd is +connected with in England and France. All the +publications sent to us will find their way to the +school-house; and when the snow comes to enable +a sleigh to bring us the packages of glass we +have been waiting for these eight months, the +doctor will erect his large telescope, and send an +inferior one down to the village for the use of his +star-gazing neighbours."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Observing Mrs. Hesselden’s supercilious silence, +Mrs. Sneyd proceeded, smiling,</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I have had my share in the ordering of the +affair, and have carried two points, <i>nem. con.</i> +The women are allowed as free ingress as their +husbands and brothers. I mentioned that candles +were scarce, and you do not need to be told that +much sewing must be done in our households. +By bringing their work to the school-house, +(which is within a stone’s throw of most of the +doors,) many of our hard-working mothers and +daughters will be spared the trouble and expense +of making above half as many candles as if each +must have one burning during the whole of the +long evenings of winter. What is more important,—they +will share the benefit of the reading +and other amusements that may be going on. +My other point is the dancing. I told Dr. Sneyd +that if he carried a telescope, and made them chill +themselves with star-gazing, I must beg leave to +carry a fiddle for them to warm their feet by when +they had done. Two fiddlers have turned up +already, and there are rumours of a flute-player; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.105'>105</span>and I have half promised my grandchild to lead +off the first dance, if he will persuade my son to +take me for a partner."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Hesselden hoped that others would also +be allowed to carry their points, and then there +would be prayer on meeting and parting in the +school-house. If it should be found that such an +exercise was incompatible with the dancing part +of the scheme, she trusted Mrs. Sneyd saw which +must give <a id='corr109.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='way.”'>way.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_109.10'><ins class='correction'>way.</ins></a></span></p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd would advocate no practice which +was incompatible with religious duty. In the +present case, she thought that the only concession +required was that each exercise should have its +proper season. None of the usual objections to +dancing would hold good here, she continued. +No shivering wretches stood without, while the rich +were making merry. There was no inducement to +extravagance, and no room for imprudence, and no +encouragement to idleness. There was no scope +for these vices among the working-class of Briery +Creek, and dancing was to them (what it would +be in many another place, if permitted) an innocent +enjoyment, a preventive of much solitary +self-indulgence, and a sweetener of many tempers. +In a society whose great danger was the +growth of a binding spirit of worldliness, social +mirth was an antidote which no moralist would +condemn, and which he would not dare to despise.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Hesselden, fearing that she could never +make Mrs. Sneyd comprehend how much more +she and her husband were than mere moralists, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.106'>106</span>quitted the subject till she could explain to Mrs. +Temple on the way home, that though the presence +of the Sneyds had undoubtedly been of +great use in fostering a morality which was better +than nothing, yet it was evidently high time that +more should be added, and certainly a great +blessing to Briery Creek that her husband and +she had arrived to breathe inspiration into the +social mass which was now lying,—if not dead,—yet +under the shadow of death.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd found time, before returning to +her pomegranates, to take a last wondering look +at the immensity of Mrs. Hesselden’s chip bonnet, +as it floated, splendid in its variegated trimming, +over the shrubs in her passage to the garden +gate.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I can never make out,” she observed to her +husband, "why so many of these very strict religious +people dress so luxuriously as they do. +Here is this lady,—infinitely scandalized, I perceive, +at our having introduced dancing,—dressed +after such a fashion as our maidens never +saw before. If they begin to bedizen themselves +with the money which might be spent profitably +in increasing the means of subsistence, or innocently +in procuring substantial comforts which +are now difficult to be had, I shall lay the blame +on Mrs. Hesselden’s bonnet. I remember observing +that I never saw so splendid a show-room +for dress as the new church we attended, in ——- +street, the Sunday before we left London. It is +very odd."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Not more strange, my dear, than that the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.107'>107</span>Friends should addict themselves much to the +furnishing their houses with expensive furniture, +and their tables with more costly and various +foods than other people. Not more strange than +that Martin, the Methodist, should turn strolling +player when he gave up his methodism; or that +the Irish betake themselves to rebellion when +stopped in their merry-makings; or that the English +artizan takes to the gin-shop when the fiddle +is prohibited in the public-house. Not more +strange, my dear, than that the steam of your +kettle should come out at the lid, if you stop up +the spout, or than that——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, you put me in mind of my preserves! +But how did you think Louisa looked to-day?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Not very well. There was a something—I +do not know what——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Well, I wondered whether you would observe. +It may be the contrast of Mrs. Hesselden’s dress +that made me remark the thing so much. It +really vexed me to see Louisa so dressed. That +collar was darned like any stocking-heel; and +how she got her bonnet ribbons dyed in this place, +I cannot think. What can be the meaning of +her being so shabby? It is so contrary to her +taste,—unless she has taken up a new taste, for +want of something to do."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd shook his head. He knew that +Temple left his lady no lack of something to do. +Temmy had also dropped a piece of information +about wax candles lately, which convinced the +doctor that the lady at the Hall was now compelled +to economize to the last degree in her own +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.108'>108</span>expenditure, whatever indulgence might still be +afforded to her tyrant’s tastes.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>He</i> looks wretchedly too,” observed Mrs. +Sneyd. “Not all his spruceness could hide it, if +he was as spruce as ever. But there is a change +in him too. One might almost call his ensemble +slovenly to-day, though it would be neatness itself +in many another man. I believe he half kills +himself with snuff. He did nothing but open +and shut his box to-day. So much snuff must be +very bad for a nervous man like him.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do you know, my dear,” said the doctor, +"I have been thinking lately whether we are not +all rather hard upon that poor man——Yes, yes, +I know. I am not going to defend, only to excuse +him a little. I am as unhappy as you can +be about all that Louisa has to go through with +him, and about his spoiling that poor boy for life,—doing +all that can be done to make him a dolt. +But I am sure the man suffers—suffers dreadfully."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Suffers! How?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Nay, you need but look in his face to see +whether he is a happy man or not; but what his +ailments are, I do not pretend to say. His nerves +torture him, I am certain——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd insinuated speculations about indulgence +in brandy, opium, spices, &c., and about +remorse, fear, and the whole demon band of the +passions. Dr. Sneyd’s conjecture was that Temple’s +affairs were in an unsatisfactory condition, +and that this trouble, acting on the mind of a coward, +probably drove him to the use of sufficient stimulus +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.109'>109</span>to irritate instead of relieving him. Great +allowance, he insisted, should be made for a man +in so pitiable a state, even by the parents of his +wife. This was so effectually admitted by the +good lady, that she not only sent a double portion +of pomegranate preserve to the Lodge, but restrained +her anger when she heard that Rundell +could not obtain liberty to invest as he pleased +the capital he had saved, owing to Temple’s evil +influence at the land-office; and that Arthur’s +interests were wantonly injured by his interference. +Arthur had taken great pains to secure a +supply of fresh meat and fresh butter for the approaching +winter; and besides the hope of profit +from his fine sheep and cows, he had the assurance +of the gratitude of his neighbours, who had +grown heartily weary of salt pork and salt butter +the winter before. But Mr. Temple now set up +a grand salting establishment; and made it generally +understood that only those who were +prudent enough to furnish themselves with his +cheap salt provision, rather than Mr. Sneyd’s +dear mutton, should have his custom in the market, +and his countenance at the land-office. Arthur’s +first-slain sheep had to be eaten up by his +father’s household and his own; and it was a +piece of great forbearance in Mrs. Sneyd, when +she heard that Arthur meant to kill no more +mutton, to say only, “The poor little man punishes +nobody so much as himself. I do not see +how he can relish his own fresh mutton very +much, while he prevents other people having +any.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.110'>110</span>“He cannot altogether prevent that, mother,” +said Arthur. "He may prevent mutton bearing +any price in the market, and cut off my gains; +but we may still slay a sheep now and then, for +ourselves; and find neighbours who will quietly +make such an exchange of presents as will take +off what we cannot consume. But I wish I +could see an end of this dictation,—this tyranny."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It does seem rather strange to have come to +a land of freedom to be in the power of such a +despot. I wonder the people do not shake him +off, and send him to play the tyrant farther in +the wilds.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“They are only waiting till his substance is all +consumed, I fancy. He has such a hold over the +investments of some, and finds so much employment +for the labour of others, that they will submit +to everything for a time. But his hour will +come, if he does not beware.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It may be all very well for those who have +investments to take time to extricate their capital +from his grasp,” said Mrs. Sneyd; “but as for +the builders and gardeners he employs, I think +they would be wiser if they carried their labour +where they might depend on a more lasting demand +for it. Anybody may see that if he spends +more every year in undoing what he did the year +before, his substance must soon come to an end, +and his labourers become his creditors. If I +were they, I would rather go and build barns that +are paid for by the preservation of the corn that +is in them, and till fields that will maintain the +labour of tillage, and set more to work next year, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.111'>111</span>than turn round a fine house from south to west, +and from west to south, and change shrubberies +into lawns, and lawns into flower-gardens, knowing +that such waste must come to an end.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“But some do not believe that it is waste, mother. +They see the money that pays them still in +existence, still going the round of the market; +and they talk (as some people in England do +about royal palaces, and spendthrift noblemen’s +establishments) of the blessing of a liberal expenditure, +and the patriotism of employing so +much labour.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Which would be all very well if the labourers +lived upon the sight of the money they are paid +with. But, as long as that money is changed +many times over for bread and clothing, which +all disappears in the process, it is difficult to make +out that anything is gained but the pleasure,—which +may be justifiable or not, according to the +circumstances of the employers. In the end, the +money remains as it was before, and instead of so +much food and clothing, there is a royal palace. +If you do not like your palace, and pull it down +and rebuild it, the money exists as before, and for +a double quantity of food and clothing, you still +have a palace."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The wrong notion you speak of arises partly,” +said Dr. Sneyd, “from a confusion between one +sort of unproductive expenditure and another. +People hear of its being a fine thing to employ a +crowd of labourers in making a new line of road, +or building a bridge, and they immediately suppose +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.112'>112</span>it must be a patriotic thing to employ a +crowd of labourers in building any thing.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I think they might perceive that, though +corn does not grow on a high road, nor bridges +yield manufactures, the value of corn lands may +be doubled by opening a way to a new market, +and that an unused water power may begin to +yield wealth from the moment that there is a +bridge over which buyers may come for it. It is +a misfortune to Briery Creek that Temple is +more of a selfish palace-fancier than a patriotic +bridge and road maker.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The first Sunday of the opening of the chapel, +Temple appeared in a character which he had +only once before attempted to support. On the +occasion of using the market-house for service, +he had approached the door, cast a glance within +upon the company of soldiers, and the village +population at their worship, while their aged +friend was leading their devotions, and hastily +departed, thankful that he was too pious to join +in such a service as this. He took the part of a +religious man that day, and now was the time for +him to resume the character. Under the idea +that the market-house might be opened as usual +for Dr. Sneyd, making his own appear like an +opposition place of worship, he spared no pains +to secure a majority in point of audience. He +had managed to ride past the military post, and +be gracious with the soldiers. His domestics +puffed the chapel and chaplain at market, the day +before, and the leading villagers received intimations +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.113'>113</span>of good sittings being appropriated to +them. These pains might have been spared. +All who desired might know that Dr. Sneyd, his +wife, son, and servants intended to be present, as +a matter of course.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When they entered, Temple looked nearly as +much surprised as if they had at the moment +arrived from England. He made a prodigious +bustle about having them accommodated in a +seat next his own, and condescendingly sent +them books, and inquired into the sufficiency of +hassocks. During the greater part of the service +he stood up, as if he could not listen with sufficient +attention while sitting, like other people. +Yet he cleared his throat if any body moved, +and sent his pert glance into every corner to +command a reverential demeanour, while his +chaplain was enforcing, as the prime glory and +charm of a place of worship, that there, and there +alone, all are equal and all are free. Little Ephraim +cowered behind the coachman while the preacher +insisted that here the humblest slave might stand +erect on the ground of his humanity; and the +butler stepped on tiptoe half way down the aisle +to huff Jenkins the ditcher for coming so high +up, at the very moment that something was +quoted about a gold ring and purple raiment in +the synagogue.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was true the preacher and his message had +not so good a chance of being attended to as they +might have on future Sundays. The bustle produced +by the anticipation of the occasion did not +subside on the arrival of the occasion. The fine +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.114'>114</span>large chip bonnets had been procured, and the +trimming and sending them home had been +achieved by the Saturday night. But it remained +to wear them for the first time: not only to support +the consciousness of a new piece of finery, +but to compare the fine bonnets with the shabby +head-gear of other people, with each other, and, +finally, with Mrs. Hesselden’s. Then, while Mrs. +Dods was thus contemplating the effect of her +own peculiar species of architecture, her husband +could not but look round him, and remember that +every individual brick of this pile had been fashioned +by himself and his lads. The builder +scanned the measurements of the windows and +the ceiling. Two or three boys and girls shuffled +their feet on the matting which their mother had +woven. A trader from the north gradually made +up his mind to approach the ladies after service, +for the purpose of recommending fur pouches +for the feet during the severe season that was +approaching. The Brawnees, unincumbered by +any thing beyond their working-day apparel, were +among the best listeners. Temmy was so alarmed +at the prospect of having to give his father, for +the first time, an account of the sermon, that +he could not have taken in a word of it, even if +he had not been miserable at seeing the tears +coursing one another down his mother’s cheeks +during the whole time of the service. Her left +hand hung by her side, but he did not dare to +touch it. He looked at Mrs. Hesselden to try +to find out whether she thought his mother was +ill; or whether the sermon was affecting; or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.115'>115</span>whether this was the consequence of something +that had been said at breakfast against grandpapa. +Grandpapa seemed to be listening very +serenely to the sermon, and that was a better +comfort than Mrs. Hesselden’s countenance,—so +grave, that Temmy feared to provoke a cross +word if he looked at her again.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was not known, till the ladies of the village +ranged themselves round the work-table in the +school-house, one chilly evening, soon afterwards, +how great had been the bustle of preparation +before the fine chip bonnets made their appearance +in the chapel. All hearts, even those of +rival milliners, were laid open by the sight of the +roaring wood fire, the superior candles, the +hearty welcome, and the smiling company that +awaited them as they dropped in at the place of +entertainment,—the women with their sewing +apparatus, and their husbands and brothers ready +for whatever occupation might have been devised +for their leisure evening hours. While these +latter crowded round the little library, to see of +what it consisted, the sewers placed their benches +round the deal table, snuffed their candles, and +opened their bundles of work. Mrs. Dods made +no mystery of her task. She was cutting up a +large chip bonnet to make two small hats for +her youngest boy and girl, owning that, not having +calculated on any one else attempting to +gratify the rage for imitating Mrs. Hesselden, +she had injured her speculation by overstocking +the market. The lawyer’s lady had been reckoned +upon as a certain customer; but it turned out,—however +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.116'>116</span>true that the lawyer’s lady must have a +chip bonnet,—that the builder’s wife had just +then entered upon a rivalship with the brickmaker’s +wife, and had stuck up at her window bonnets a +trifle cheaper than those of Mrs. Dods. It only +remained for Mrs. Dods to show how pretty her +little folks looked in hats of the fashionable material, +in hopes that the demand might spread to +children.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If it does, Mrs. Dods, Martha Jenkins will +have the same reason to complain of you that +you have to complain of being interfered with. +It is unknown the trouble that Jenkins has had, +following the river till he came to the beavers, +and then hunting them, and preparing their skins +at home, and all that, while Martha spared no +pains to make beaver hats for all the boys and +girls in the place. It will be rather hard if you +cut her out.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And you can do it only by lowering your +price ruinously,” observed Mrs. Sneyd. “I +should think any mother in Briery Creek would +rather keep her child’s ears from freezing by putting +on her a warm beaver, than dress her out +prettily in a light chip, at this season. Nothing +but a great difference in price can give yours the +preference, I should think, Mrs. Dods.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Then such a difference there must be,” Mrs. +Dods replied. “I had rather sell my article +cheap than not sell it at all. Another time I +shall take care how I run myself out at elbows +in providing for a new fashion among the ladies.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd thought that those were engaged +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.117'>117</span>in the safest traffic who dealt in articles in the +commonest use,—who looked for custom chiefly +from the lower, i.e. the larger classes of the people. +From their numbers, those classes are always the +greatest consumers; and, from the regularity of +their productive industry, they are also the most +regular consumers. It seemed probable that the +demand for Martha Jenkins’s beavers would prove +superior in the long run to that for Mrs. Dods’s +varied supply, though poor Martha might suffer +for a while from the glut of chips which occasioned +loss to all sellers of bonnets, at present, +and gain to all sellers of whatever was given in exchange +for bonnets. Fat for candles was scarcely +to be had since Temple had discouraged the sale +of fresh meat. Mrs. Dods was deplorably in +want of candles. She made a bargain with a +neighbour for some in return for the hat now +under her hands. How few she was to receive, +it vexed her to think; but there was no help for +it till somebody should supply the deficiency of +candles, or till new heads should crave covering.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It now appeared that the ladies were not the +only persons who had brought their work. When +it came to be decided who should be the reader, +it was unanimously agreed that some one who had +no employment for his hands should undertake +the office. Dods had leathern mittens to make +for the less hardy of the woodsmen. Others occupied +themselves in platting straw, making mops, +cutting pegs to be employed in roofing, and cobbling +shoes. Arthur drew sketches for Temmy +to copy. Such was always the pretence for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.118'>118</span>Arthur’s drawings; but a neighbour who cast a +peep over his shoulder, from time to time, could +not help thinking that the sketch was of the present +party, with Dr. Sneyd in the seat of honour +by the fire-side, Mrs. Sneyd knitting in the +shadow, that the full benefit of the candles might +be yielded to those whose occupation required it; +Isaac, who had received the honour of the first +appointment as reader, holding his book rather +primly, and pitching his voice in a key which +seemed to cause a tendency to giggle among +some of the least wise of his auditors; and, lastly, +the employed listeners, as they sat in various +postures, and in many lights, as the blaze from +the logs now flickered low, and now leaped up +to lighten all the room. Each of these was suspected +to be destined to find a place in Arthur’s +sketch.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was a pity Temmy was not here to take a +drawing lesson, his uncle thought. These evening +meetings afforded just the opportunity that +was wanted; for Arthur could seldom find time to +sit down and make his little nephew as good an +artist as he believed he might become. It was +not till quite late, when the party would have +begun dancing if some one had not given a +broad hint about the doctor’s telescope, that +Temmy appeared. Nobody heard his steed approach +the door, and every body wondered to see +him. It was thought that Mr. Temple would +have allowed no one belonging to him to mix +with those whom he was pleased to call the common +people of the place. Unguarded, the boy +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.119'>119</span>would indeed have been exposed to no such risk +of contamination; but Mr. Hesselden had promised +to be there, and it was believed that, under +his wing, the boy would take no harm, while Mr. +Temple’s object, of preserving a connexion with +whatever passed in his neighbourhood, might be +fulfilled.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Hesselden was not there; and if it was +desirable that Temple’s representative should +make a dignified appearance on this new occasion, +never was a representative more unfortunately +chosen. The little fellow crept to his +grandmamma’s side, shivering and half crying. +The good lady observed that it was indeed very +cold, chafed his hands, requested Rundell to throw +another log or two on the fire, and comforted the +boy with assurances that he was come in time to +dance with her. Every body was ready with +protestations that it was indeed remarkably cold. +It was thought the beauty of the woods was nearly +over for this season. In a few days more it was +probable that the myriads of stems in the forest +would be wholly bare, and little green but the +mosses left for the eye to rest upon under the +woven canopy of boughs. Few evergreens grew +near, so that the forest was as remarkably gloomy +in winter as it was bright in the season of leaves.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When the window was opened, that the star-gazers +might reconnoitre the heavens, it was +found that the air was thick with snow;—snow +was falling in a cloud.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do but see!” cried Arthur. “No star-gazing +to-night, nor dancing either, I fancy, if +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.120'>120</span>we mean to get home before it is knee-deep. +Temmy, did it snow when you came?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, yes,” answered the boy, his teeth chattering +at the recollection.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Why did not you tell us, my dear?” asked +Mrs. Sneyd.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The doctor was inwardly glad that there was so +good a reason for Mr. Hesselden’s absence.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No wonder we did not hear the horse trot +up to the door,” observed some one. “Come, +ladies, put up your work, unless you mean to +stay here till the next thaw.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>A child or two was present who was delighted +to think of the way to the school-house being +impassable till the next thaw.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Stay a bit,” cried Rundell, coming in from +the door, and pulling it after him. "I am not +going without my brand, and a fine blazing one +too,—with such noises abroad."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What noises?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Wolves. A strong pack of them, to judge +by the cry.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>All who possessed sheep were now troubled +with dire apprehensions: and their fears were not +allayed when Temmy let fall that wolves were +howling, as the groom thought, on every side, +during his ride from the Lodge. The boy had +never been so alarmed in his life; and he laid a +firm grasp on uncle Arthur’s coat-collar when +there was talk of going home again.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You must let me go, Temmy. I must look +after my lambs without more loss of time. If +you had not been the strangest boy in the world, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.121'>121</span>you would have given us notice to do so, long +ago. I cannot conceive what makes you so +silent about little things that happen.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd could very well account for that +which puzzled Arthur. She understood little +minds, and had watched, only too anxiously, the +process by which continual checking had rendered +her grand-child afraid to tell that there was snow, +or that wolves were abroad.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Come, lads,” cried Arthur. “Who cares +for his sheep? Fetch your arms, and meet me +at the poplar by the Kiln, and we will sally out +to the pens, and have a wolf-hunt.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>There was much glee at the prospect of this +frolic; the more that such an one had not been +expected to occur yet awhile. So early a commencement +of winter had not happened within +the experience of any inhabitant of Briery Creek. +The swine in the woods had not yet exhausted +their feast of autumn berries; and fallen apples +and peaches enough remained to feed them for a +month. The usual signal of the advance of the +season,—these animals digging for hickory nuts +among the rotting leaves,—had not been observed. +In short, the snow had taken every body by +surprise, unless it was the wolves.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd lighted and guided home his wife +and Temmy, in almost as high spirits as the +youngest of the wolf-hunters. The season of +sleighing was come, and his precious package of +glass might soon be attainable. Dire as were +the disasters which befel the party on their way,—the +wetting, the loss of the track, the stumbles, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.122'>122</span>the dread of wild beasts, and Temmy’s disappearance +for ten seconds in a treacherous hollow,—the +doctor did not find himself able to regret the +state of the weather. He fixed his thoughts on +the interests of science, and was consoled for +every mischance.</p> + +<p class='c001'>If he had foreseen all that would result from +this night’s adventure, he would not have +watched with so much pleasure for the lights +along the verge of the forest, when the snow had +ceased; nor have been amused at the tribute of +wolves’ heads which he found the next morning +deposited in his porch.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.6' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter VI.</span> <br> <br> A FATHER’S HOPE.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>For several days an unwonted stillness reigned +in Dr. Sneyd’s abode;—from the day that the +fever under which Arthur was labouring had +appeared of a serious character. While it was +supposed to be merely a severe cold, caught on +the night of the wolf-hunt, all had gone on as +much in the common way as could be expected +under the novelty of a sick person being in the +house; but from the moment that there was a +hint of danger, all was studious quiet. The +surgeon stepped stealthily up stairs, and the +heavy-footed maids did their best not to shake +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.123'>123</span>the floors they trod. Mrs. Temple conducted +her consultations with her father in a whisper, +though the study door was shut; and there was +thus only too much opportunity for the patient’s +voice to be heard all over the house, when his +fever ran high.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy did not like to stay away, though he +was very unhappy while on the spot. When he +could not slip in behind the surgeon, he avoided +the hall by entering the study through the +garden-window. Then he could sit unobserved +in the low chair; and, what was better, unemployed. +He had an earnest desire to be of +use, but so deep a conviction that he never could +be useful, that it was a misery to him to be asked +to do any thing. If requested merely to go an +errand, or to watch for a messenger, he felt as if +his uncle’s life depended on what he might see +and say and do, within a few minutes; and he +was therefore apt to see wrong, and speak amiss, +and do the very reverse of what he ought to do. +All this was only more tolerable than being at +home;—either alone, in momentary terror of his +father coming in; or with his father, listening to +complaints of Mrs. Temple’s absence, or invited +to an ill-timed facetiousness which he dared not +decline, however sick at heart he might be.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He had just crouched down in the great chair +one morning, (supposing that Dr. Sneyd, who was +bending over a letter at the table, had not seen +him enter,) when Mrs. Temple appeared from the +sick chamber. As she found time, in the first +place, to kiss the forehead of her boy, whom she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.124'>124</span>had not seen since the preceding afternoon, he +took courage to ask,</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Is uncle Arthur better?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple could not reply otherwise than +by a melancholy shake of the head. Dr. Sneyd +turned round.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“No, my dear,” he said. “Your uncle is not +better. Louisa,” he continued, observing his +daughter’s haggard and agitated countenance, +“you must rest. This last night has been too +much for you.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur had dropped asleep at last, Mrs. Temple +said; a troubled sleep, which she feared would +soon be at an end; but she saw the surgeon +coming up, and wished to receive him below, +and ask him——A sudden thought seemed to +strike her.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"My dear, go up to your uncle’s room——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy drew back, and very nearly said “No.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You can leave your shoes at the bottom of +the stairs. Ask your grandmamma to come down +to us; and do you sit at the bottom of the bed, +and watch your uncle’s sleep. If he seems +likely to wake, call me. If not, sit quiet till I +come.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy moved slowly away. He had not once +been in the room since the illness began, and +nothing could exceed the awe he felt of what he +might behold. He dared not linger, and therefore +stole in, and delivered his message in so low +a whisper that his grandmamma could not hear it +till she had beckoned him out to the landing. +She then went down, making a sign to him to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.125'>125</span>take her place. It was now necessary to look +into the bed; and Temmy sat with his eyes fixed, +till his head shook involuntarily with his efforts +to keep a steady gaze on his uncle’s face. That +face seemed to change its form, hue and motion +every instant, and sometimes Temmy fancied that +the patient was suffocating, and then that he had +ceased to breathe, according to the state that his +own senses were in. Sometimes the relaxed and +shrunken hand seemed to make an effort to grasp +the bed clothes, and then Temmy’s was instantly +outstretched, with a start, to the hand-bell with +which he was to summon help. How altered +was the face before him! So hollow, and wearing +such an expression of misery! There was just +sufficient likeness to uncle Arthur to enable +Temmy to believe that it was he; and quite +enough difference to suggest his being possessed; +or, in some sort, not quite uncle Arthur. He +wished somebody would come. How was he to +know how soon he should ring the bell?</p> + +<p class='c001'>This was soon decided. Without a moment’s +warning, Arthur opened his eyes wide, and sat +up in the bed, looking at Temmy, till the boy +nearly screamed, and never thought of ringing +the bell. When he saw, however, that Arthur +was attempting to get out of bed, he rang hastily, +and then ran to him, saying,</p> + +<p class='c001'>"O, uncle, do lie down again, that I may tell +you about the lamb that got so torn, you know. +I have a great deal to tell you about that lamb, +and the old ewe too. And Isaac says——"</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.126'>126</span>“Ay, the lamb, the lamb,” feebly said Arthur, +sinking back upon his pillow.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When Dr. Sneyd presently appeared, he found +Arthur listening dully, painfully, with his glazed +eyes fixed on the boy, who was telling, in a hurried +manner of forced cheerfulness, a long story +about the lamb that was getting well. He broke +off when help appeared.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O grandpapa, he woke in such a hurry! He +tried to get out of bed, grandpapa.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes, my dear, I understand. You did just +the right thing, Temmy; and now you may go +down. None of us could have done better, my +dear boy.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Any one who had met Temmy crying on the +stairs would have rather supposed that he had +done just the wrong thing. Yet Temmy was a +different boy from that hour. He even thought +that he should not much mind being in uncle +Arthur’s room again, if any body should wish to +send him there. It was yet some time before the +event of this illness was considered as decided, +and as the days passed on, there became less and +less occasion for inquiry in words, each morning. +Whenever Dr. Sneyd’s countenance was +remarkably placid, and his manner particularly +quiet, Temmy knew that his uncle was worse. It +was rarely, and during very brief intervals, that +he was considered better. Strange things happened +now and then which made the boy question +whether the world was just now going on in its +usual course. It was not very strange to hear +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.127'>127</span>his papa question Mrs. Temple, during the short +periods of her being at home, about Arthur’s +will; whether he had one; how it was supposed +his property would be left; and whether he was +ever sensible enough to make any alterations that +might be desirable under the late growth of his +little property. It was not strange that Mr. +Temple should ask these questions, nor that they +should be answered briefly and with tears: but it +was strange that papa went one day himself into +the grapery, and cut with his own hands the very +finest grapes for Arthur, and permitted Temmy +to carry them, though they filled a rather large +basket. It seemed strange that Mr. Kendall, +apt as he was, when every body was well, to joke +in season and out of season with guests and +neighbours, should now be grave from morning +till night, and often through the night, watching, +considering, inventing, assisting, till Mrs. Sneyd +said that, if Arthur recovered, he would owe his +life, under God, to the care of his medical friend. +It was strange to see a physician arrive from a +great distance, twice in one week, and go away +again as soon as his horse was refreshed: though +nothing could be more natural than the anxiety +of the villagers who stood at their doors, ready to +accost the physician as he went away, and to try +to learn how much hope he really thought there +was of Arthur’s recovery. It was very strange +to meet Dr. Sneyd, one morning, with Arthur’s +axe on his shoulder, going out to do some work +in the woods that Arthur had been talking about +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.128'>128</span>all night, and wanted grievously to be doing himself, +till Dr. Sneyd had promised that he, and +nobody else, should accomplish it for him. It was +strange that Mr. Hesselden should choose that +time, of all others, to turn back with Dr. Sneyd, +and ask why he had not been sent for to the +patient’s bed-side, urging that it was dreadful to +think what might become of him hereafter, if it +should please God to remove him in his present +feeble condition of mind. Of all strange things +it seemed the strangest that any one should dare +to add to such trouble as the greyhaired father +must be suffering, and that Mr. Hesselden should +fancy himself better qualified than Dr. Sneyd to +watch over the religious state of this virtuous +son of a pious parent. Even Temmy could understand +enough to be disgusted, and to venerate +the humble dignity with which Mr. Hesselden’s +officiousness was checked, and the calmness with +which it was at once admitted that Arthur’s period +of probation seemed to be fast drawing to a +close. But nothing astonished the boy so much +as some circumstances relating to his mother. +Temmy never knew before that she was fond of +uncle Arthur,—or of any one, unless it was himself. +When his papa was not by, her manner +was usually high and cold to every body; and it +had become more strikingly so since he had +observed her dress to be shabby. He was now +awe-struck when he saw her sit sobbing behind +the curtain, with both hands covering her face. +But it was much worse to see her one day, after +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.129'>129</span>standing for a long while gazing on the sunken +countenance before her, cast herself down by the +bedside and cry,</p> + +<p class='c001'>"O, Arthur—Arthur—you will not look at +me!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy could not stay to see what happened. +He took refuge with his grandpapa, who, on +hearing what had overpowered him, led him up +again to the chamber, where Louisa was on her +knees, weeping quietly with her face hid in the +bed clothes. She was not now in so much need +of comfort. Arthur had turned his eyes upon +her, and, she thought, attempted to speak. She +believed she could now watch by him till the last +without repining; but it had been dreary,—most +dreary, to see him wasting without one sign of +love or consciousness.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What must it be then, my dear daughter, to +watch for months and years in vain for such a +sign?” The doctor held in his hand a letter +which Temmy had for some days observed that +his grandfather seemed unable to part with. It +told that the most beloved of his old friends had +had an attack of paralysis. It was little probable +that he would write or send message more.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That it should happen just at this time!” +murmured Louisa.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I grieve for you, my dear. You have many +years before you, and the loss of this brother——But +for your mother and me it is not altogether +so trying. We cannot have very long to remain; +and the more it pleases God to wean us from this +world, the less anxiety there will be in leaving it. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.130'>130</span>If the old friends we loved, and the young we +depended on, go first, the next world is made all +the brighter; and it is with that world that we +have now most to do."</p> + +<p class='c001'>"But of all losses—that Arthur must be the +one——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"This is the one we could be least prepared +for, and from this there is, perhaps, the strongest +recoil,—especially when we think of this boy,"—laying +his hand on Temmy’s head. “But it is +enough that it is the fittest for us. If we cannot +see this, we cannot but believe it; and let the +Lord do what seemeth to him good.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"But such a son! Such a man——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Ah! there is precious consolation! No father’s—no +mother’s heart—Hear me, Arthur"——and +he laid his hand on that of his son—“No +parent’s heart had ever more perfect repose +upon a child than we have had upon you, my +dear son!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“He hears you.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"If not now, I trust he shall know it hereafter. +His mother and I have never been thankless, I +believe, for what God has given us in our children; +but now is the time to feel truly what His +bounty has been. Some time hence, we may find +ourselves growing weary under our loss, however +we may acquiesce: but now there is the support +given through him who is the resurrection and +the life,—this support without drawback, without +fear. Thank God!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>After a pause, Mrs. Temple said, hesitatingly,</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You have seen Mr. Hesselden?”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.131'>131</span>"I have. He believes that there is presumption +in the strength of my hope. But it seems +to me that there would be great presumption in +doubt and dread. If my son were a man of a +worldly mind,—if his affections were given to +wealth and fame, or to lower objects still, it would +become us to kneel and cry, day and night, for +more time, before he must enter the state where, +with such a spirit, he must find himself poor and +miserable and blind and naked. But his Maker +has so guided him that his affections have been +fixed on objects which will not be left behind in +this world, or buried away with the body, leaving +him desolate in the presence of his God. He +loves knowledge, and for long past he has lived +on benevolence; and he will do the same henceforth +and for ever, if the gospel, in which he has +delighted from his youth up, say true. Far be it +from us to doubt his being happy in thus living +for the prime ends of his being!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Temple was still silent.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You are thinking of the other side of his +character,” observed Dr. Sneyd; “of that dark +side which every fallible creature has. Here +would be my fear, if I feared at all. But I do +not fear for Arthur that species of suffering which +he has ever courted here. I believe he was +always sooner or later thankful for the disappointment +of unreasonable desires, and the mortifications +of pride, and all retribution for sins and +follies. There is no reason to suppose that he +will shrink from the retribution which will in like +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.132'>132</span>manner follow such sins and follies as he may +carry with him into another state. All desires +whose gratification cannot enter there will be +starved out. The process will be painful; but +the subject of this pain will be the first to acquiesce +in it. We, therefore, will not murmur nor +fear.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If all this be true, if it be religious, how +many torment themselves and one another in +vain about the terrors of the gospel!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Very many. For my part, whatever terrors +I might feel without the gospel,—and I can imagine +that they might be many and great,—I +cannot conceive of any being left when the gospel +is taken home to the understanding and the heart. +It so strips away all the delusions, amidst which +alone terror can arise under the recognition of a +benignant Providence, as to leave a broad unincumbered +basis for faith to rest upon; a faith +which must pass from strength to strength, divesting +itself of one weakness and pain after +another, till the end comes when perfect love +casts out fear;—a consummation which can never +be reached by more than a few, while arbitrary +sufferings are connected with the word of God in +the unauthorized way which is too common at +present. No! if there be one characteristic of +the gospel rather than another, it is its repudiating +terrors—(and terrors belong only to ignorance)—by +casting a new and searching light +on the operations of Providence, and showing +how happiness is the issue of them all. Surely, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.133'>133</span>daughter, there is no presumption in saying this, +to the glory of Him who gave the gospel."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I trust not, father.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"My dear, with as much confidence as an +apostle, were he here, would desire your brother +to arise and walk before us all, do I say to him, +if he can yet hear me, ‘Fear not, for God is +with thee.’ I wish I feared as little for you, +Louisa; but indeed this heavy grief is bearing you +down. God comfort you, my child! for we perceive +that we cannot."</p> + +<p class='c001'>With a passion of grief, Louisa prayed that +she might not be left the only child of her parents. +She had never been, she never should be, to them +what she ought. Arthur must not go. Her +father led her away, soothing her self-reproaches, +and giving her hope, by showing how much of +his hope for this world depended on her. She +made a speedy effort to compose herself, as she +could not bear to be long absent from Arthur’s +bedside. Her mother was now there, acting +with all the silent self-possession which she had +preserved throughout.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The snow was all melted before the morning +when the funeral train set forth from Dr. Sneyd’s +door. On leaving the gate, the party turned,—not +in the direction of the chapel, but towards the +forest. As Mr. Hesselden could not in conscience +countenance such a departure as that of +Arthur,—lost in unbelief, and unrelieved of his +sins as he believed the sufferer to have been,—it +was thought better that the interment should take +place as if no Mr. Hesselden had been there. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.134'>134</span>and no chapel built; and the whole was conducted +as on one former occasion since the +establishment of the settlement. The plain +coffin was carried by four of the villagers, and +followed by all the rest, except a very few who +remained about the Lodge. Mrs. Sneyd would +not hear of her husband’s going through the +service unsupported by any of his family. Mrs. +Temple’s presence was out of the question. Mrs. +Sneyd and Temmy therefore walked with Dr. +Sneyd. When arrived at the open green space +appointed, the family sat down beside the coffin, +while the men who had brought spades dug a +grave, and those who had borne axes felled trees +with which to secure the body from the beasts of +the forest. There was something soothing rather +than the contrary in observing how all went on +as if the spectators had been gazing with their +usual ease upon the operations of nature. The +squirrels ran among the leaves which gaudily +carpeted the ground in the shade: the cattle +browzed carelessly, tinkling their bells among the +trees. A lark sprang up from the ground-nest +where she was sitting solitary when the grave-diggers +stirred the long grass in which she had +been hidden; and a deer, which had taken alarm +at the shock of the woodsmen’s axes, made a timid +survey of the party, and bounded away into the +dark parts of the wood. The children, who were +brought for the purpose of showing respect to the +departed, could scarcely be kept in order by their +anxious parents, during the time of preparation. +They would pick up glossy brown nuts that lay +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.135'>135</span>at their feet; and trudged rustling through all +the leaves they could manage to tread upon, in +hopes of dislodging mice or other small animals +to which they might give chase. One little girl, +with all a little girl’s love for bright colours, +secured a handful of the scarlet leaves of the +maple, the deep yellow of the walnut and hickory, +and the pink of the wild vine; and, using the +coffin for a table, began laying out her treasure +there in a circle. Dr. Sneyd was watching her +with a placid smile, when the mother, in an agony +of confusion, ran to put a stop to the amusement. +The doctor would not let the child be interfered +with. He seemed to have pleasure in entering +into the feelings of as many about him as could +not enter into his.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He was quite prepared for his office at the +moment when all was ready for him. None who +were present had ever beheld or listened to a +funeral service so impressive as this of the greyheaded +father over the grave of his son. The +few, the very few natural tears shed at the moment +of final surrender did not impair the dignity of +the service, nor, most assuredly, the acceptableness +of the devotion from which, as much as from +human grief, they sprang. The doctor would +himself see the grave filled up, and the felled +trees so arranged upon it as to render it perfectly +safe. Then he was ready to be the support of his +wife home; and at his own gate, he forgot none +who had paid this last mark of respect to his son. +He shook hands with them every one, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.136'>136</span>touched his hat to them when he withdrew +within the gate.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd wistfully followed him into his +study, instead of going to seek her daughter.—Was +he going to write?</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Yes, my dear. There is one in England to +whom these tidings are first due from ourselves. +I shall write but little; for hers will be an +affliction with which we must not intermeddle. +At least, it is natural for Arthur’s father to think +so. Will you stay beside me? Or are you going +to Louisa?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"I ought to write to Mrs. Rogers; and I +think I will do it now, beside you. And yet——Louisa——Tell +me, dear, which I shall do."</p> + +<p class='c001'>There was something in the listlessness and +indecision of tone with which this was said that +more nearly overset Dr. Sneyd’s fortitude than +any thing that had happened this day. Conquering +his emotion, he said,</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Let us both take a turn in the garden first, +and then——"—and he drew his wife’s arm +within his own, and led her out. Temmy was +there,—lingering, solitary and disconsolate in +one of the walks. The servants had told him +that he must not go up to his mamma; they +believed she was asleep; and then Temmy did +not know where to go, and was not at all sure +how much he might do on the day of a funeral. +In exerting themselves to cheer him, the doctor +and Mrs. Sneyd revived each other; and when Mrs. +Temple arose, head-achy and feverish, and went +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.137'>137</span>to the window for air, she was surprised to see +her father with his spade in his hand, looking on +while Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy sought out the +last remains of the autumn fruit in the orchard.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When the long evening had set in, and the +most necessary of the letters were written, little +seemed left to be done but to take care of Mrs. +Temple, whose grief had, for the present, much +impaired her health. She lay shivering on a +couch drawn very near the fire; and her mother +began to feel so uneasy at the continuance of her +head-ache that she was really glad when Mr. +Kendall came up from the village to enquire after +the family. It was like his usual kind attention; +and perhaps he said no more than the occasion +might justify of distress of mind being the cause +of indisposition. Yet his manner struck Mrs. +Sneyd as being peculiarly solemn,—somewhat +inquisitive, and, on the whole, unsatisfactory. +Mrs. Temple also asked herself for a moment +whether Kendall could possibly know that she +was not a happy wife, and would dare to exhibit +his knowledge to her. But she was not strong +enough to support the dignified manner necessary +on such a supposition; and she preferred dismissing +the thought. She was recommended to rest +as much as possible; to turn her mind from +painful subjects; and, above all, to remain where +she was. She must not think of going home at +present;—a declaration for which every body +present was heartily thankful.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When Temmy had attended the surgeon to +the door, he returned; and instead of seating +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.138'>138</span>himself at his drawing, as before, wandered from +window to window, listening, and seeming very +uncomfortable. Dr. Sneyd invited him to the +fire-side, and made room for him between his +knees; but Temmy could not be happy even +there,—the night was so stormy, and it was +raining so very heavily!</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Well, my dear?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And uncle Arthur is out in the wood, all +alone, and every body else so comfortable at +home!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My boy, your uncle can never more be hurt +by storm or heat, by night dew or rain. We +will not forget him while we are comfortable, as +you say, by our fire-side: but it is we ourselves, +the living, who have to be sheltered and tended +with care and pains, like so many infants, while +perhaps the departed make sport of these things, +and look back upon the needful care of the body +as grown men look down upon the cradles they +were rocked in, and the cushions spread for them +to fall upon when they learned to walk. Uncle +Arthur may know more about storms than we; +but we know that they will never more beat upon +his head.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temmy believed this; yet he could not help +thinking of the soaked grass, and the dripping +boughs, and the groaning of the forest in the +wind,—and even of the panther and the wild cat +snuffing round the grave they could not reach. +He could not help feeling as if his uncle was +deserted; and he had moreover the fear that, +though he could never, never think less of him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.139'>139</span>than now, others would fall more and more into +their old way of talking and laughing in the light +of the fire, without casting a thought towards the +forest or any thing that it contained. He felt +as if he was, in such a case, called upon to +vindicate uncle Arthur’s claims to solemn remembrance, +and pondered the feasibility of +staying at home alone to think about uncle +Arthur when the time should be again come for +every body else to be reading and working, or +dancing, during the evenings at the schoolhouse.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Sneyd believed all that her husband had +just said to Temmy; and the scripture which he +read this evening to his family, about the heavenly +transcending the earthly, did not pass idly over +her ear; yet she so far felt with Temmy that she +looked out, forest-wards, for long before she +tried to rest; and, with the first grey of the +morning, was again at the same station. On the +first occasion, she was somewhat surprised by +two things that she saw;—many lights flitting +about the village, and on the road to the Lodge,—and +a faint glimmer, like the spark of a glow-worm, +in the opposite direction, as if precisely +on the solitary spot where Arthur lay. Dr. +Sneyd could not distinguish it through the storm; +but on being assured that there was certainly +some light, supposed that it might be one of the +meteoric fires which were wont to dart out of the +damp brakes, and run along the close alleys of +the forest, like swift torch-bearers of the night. +For the restlessness in the village he could not +so easily account; nor did he take much pains to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.140'>140</span>do so; for he was wearied out,—and the sleep +of the innocent, the repose of the pious, awaited +him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"From this he was unwillingly awakened, at +peep of dawn, by Mrs. Sneyd, who was certain +that she had distinguished the figure of a man, +closely muffled, pacing the garden. She had +previously fancied she heard a horse-tread in the +turf road.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My dear,” said the doctor, “who should it +be? We have no thieves here, you know; and +what should anybody else want in our garden at +this hour?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Why—you will not believe me, I dare say,—but +I have a strong impression,—I cannot help +thinking it is Temple."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Sneyd was at the window without another +word. It was still so dark that he could not distinguish +the intruder till he passed directly before +the window. At that moment the doctor threw +up the sash. The wind blew in chilly, bringing +the autumnal scent of decaying vegetation from +the woods; but the rain was over. The driving +clouds let out a faint glimmer from the east; but +all besides was darkness, except a little yellow +light which was still wandering on the prairie, +and which now appeared not far distant from the +paling of the orchard.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Mr. Temple, is it you?” asked Dr. Sneyd. +“What brings you here?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The gentleman appeared excessively nervous. +He could only relate that he wanted to see his +wife,—that he must see Mrs. Temple instantly. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.141'>141</span>She must come down to him,—down to the window, +at least. He positively could not enter the +house. He had not a moment to spare. He was +on business of life and death. He must insist on +Mrs. Temple being called.</p> + +<p class='c001'>She was so, as the intelligence of her being ill +seemed to effect no change in the gentleman’s determination. +He appeared to think that she would +have ample time to get well afterwards. When +her mother had seen that she was duly wrapped +up, and her father had himself opened the shutter +of the study window, to avoid awakening the +servants’ curiosity, both withdrew to their own +apartment, without asking further questions of +Temple.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Did you see anybody else, my dear?” the +doctor inquired. Mrs. Sneyd was surprised at +the question.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Because—I did. Did you see no torch or +lantern behind the palings? I am sure there was +a dark face peeping through to see what we were +doing."</p> + +<p class='c001'>A pang of horror shot through Mrs. Sneyd +when she asked her husband whether he supposed +it was an Indian. O, no; only a half-savage. +He believed it to be one of the Brawnees. If +so, Mrs. Sneyd could account for the light in the +forest, as well as for the maiden being so far from +home at this hour. She had marked her extreme +grief at the interment the day before, and other +things previously, which gave her the idea that +Arthur’s grave had been lighted and guarded by +one who would have been only too happy to have +watched over him while he lived.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.142'>142</span>It was even so, as Mrs. Sneyd afterwards ascertained. +The maiden hung lanterns round the +space occupied by the grave, every night, till all +danger was over of Arthur’s remains being interfered +with. The family could not refuse to be +gratified with this mark of devotion;—except +Temple, who would have been glad if the shadows +of the night had availed to shroud his proceedings +from curious eyes.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When the gate was heard to swing on its +hinges, and the tread of a horse was again distinguishable +on the soaked ground, Mrs. Sneyd +thought she might look out upon the stairs, and +watch her daughter to her chamber. But Mrs. +Temple was already there. Not wishing to be +asked any questions, she had gone up softly, and +as softly closed her door; so that her parents, +not choosing to disturb her, must wait till the +morning for the satisfaction of their uneasy curiosity.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> +<h3 id='ch1.7' class='c012'><span class='sc'>Chapter VII.</span><br> <br> THE END OF THE MATTER.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>The truth was not long in becoming known when +the daylight called the villagers abroad. Temple +was gone. He had fled from his creditors, and +to escape the vengeance of the land-office for his +embezzlement of funds which had come into his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.143'>143</span>hands in the transaction of its business. His +creditors might make what they could of that which +he left behind; but his mansion, shrubberies, conservatories, +and ornamental furniture could by +no method be made to compensate for the property +which had flown to the moon, or somewhere +else where it was as little accessible. The estate, +disposed of to the greatest possible advantage, +could not be made worth more than what was +spent upon it in its present form; and the enormous +waste which had been perpetrated in wanton +caprices could never be repaired.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Temple had spent more than his income, from +the time he set foot in America, if not before. +He was only careless at first, forgetting to provide +for contingencies, and being regularly astonished, +as often as he looked into his affairs, at +discovering how much his expenses had exceeded +his expectations. He next found it easier to +avoid looking too closely into his affairs than to +control his passion for ostentation: and from +that moment, he trod the downward path of the +spendthrift; raising money by any means that he +could devise, and trusting that fate or something +would help him before all was spent. Fate did +not come in as a helper till he could turn nothing +more of his own into dollars without the humiliation +of appearing to retrench; and to submit to +this was quite out of the question. So he compelled +his lady to darn and dye, and make her +old wardrobe serve; restricted her allowance for +housekeeping in all the departments that he had +nothing to do with; and betook himself to embezzlement. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.144'>144</span>This served his purpose for a short +time; but, on the day of Arthur’s funeral, a +stranger was observed to have arrived in the +place, without an introduction to Mr. Temple. +Temple’s unpaid labourers had lately taken the +liberty of asking for their money, and, actuated +by some unknown impulse, had this evening +come up with torches through the rain, to call the +gentleman to account, and show him that they +would not be trifled with any longer. It was +time to be off; and Temple waited only till the +village was quiet, before he stole to the stables, +saddled his horse with his own hands, just called +to tell his wife that he could not at present say +whether he should send for her, or whether she +might never see or hear from him more, and +turned his back on Briery Creek for ever. +Whether his wife would choose to go to him was +a question which did not seem to occur to his +mind.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A passing traveller, looking down upon Briery +Creek from the neighbouring ridge, might perhaps +ask the name of the social benefactor who +had ornamented the district with yon splendid +mansion, presented the village with a place of +worship, and the shell, at least, of a parsonage; +had reclaimed those green lawns from the wild +prairie, and cleared the woodland in the rear so +as to leave, conspicuous in beauty, clumps of the +noblest forest trees. Such a stranger ought not +to use the term “benefactor” till he knew whence +came the means by which all this work was +wrought. If from a revenue which could supply +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.145'>145</span>these graces after all needful purposes had been +fulfilled, well and good. Such an expenditure +would then have been truly beneficent. It is a +benignant act to embellish God’s earth for the +use and delight of man. But if there is not revenue +enough for such objects,—if they are attained +by the sacrifice of those funds on whose +reproduction society depends for subsistence, the +act, from being beneficent, becomes criminal. +The mansion is built out of the maintenance of +the labourer; and that which should have been +bread to the next generation is turned into barren +stone. Temple was a criminal before he committed +fraud. He injured society by exhausting +its material resources, and leaving no adequate +substitute for them. If he had lavished his capital, +as Dr. Sneyd laid out his revenue, in the pursuit +of science, it is very possible that, though +such an expenditure might require justification in +comparison with Dr. Sneyd’s, the good he would +effect might have so superabounded above the +harm as to have made society his debtor,—(as in +many a case where philosophers have expended +all their substance in perfecting a discovery or +invention,)—but Temple had done nothing like +this. The beauty of his estate, however desirable +in itself, was no equivalent for the cost of happiness +through which it was produced. He had +no claim to a share of the almost unlimited credit +allowed, by the common consent of society, to +its highest class of benefactors,—the explorers +of Providence.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Arthur had done little less than Temple in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.146'>146</span>way of adorning Briery Creek; and how differently! +His smiling fields, his flocks spreading +over the prairie, his own house, and the dwellings +of his labourers, increasing in number and improving +in comfort every year, were as beautiful +in the eye of a right-minded observer as the +grander abode of his brother-in-law. There were +indications also of new graces which were to arise +in their proper time. The clearings were made +with a view to the future beauty of the little estate; +creepers were already spreading over the white +front of the house, and no little pains had been +bestowed upon the garden. Yet, so far from any +suffering by Arthur’s expenditure, every body +had been benefited. A larger fund had remained +at the close of each year for the employment of +labour during the next; and if new labourers +were induced to come from a distance and settle +here, it was not that they might be kept busy +and overpaid for a time, and afterwards be left +unemployed and defrauded of part of their dues, +but that they and their children after them might +prosper with the prosperity of their employer. +Temple had absconded, leaving a name which +would be mentioned with either contempt or abhorrence +as long as it would be mentioned at all. +Arthur had departed, surrounded with the blessings +of those who regarded him as a benefactor. +He had left a legacy of substantial wealth to the +society in which he had lived, and a name which +would be perpetuated with honour.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was hoped that the effects of Arthur’s good +deeds would long outlast those of Temple’s evil +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.147'>147</span>ones. In all communities that can boast of any +considerable degree of civilization, there are many +accumulators to one spendthrift. The principle +of accumulation is so strong, that it has been perpetually +found an overmatch for the extravagance +of ostentatious governments, and for the wholesale +waste of war. The capital of every tolerably +governed state has been found to be gradually +on the increase, however much misery might, +through mismanagement, be inflicted on certain +portions of the people. It was to be hoped that +such would be the process in Briery Creek; that +the little capitals which had been saved by the +humbler residents would be more freely employed +in putting labour into action, than while the great +man had been there to buy up all that was to be +had. It might be hoped that the losses of the +defrauded labourers might thus be in time repaired, +and new acquisitions made. Again:—there +was now no one to interfere with the exchanges +in the markets, and thus perplex the +calculations of producers, causing deficiencies of +some articles and gluts of others;—inequalities +which no foresight could guard against. Every +one might now have as much fresh meat, and as +little salt, as he chose; and the general taste +would regulate the supply in the market, to the +security of those who sold and the satisfaction of +those who bought. It would be well for certain +nations if those who attempt interference with +commerce on a larger scale could be as easily +scared away as Temple; their dictation (in the +form of bounties and prohibitions) expiring as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.148'>148</span>they withdrew. Greater, in proportion to their +greater influence in society, would be the rejoicing +at their departure, than that with which Temple’s +disappearance was hailed, when the first dismay +of his poorer creditors was overcome.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The ease which was thus occasioned was not +confined to those who had merely a business +connexion with him. No one liked to tell his +notions upon so delicate a matter; but a significant +smile went round, some months after, when +it was remarked how uncommonly well Mrs. +Temple was looking, and how gracious she had +become, and what a different kind of boy Temmy +now promised to be from any thing that was expected +of him formerly. The air of the farm was +pronounced to be a fine thing for them both.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Yes; the farm,—Arthur’s farm. The estate +was of course left to his family; and it was the +most obvious thing in the world that Mrs. Temple +should establish herself in it, and superintend its +management, with Isaac and his wife to assist +her, till Temmy should be old and wise enough +to take it into his own charge. The lady herself +proposed this plan; and it was a fortunate thing +that she had always been fond of a dairy and +poultry yard, and of a country life altogether. +The pride which had chilled all who came near +her during “the winter of her discontent,” gradually +thawed under the genial influence of freedom +and ease. Her parents once more recognized +in her the Louisa Sneyd who had been so +long lost to them, and every body but the Hesseldens +thought her so improved that she could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.149'>149</span>not have been known for the same person;—even +as to beauty,—so much brighter did she look +carrying up a present of eggs and cream-cheese +to her mother, in the early morning, than sauntering +through the heat from her carriage, entrenched +behind her parasol, with the liveried +servant at her heels, burdened with her pocket-handkerchief +and a pine-apple for the doctor’s +eating.</p> + +<p class='c001'>She was never afraid of being too early at her +father’s. Dr. Sneyd was as fond of country occupations +as she; and when he had not been in +his observatory for half the night, might be found +at sunrise digging or planting in his garden. +His grievous loss had not destroyed his energies; +it had rather stimulated them, by attaching him +for the short remainder of his days to the place +of his present abode. He had gradually relaxed +in his desire to see England again, and had now +relinquished the idea entirely,—not through indolence, +or because the circle of his old friends at +home was no longer complete, but because,—free +from superstition as he was,—his son being +buried there attached him to the place. Here he, +and his wife, and their daughter, and grandchild, +could speak of Arthur more frequently, more +easily, more happily, than they could ever learn +to do elsewhere. They could carry forward his +designs, work in his stead, and feel, act, and talk +as if he were still one of them. Not only did +they thus happily regard him in the broad sunshine, +when amidst the lively hum of voices from +the village they were apt to fancy that they could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.150'>150</span>distinguish his; but, in the dead of night, when +the doctor was alone in his observatory, or sometimes +assisted by Mrs. Sneyd, (who had taken +pains to qualify herself thus late to aid her +husband,) bright thoughts of the departed would +accompany the planets in their courses, and +hopes were in attendance which did not vanish +with the morning light, or grow dark in the evening +shade. The large telescope was not, for some +time, of the use that was expected, for want of +such an assistant as Arthur. A sigh would occasionally +escape from Dr. Sneyd when he felt how +Arthur would have enjoyed a newly-made discovery,—how +he might have suggested the +means of removing a difficulty. Then a smile +would succeed at the bare imagination of how +much greater things might be revealed in Arthur’s +new sphere of habitation; and at the conviction +that the progress of God’s truth can never be +hurtfully delayed, whether its individual agents +are left to work here, or removed to a different +destination elsewhere.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Hopes, different in kind, but precious in their +way, rested now on Temmy,—soon to be called +by the less undignified name of Temple. The +boy had brightened, in intellect and in spirits, +from the hour that he began to surmount his +agitation at the idea of being some day sole master +of the farm. There was something tangible +in farm-learning, which he felt he could master +when there was no one to rebuke and ridicule +almost every thing he attempted; and in this +department he had a model before him on which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.151'>151</span>his attention was for ever fixed. Uncle Arthur +was the plea for every new thing he proposed to +attempt; and, by dint of incessant recourse to it, +he attempted many things which he would not +otherwise have dreamed of. Among other visions +for the future, he saw himself holding the pen in +the observatory, <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He was some time in learning to attend to two +things at once; and all his merits and demerits +might safely be discussed within a yard of his ear, +while he was buried in mathematics or wielding +his pencil; which he always contrived to do at +odd moments.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What is he about now?” was the question +that passed between the trio who were observing +him, one evening, when he had been silent some +time, and appeared to be lightly sketching on a +scrap of paper which lay before him.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Ephraim’s cabin, I dare say,” observed his +mother. “We are to have a frolic in a few days, +to raise a cabin for Ephraim, who has worked +wonderfully hard in the prospect of having a +dwelling of his own. It is Temple’s affair altogether; +and I know his head has been full of it +for days past. He wishes that Ephraim’s cabin +should be second to none on the estate.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Let us see what he will make of it,” said the +doctor, putting on his spectacles, and stepping +softly behind Temple. He looked on, over the +youth’s shoulder, for a few minutes, with a quiet +smile, and then beckoned his wife.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This second movement Temple observed. He +looked up hastily.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.152'>152</span>“Very like my dear boy! It is very like. +It is something worth living for, Temple, to be +so <a id='corr152.3'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='remembered.'>remembered.”</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_152.3'><ins class='correction'>remembered.”</ins></a></span></p> + +<p class='c001'>"So remembered as this, Sir! It is so easy +to copy the face, the——”"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The outward man? It is a great pleasure +to us that you find it so; but it gives us infinitely +more to see that you can copy after a better +manner still. We can see a likeness there too, +Temple.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.153'>153</span>Having illustrated the leading principles which +regulate the <span class='sc'>Production</span>, <span class='sc'>Distribution</span>, and +<span class='sc'>Exchange</span> of Wealth, we proceed to consider the +laws of its <span class='sc'>Consumption</span>.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Of these four operations, the three first are +means to the attainment of the last as an end.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Consumption by individuals is the subject before +us. Government consumption will be treated +of hereafter.</p> + +<p class='c001'><i>Summary of Principles illustrated in +this volume.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>Consumption is of two kinds, productive and +unproductive.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The object of the one is the restoration, with +increase, in some new form, of that which is +consumed. The object of the other is the enjoyment +of some good through the sacrifice of that +which is consumed.</p> + +<p class='c001'>That which is consumed productively is capital, +reappearing for future use. That which is consumed +unproductively ceases to be capital, or any +thing else. It is wholly lost.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Such loss is desirable or the contrary in proportion +as the happiness resulting from the sacrifice +exceeds or falls short of the happiness belonging +to the continued possession of the consumable +commodity.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.154'>154</span>The total of what is produced is called the +gross produce.</p> + +<p class='c001'>That which remains, after replacing the capital +consumed, is called the net produce.</p> + +<p class='c001'>While a man produces only that which he +himself consumes, there is no demand and supply.</p> + +<p class='c001'>If a man produces more of one thing than he +consumes, it is for the sake of obtaining something +which another man produces, over and +above what he consumes.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Each brings the two requisites of a demand; +viz., the wish for a supply, and a commodity +wherewith to obtain it.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This commodity, which is the instrument of +demand, is, at the same time, the instrument of +supply.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Though the respective commodities of no two +producers may be exactly suitable to their respective +wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, as every +man’s instrument of demand and supply is identical, +the aggregate demand of society must be +precisely equal to its supply.</p> + +<p class='c001'>In other words, a general glut is impossible.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A partial glut is an evil which induces its own +remedy; and the more quickly, the greater the +evil; since, the aggregate demand and supply +being always equal, a superabundance of one +commodity testifies to the deficiency of another; +and, all exchangers being anxious to exchange +the deficient article for that which is superabundant, +the production of the former will be quickened, +and that of the latter slackened.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A new creation of capital, employed in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1.155'>155</span>production of the deficient commodity, may thus +remedy a glut.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A new creation of capital is always a benefit +to society, by constituting a new demand.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It follows that an unproductive consumption +of capital is an injury to society, by contracting +the demand. In other words, an expenditure +which avoidably exceeds the revenue is a social +crime.</p> + +<p class='c001'>All interference which perplexes the calculations +of producers, and thus causes the danger of +a glut, is also a social crime.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1.156'>156</span>LONDON:</div> + <div>PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES,</div> + <div>Stamford Street.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c000'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.01'>01</span> + <h2 id='v2' class='c005'>THE THREE AGES.</h2> +</div> + +<hr class='c014'> +<h3 id='ch2.1' class='c012'>FIRST AGE.</h3> + +<p class='c013'>One fine summer day, about three hundred and +ten years ago, all Whitehall was astir with the +throngs who were hastening to see my Lord +Cardinal set forth from the episcopal palace for +the Parliament House. The attendants of the +great man had been collected for some time,—the +bearers of the silver crosses, of the glittering +pillars, and of the gilt mace, those who shouldered +the pole-axes, the running footmen, and the +grooms who held the well-clothed mules. The +servants of the palace stood round, and there +came among them a troop of gentlemen in foreign +costume, whose country could not be divined from +their complexions, since each wore a mask, rarely +painted wherever left uncovered by a beard made +of gold or silver wire. When my Lord Cardinal +came forth, glowing in scarlet damask, and +towering above everybody else by the height of +the pillion and black velvet noble which he carried +on his head, these strangers hastened to +range themselves round the mule, (little less +disguised than they,) and to offer a homage which +savoured of mockery nearly as strongly as that +of casual passengers, who had good reason for beholding +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.02'>02</span>with impatience the ostentatious triumphs +of the “butcher’s dog,” as an angry man had +been heard to call my Lord Cardinal. Wolsey +made a sudden halt, and his goodly shoe, blazing +with gems, met the ground less tenderly than +was its wont, as its wearer stopped to cast a keen +glance upon the strangers. He removed from +beneath his nose the orange peel filled with confections +which might defy the taint of the common +people, and handed it to a page, with a +motion which signified that he perceived how an +atmosphere awaited him which he need not fear +to breathe. There was then a general pause.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Pleaseth it your Grace,” said one of the +strangers, “there are certain in Blackfriars that +await your Grace’s passage and arrival, to prosper +a light affair, in which your Grace’s countenance +will be comfortable to them. Will it please you +to spare them further perplexity of delay?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Cardinal bowed low to the speaker, +mounted his mule in all solemnity, and in a low +voice asked for the honour of the stranger’s latest +commands to his obedient parliament.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Commend us heartily to them, and see that +they be readily obedient. We commend them +to your Grace’s tuition and governance. We +will be advertised of their answer at a certain +fair house at Chelsea, where we shall divert ourselves +till sunset. Pray heaven your Grace may +meet as good diversion in Blackfriars!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The strangers renewed their obeisances, and +drew back to allow the Cardinal’s stately retinue +to form and proceed. The crowd of gazers +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.03'>03</span>moved on with the procession, and left but few +to observe the motions of the strangers when the +last scarlet drapery had fluttered, and the last +gold mace had gleamed on the sight. He who +seemed the leader of the foreigners then turned +from the gate of the episcopal palace, followed +by his companions. All mounted mules which +awaited them at some distance, and proceeded in +the direction of Chelsea.</p> + +<p class='c001'>They saw many things on the way with which +they might make merry. Pale, half-naked men +were employed along the whole length of road +in heaping up wood for bonfires, as the people +had been told that it pleased the King’s Highness +that they should rejoice for a mighty success +over the French. There was something very +diverting, it was found, in the economy of one +who reserved a clean bit of board to be sawn into +dust to eke out the substance of his children’s +bread; and nothing could be more amusing than +the coolness with which another pulled up the +fence of his little field, that the wood might go +to the bonfire, and the scanty produce of the soil +to any wandering beggar who chose to take it, +the owner having spent his all in supporting this +war, and being now about to become a wandering +beggar himself. He was complimented on +his good cheer, when he said that the king’s asses +were welcome to the thistles of his field, and the +king’s pages to adorn themselves with the roses +of his garden, since the king himself had levied +as tribute the corn of the one and the fruits of +the other. There was also much jesting with a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.04'>04</span>damsel who seemed nothing loth to part with her +child, when they offered playfully to steal it to be +brought up for the wars. She thought the boy +might thus perchance find his father, since he +owed his birth to one who had promised the +woman to get her father released from the prison +where he pined because he was unable to pay his +share of the Benevolence by which the King’s +wars were to be carried on. She would give her +son in exchange for her father, in hopes of forgetting +her anger and her shame. The child +was cast back into her arms with the assurance +that when he was strong enough to wield his +weapon, the King’s Highness would call for him. +The next diverting passage was the meeting with +a company of nuns, on their way from their despoiled +convent to find a hiding-place in London. +There was some exercise of wit in divining, while +the maidens kept their veils before their faces, +which of them were under four-and-twenty, and +might therefore be toyed with, according to the +royal proclamation, that all below that age were +released from their vows. When the veils were +pulled aside, there was loud laughter at the +trembling of some of the women, and the useless +rage of others, and at the solemn gravity of the +youngest and prettiest of them all, who was reproved +by her superior for putting on a bold, undismayed +face when so many older and wiser +sisters were brought to their wits’ end. Nothing +could be made of her, and she was therefore the +first to be forgotten when new matter of sport +appeared. A friar, fatter than he seemed likely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.05'>05</span>to be in future, was seen toiling along the road +under a loaded basket, which the frolickers were +certain must contain something good, from its +being in the custody of a man of God. They +got round him, so enclosing him with their beasts +that he could not escape, and requested to be +favoured with the sight and scent of the savoury +matters which his basket doubtless contained, and +for which they hungered and thirsted, since they +had seen none but meagre fare in the houses +they had passed:—little better than coarse bread +had met their eyes since their own morning meal. +The friar was not unwilling to display his treasures, +(although unsavoury,) in the hope of a parting +gift: so the eyes of the stranger were regaled +with the parings of St. Edmund’s toes,—the most +fastidious of saints in respect of his feet, to judge +from the quantity of such parings as one and +another of the present company had seen since +there had been a stir among the monasteries. +There were two of the coals which had roasted +St. Lawrence—now cool enough to be safely +handled. A head of St. Ursula,—very like a +whale,—but undoubtedly a head of St. Ursula, +because it was a perfect preventive of weeds in +corn. The friar was recommended to bestow it +upon the poor man who had been seen pulling +up the fence of his barren field; but the leader +of the party could not spare the friar at present. +The holy man did not know his own age, for +certain. He must,—all the party would take +their oath of it,—be under four-and-twenty, and +his merriment would match admirably with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.06'>06</span>gravity of the young nun who had just passed. +Two of the revellers were sent back to catch, and +bring her with all speed to Chelsea, where she +should be married to the friar before the day was +over; the King’s Highness being pleased to +give her a dower. The friar affected to enjoy this +as a jest, and sent a message to the damsel while +inwardly planning how to escape from the party +before they should reach Chelsea.</p> + +<p class='c001'>His planning was in vain. He was ordered +to ride behind one of the revellers, and his precious +burden of relics was committed to the charge +of another, and some of the mocking eyes of the +party were for ever fixed on the holy man, insomuch +that he did not dare to slip down and attempt +to escape; and far too soon for him appeared +the low, rambling house, its expanse of +roof alive with pert pigeons, its garden alleys +stretching down to the Thames, and its porch +and gates guarded with rare, grim-looking stuffed +quadrupeds placed in attitudes,—very unlike the +living animals which might be seen moving at +their pleasure in the meadow beyond.</p> + +<p class='c001'>On the approach of the party, one female face +after another appeared at the porch, vanished and +reappeared, till an elderly lady came forth, laden +with fruit, from a close alley, and served as a +centre, round which rallied three or four comely +young women, a middle-aged gentleman who was +the husband of one of them, and not a few children. +The elder dame smoothed a brow which +was evidently too apt to be ruffled, put into her +manner such little courtesy as she could attain, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.07'>07</span>and having seen that servants enough were in +attendance to relieve her guests of their mules, +offered the King’s Majesty the choice of the garden +or the cooler house, while a humble repast +was in course of preparation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The attendant gentlemen liked the look of the +garden, and the thought of straying through its +green walks, or sitting by the water’s edge in +company with the graceful and lively daughters +of Sir Thomas More; but Henry chose to rest +in the house, and it was necessary for some of his +followers to remain beside him. While some, +therefore, made their escape, and amused themselves +with finding similitudes for one young lady +in the swan which floated in a square pond, and +in sprinkling another with drops from the fountain +which rained coolness over the circular grass-plat, +others were called upon to follow the King +from the vestibule, which looked like the antechamber +to Noah’s ark, and the gallery where +the promising young artist, Holbein, had hung +two or three portraits, to the study,—the large +and airy study,—strewed with fresh rushes and +ornamented with books, manuscripts, maps, viols, +virginals, and other musical instruments, and +sundry specimens of ladies’ works.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Marry,” said the King, looking round him, +“there are no needs here of the lackery of my +Lord Cardinal’s and other palaces. These maps +and perspectives are as goodly as any cloth of +gold at Hampton, or any cloth of bodkin at York +House. Right fair ladies, this holy friar shall +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.08'>08</span>discourse to us, if you are so minded, of the +things here figured forth.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The ladies had been accustomed to hear a holy +man (though not a friar) discourse of things +which were not dreamed of in every one’s +philosophy; but they respectfully waited for +further light from the friar, who now stepped +forward to explain how no map could be made +complete, because the end of the land and sea, +where there was a precipice at its edge, overhanging +hell, was shrouded with a dark mist. He +found, with astonishing readiness, the country of +the infidels, and, the very place of the sepulchre, +and the land where recent travellers had met with +the breed of asses derived from the beast which +carried Christ into Jerusalem. These were known +from the common ass from having, not only +Christ’s common mark,—the cross,—but the +marks of his stripes; and from the race suffering +no one to ride them but a stray saint whom +they might meet wayfaring. Many more such +treasures of natural science did he lay open to +his hearers with much fluency, as long as uninterrupted; but +when the young ladies, as was +their wont when discoursing on matters of science +with their father or their tutor, made their inquiries +in the Latin tongue, the friar lost his eloquence, +and speedily substituted topics of theology; the +only matter of which he could treat in Latin. +This was not much to Henry’s taste. He could +at any time hear all the theology he chose treated +of by the first masters in his kingdom; but it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.09'>09</span>was not every day that graceful young creatures, +as witty as they were wise, were at hand to +amuse his leisure with true tales,—not “of men +whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders,” +but of things quite as unknown to his experience, +and far more beautiful to his fancy. It was a +pity that Mr. Roper, the husband of the eldest +of these young ladies, was present, as it prevented +the guests putting all the perplexing questions +which might otherwise have occurred to them.</p> + +<p class='c001'>By the time the house had resounded with +music, and the King had found his way up to the +roof of the house,—where he had more than once +amused himself with star-gazing, in the company +of his trusty and well-beloved, the honourable +Speaker, his host,—dinner was announced.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The dame had bustled about to so much purpose, +that the service of pewter made a grand +display, the board was amply spread, and the +King’s Highness was not called upon to content +himself with the homely fare of a farm-house, as +he had been assured he must. There was a +pudding which marvellously pleased the royal +palate; and Henry would know whose ingenuity +had devised the rare mixture of ingredients.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace,” replied the lady, "the +honour must be parted between me and Margaret, +now sitting at your Grace’s right hand. +The matter was put in a good train by me, in +every material point; but as touching the more +cunning and delicate—"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Mine own good mistress Margaret,” interrupted +Henry, “we are minded to distinguish +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.10'>10</span>the great pain and discretion that you have towardly +exercised on this matter; and for a recompense, +we appoint you the monies of the +next monastery that we shall require to surrender. +The only grace we ask is that we may appoint +the marriage of the monks who shall owe +their liberty to us. Please it you, holy father, to +advertise us of a sumptuous monastery that may +be most easily discharged?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I beseech your Grace to remember that what +the regal power may overthrow, the papal power +will rectify. Any damageable proceedings may +bring on the head of your Highness’s servants +a grievous punishment.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“From Servus Servorum?” said the King, +laughing. “Let him come to the succour of the +monks of Beggam, when they ring their abbey +bell, and carry away the sums in their treasury +from the hands of Mistress Margaret, to whom +we appoint them. Nay, Mistress Margaret, I +desire you as lovingly to take this largesse as I +do mean it; and ensure yourself that that was +ill-gotten which is now well-bestowed.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The friar probably wished to be dismissed from +the King’s presence before his destined bride +should arrive; for he muttered that dogs and +base poisoners, who have their chiefest hope in +this world, were ever ready to speak unfitting +and slanderous words against those whom the +holy Trinity held fast in his preservation. The +naughty friar received, not an order to go about +his business for supposing that Henry was deceived, +but a box on the ear from the dignified +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.11'>11</span>hands of the monarch, and a promise that he +should try the Little Ease in the Tower, if he +did not constrain his contumacious tongue in the +King’s presence. A dead silence followed this rebuff,—partly +caused by dismay at the King’s levity +about popish matters, and partly by sorrow that +he should wantonly increase the enmity which +was known to be borne to him by the monks +and friars in his dominions. The only way of +restoring the banished mirth was to call in one +who stood without,—the facetious natural who +was wont to season Henry’s repasts with his +jests.</p> + +<p class='c001'>As the jester entered, a royal messenger was +seen standing outside, as if anxious to deliver +the letter he had in charge; and, unfitting as +seemed the time, it was presently in the hands of +Henry. Its contents seemed to leave him in no +humour for feast or jest; and he had given no +further signal for mirth when his entirely beloved +counsellor, the Cardinal, and his trusty and +honourable Speaker arrived,—the one to glow +and glitter in his costly apparel, and feast off +“plump fesaunts,” and the other to resume the +homely guise he loved best, and refresh himself +with fruits and water.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Marry, my Lords,” cried the King, when +they were seated, one on each side of him, “if +the Lower House be not mindful of our needs, +our sister of Scotland may satisfy herself for her +jewels as she may. She is ashamed therewith; +and would God there had never been word of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.12'>12</span>legacy, as the jewels are worth less to her than +our estimation.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Says the Queen of Scotland so much?” inquired +the Cardinal.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Satisfy yourself how much more,” replied +the King, handing to Wolsey the angry letter in +which Margaret of Scotland expressed her contempt +for the withholding of her father’s legacy +of jewels.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Please your Highness, there are matters of +other necessity than a perplexed woman’s letter,” +observed the Cardinal, with a freedom of speech +which was not now displeasing to his master.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Another wager lost by the Princess’s governante +in her Highness’ name? Let us divert +ourself with the inventory, my Lord Cardinal, +while you refresh yourself in a more hearty wise +than our trusty host.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Wolsey was impatient to consult upon the +measures necessary to be taken to follow up the +extorted resolution of the House to furnish supplies +to the King’s needs: but Henry was in a +mood for trifling, and he would examine for +himself the list of requests from the steward of the +Princess’s household; a list regularly addressed +to the Cardinal, who chose to superintend the +details of all the management that he could get +into his own hands. Passing his arm round +More’s neck, the King jested upon the items in +the letter,—the ship of silver for the alms-dish, +the spice plates, the disguisings for an interlude +at a banquet, the trumpets for the minstrels, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.13'>13</span>and a bow and quiver for his lady’s Grace. +There was an earnest beseeching for a Lord of +Misrule for the honourable household, and for +a rebeck to be added to the band. A fair steel +glass from Venice was desired, and a pair of hose +wrought in silk and gold from Flanders. There +was an account of a little money paid for “Mr. +John poticary” coming to see my lady sick, +and a great deal for a pound and a half of gold +for embroidering a night-gown. Something was +paid for a frontlet lost in a wager with my little +lady Jane; and something more for the shaving +of her Grace’s fool’s head; and, again, for +binding prentice the son of a servant, and for +Christopher, the surgeon, letting her lady’s +Grace blood; and again for a wrought carnation +satin for the favoured lady’s maid.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I marvel, my Lord Cardinal,” said the +King, “that your Grace can take advice of the +ordering of the Princess’s spice plates, and leave +your master to be sorely perplexed with the +grooms and the yeomen and pages, and those +that bring complaints from the buttery, and the +wardrobe of beds, and the chaundery, and the +stables, till my very life is worn with tales of the +mighty wants and debts of the household.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace, my most curious inquisition +hath of late been into the particulars +of the royal household; and my latest enemies +are divers grooms, yeomen, and pages, whom I +have compelled to perform their bounden service +to your Majesty, or to surrender it.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Speaker conceived that the charge of his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.14'>14</span>own household would be enough for the Cardinal, +if he were made as other men; but as the +King’s was added, that of the Princess might +reasonably devolve upon some less occupied——</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Upon yourself?” inquired the King. “Marry, +if you were to appoint your spare diet of fruit for +the Princess, Mistress Margaret should add to it +such a pudding as I have to-day tasted. What +say you, Mistress Margaret?” he continued, calling +back the ladies who were modestly retiring, +on finding the conversation turning upon matters +of state.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My Margaret has no frontlets to lose in +betting,” observed Sir Thomas More. “But +your Grace knows that there are many who have +more leisure for ordering the Princess’s household +than your poor councillor. There are divers in +your good city of London who can tell whether +the silver ship for the alms-dish will not carry +away the alms; and we have passed some by the +wayside to-day who would see somewhat miraculous +in these Venetian mirrors, not knowing their +own faces therein.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“These are not mirrors whose quality it is to +make faces seem long, or, certes, we ourself +would use one,” said the King.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Long faces might sometimes be seen without +glasses,” Sir Thomas More quietly replied.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“As for shaven fools’ heads,” observed the +King, looking at the friar, “there is no need to +go to the Princess’s household to divert ourselves +with that spectacle. We will beseech our released +monks, who must needs lack occupation, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.15'>15</span>to watch over their brethren of our household in +this particular.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Sir Thomas More requested the friar to pronounce +the thanksgiving over the board, (as +the Cardinal had at length finished his meal,) and +to instruct the women in certain holy matters, +while the King’s Highness should receive account +of the passages of the morning.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Henry looked from the one to the other to +know what had been their success in raising +money from his faithful Commons. The Cardinal +opened to him his plans for securing assent +to the levy of an enormous benevolence. Wolsey +himself had never been more apt, more +subtle, more busy, than in his devices on this +occasion. He had found errands in remote parts +for most whose obstinacy was to be feared. He +had ordered down to the House all the King’s +servants who had a vote there: had discharged +easily of their sins many who were wavering in +the matter of the subsidy; and had made as imposing +an appearance as possible on going to +Blackfriars to “reason” with the members who +believed that the people could not pay the money. +And what was the result?</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Please it your Grace to understand that there +hath been the greatest and sorest hold in the +House that ever was seen, I think, in any Parliament. +There was such a hold that the House +was like to be dissevered, but that the Speaker +did mediate graciously between your Highness +and the greedy Jews that bearded me.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Mediate, I trow! And why not command, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.16'>16</span>as beseems the Speaker?” cried the King, glancing +angrily on More.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“In his bearing the Speaker is meek,” observed +Wolsey, with some malice in his tone. +“His words were dutiful, and the lowness of his +obeisance an ensample to the whole Parliament.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And what were his acts?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“He informed me that the Commons are not +wont to be reasoned with by strangers, and that +the splendour of my poor countenance must +needs bewilder their deliberations.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“So be it. We have deliberated too long +and too deeply for our royal satisfaction on the +matter of filling our coffers. We expect our +Commons to fill them without deliberation. +Wherefore this repining and delay?” asked +Henry of More.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Because your Grace’s true servants would +that this vast sum should be well and peaceably +levied, without grudge——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We trouble not ourself about the grudge, if +it be surely paid,” interrupted Henry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We would that your Grace should not lose +the true hearts of your subjects, which we reckon +a greater treasure than gold and silver,” replied +the Speaker.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And why lose their hearts? Do they think +that no man is to fare well, and be well clothed +but themselves?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That is the question they have this morning +asked of the Lord Cardinal,” replied More, +“when my Lord discoursed to them of the wealth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.17'>17</span>of the nation, as if it were a reason why they should +make such a grant as your Majesty’s ancestors +never heard of. One said that my lord had seen +something of the wealth of the nation, in the form +of a beautiful welcoming of your Majesty; but of +the nation’s poverty, it is like the Lord Cardinal +has seen less than he may see, if the benevolence +is finally extorted.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And who is this one that beards my Lord +Cardinal?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The one who spoke of the nation’s poverty is +one who hath but too much cause to do so from what +his own eyes have seen within his own household. +He is one Richard Read, an honourable alderman +of London, once wealthy, but now, as I said, +entitled, through his service to your Majesty, to +discourse of poverty.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Marry, I would that he would discourse of +our poverty as soothly as of his own. Has he +been bearded by France? Is he looking for an +invasion from Scotland? Has he relations with +his Holiness, and enterprizes of war to conduct?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Such were the questions of my Lord Cardinal. +He seems to be fully possessed of your +Grace’s mind.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And what was the answer?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That neither had the late King left to him in +legacy nearly two millions of pounds. Neither +had he levied a benevolence last year, nor borrowed +twenty thousand pounds of the city of +London. If he had, there might not now perhaps +have been occasion for alleging such high necessity +on the King’s part, nor for such high poverty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.18'>18</span>expressed, not only by the commoners, citizens, +and burgesses, but by knights, esquires, and gentlemen +of every quarter.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And the Lord Cardinal did not allow such +argument of poverty. How did he rebuke the +traitor for his foul sayings?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If it like your Grace, this Richard Read was +once this day ordered to be committed to prison, +but he is still abroad. He regards himself and +his family as despoiled by never having rest from +payments; and he cares not greatly what he does. +This is also the condition of so many that it +would not be safe to offer vengeance till the +cuckoo time and hot weather (at which time mad +brains are most wont to be busy) shall be overpassed.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The King rose in great disturbance, and demanded +of Wolsey why he had not sent to a distance +all who were likely to dispute the subsidy +he desired. Wolsey coolly assured him that this +was an easier thing to speak of than to do, as +there were but too large a number who desired +that no more conquests should be sought in +France, urging that the winning thereof would +be more chargeful than profitable, and the keeping +more chargeful than the winning. Audacious +dogs were these, the Cardinal declared; +but it must be wary whipping till some could be +prevented from flying at the throat, while another +was under the lash. But the day should +come when those who ought to think themselves +only too much honoured in being allowed to +supply the King’s needs, should leave off impertinently +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.19'>19</span>speculating on the infinite sums which +they said had been already expended in the invading +of France, out of which nothing had prevailed +in comparison with the costs. If his Majesty +would but turn over his vengeance to his +poor councillor, the pernicious knaves should be +made to repent.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Of the salt tears they have shed, only for +doubt how to find money to content the King’s +Highness?” inquired More.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Their tears shall hiss hot upon their cheeks +in the fire of my vengeance,” cried the King. +“Send this traitor Read to prison, that he may +answer for his words. If he keeps his head, he +shall come out with such a hole in his tongue +as shall make him for ever glad to keep it +within his teeth.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Cardinal endeavoured to divert the King’s +rage. He was as willing as his royal master that +this honest alderman Read should suffer for his +opposition to the exactions of the Government; +but he knew that to send one murmurer to prison +at this crisis would be to urge on to rebellion +thousands of the higher orders, to head the insurrections +which were already beginning in the +eastern counties. He now hastened to assure +Henry that there had not been wanting some +few men besides himself to rebuke the stupidity +of those who complained of the impoverishment +of the nation, and to explain that that which was +given to the King for his needs was returned +by the King in the very supplying of those needs.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“After there had been much discourse,” said +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.20'>20</span>he, “of what straits the nation would be in if +every man had to pay away his money, and how +the whole frame and intercourse of things would +be altered if tenants paid their landlords in corn +and cattle, so that the landlords would have but +little coin left for traffic, so that the nation itself, +for want of money, must grow in a sort barbarous +and ignoble, it was answered that the money was +only transferred into the hands of others of the +same nation, as in a vast market where, though +the coin never lies still, all are accommodated.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I will use despatch,” observed More, “to +write this comforting news to a cousin-german of +mine, who is in sore distress because some rogues +have despoiled him of a store of angels that he had +kept for his daughter’s dower. I will assure him +that there can be no impoverishment in his case.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Wolsey had not finished his speech. He had +something still to say about how much more +precious was the wealth which descended from +the throne in streams of royal bounty and custom +than when it went up from the rude hands of his +unworthy subjects. His Majesty only accepted +for a time, in order to return what he had received, +embalmed with his grace, and rendered +meet to be handled with reverential ecstacy.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Further good tidings for my cousin-german,” +observed More. "If the money which has been +taken from him be spent in purchasing his corn +and cattle, he has nothing to complain of. His +injury is repaired, and his daughters are dowered. +O rare reparation,—when the gentleman +is no worse, and the rogues are the better by the +corn and cattle!"</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.21'>21</span>“At this rate, O rare philosopher!” said +Henry, “the way to make men rich is to rob +them; and to tax a people is to give them wealth. +We have wit, friend, to spy out jest from earnest. +But who reports of these salt tears?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Does not every report from the eastern +counties savour of them?” inquired More. “And +in the west a like pernicious rheum distils in the +cold wind of poverty. And so it is in the north +and south, though this be the cuckoo time, and +the season of hot weather.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is the Parliament, your Grace may be assured,” +interrupted the Cardinal,—“it is your +right trusty Lower House that devises sad tales of +salt tears to move such pitiful hearts as that of +the Honourable Speaker. If your Grace had +seen how enviously they looked upon my poor +train, as we entered Blackfriars, and how they +stood peevishly mute in the House, each one like +your Highness’s natural under disfavour, your +Grace would marvel that the tales are not of +tears of blood.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Patience!” said More. “The next east +wind will bring such rumours as you speak of. +They are already abroad.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The Parliament shall not puff them in our +face,” cried Henry. “On our conscience, we +have borne with our faithless Commons too long. +They shall have another seven years to spy out +the poverty that is above them, while we will not +listen to their impertinent tales of that which is +below. My Lord Cardinal, let them be dispersed +for seven years.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.22'>22</span>“And then,” observed More, "they will have +time to learn what your Majesty’s wisdom already +discerns,—how much more fatal is poverty in +high places than in low. The contemptible +handicraftsman can, while consuming his scanty +food of to-day, produce the scanty food of to-morrow; +while the gallants of your Grace’s +court,—right noble gentlemen as they are,—must +beg of the low artizan to repair to-morrow +that which they magnificently consume to-day."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My nobles are not beggars,” cried the King. +“They pay for their pomp.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Most true. And their gold is right carefully +cleansed from the rust of salt tears, which else +might blister their delicate fingers. But were it +not better for them to take their largess from the +people in corn and meat and wine at once,—since +the coin which they handle hath been already +touched by the owner of land who has taken it +as rent, or, worse still, by the merchant as his +gains, or, worst of all, by the labourer as his +hire?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Wolsey assured the Speaker that his suggestion +would soon be acted upon. The people were so +shy of making payments from their rent, their +profits, and their wages, that it would be necessary +to take for the King’s service the field of +the landowner, the stock of the merchant, +and——</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And what next? For then there will be +left no hire for the labourer.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Cardinal grew suddenly oracular about +the vicissitudes of human affairs, and the presumption +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.23'>23</span>of looking into futurity. The Speaker +bowed low under the holy man’s discourse, and +the King was reassured.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I marvel that your wit does not devise some +pastimes that may disperse the ill-blood of the +people,” said Henry. “Dull homes cloud men’s +minds with vapours; and your Grace is full +strict with them in respect of shows and outward +apparel. My gallants have not ceased their +jests on the aged man from whom your Grace’s +own hands stripped the crimson jacket decked +with gauds. And there is talk of many pillories +being wanted for men who have worn shirts of a +finer texture than suits your Grace’s pleasure.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Is there not amusement enough for the +people,” asked More, "in gazing at the Lord +Cardinal’s train? For my part, I know not elsewhere +of so fine a pageant. If they must have +more, the legate is coming, and who has measured +the scarlet cloth which is sent over to Calais +to clothe Campeggio’s train? This will set +the people agape for many days,—if they can +so spy out my Lord Cardinal’s will about their +apparel as to dare to come forth into the highway."</p> + +<p class='c001'>The King thought the pleasure of beholding a +pageant did not last long enough effectually to +quiet the popular discontents. He wished that +fields could be opened for the sports of the young +men, and that companies of strolling mummers +could be supported at the royal expense. His +miraculous bounty and benignity were extolled +so that it was a pity the people themselves were +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.24'>24</span>not by to say Amen; but it was feared the said +people must take the will for the deed, as, in the +present condition of the exchequer, it was impossible +to afford the appropriation of the ground, +the outlay upon it to render it fit for the proposed +objects, or the annual expense of keeping it up. +The people must remain subject to blue devils, +and liable to rebellion, till the Scots were beaten +off, and the French vanquished; till the Pope had +done with Henry, and the court had been gratified +with a rare new masque, for which an extraordinary +quantity of cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, +and cloth of taffety, and cloth of bodkin, would +be necessary; to say nothing of the forty-four +varieties of jewelled copes of the richest materials +which had been ordered for the chaplains and +cunning singing-men of the royal chapel. The +king’s dignity must be maintained;—a truth in +which More fully agreed. What kingly dignity +is, he was wont to settle while pacing one of the +pleached alleys of his garden as the sun was +going down in state, presenting daily a gorgeous +spectacle which neither Wolsey nor Campeggio +could rival, and which would have been better +worth the admiration of the populace if their eyes +had not been dimmed by hunger, and their spirits +jarred by tyranny into a dissonance with nature. +More was wont to ridicule himself as a puppet +when decked out with his official trappings; and he +was apt to fancy that such holy men as the future +Defender of the Faith and the anointed Cardinal +must have somewhat of the same notions of +dignity as himself.—There were also seasons +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.25'>25</span>when he remembered that there were other +purposes of public expenditure besides the +maintenance of the outward state of the sovereign. +His daughters and he had strengthened one +another in the notion that the public money +ought to be laid out in the purchase of some +public benefit; and that it would not be unpardonable +in the nation to look even beyond the +<span class='sc'>Defence</span> of their territory, and ask for an ample +administration of <span class='sc'>Justice</span>, a liberal provision for +<span class='sc'>Public Works</span>, and perhaps, in some wiser age, +an extensive apparatus of <span class='sc'>National Education</span>. +He was wont to look cheerfully to the +good Providence of God in matters where he could +do nothing; but he was far from satisfied that +the enormous sums squandered in damaging the +French availed anything for the defence of the +English; or that those who most needed justice +were the most likely to obtain it, as long as it +must be sought with a present in the hand which +was not likely to be out-bid; or that the itinerant +justice-mongers of his day were of much advantage +to the people, as long as their profits and their +credit in high quarters depended on the amount +they delivered in as amercements of the guilty. +He was not at all sure that the peasant who had +done his best to satisfy the tax-gatherer was the +more secure against the loss of what remained of +his property, whenever a strong oppressor should +choose to wrest it from him. He could see +nothing done in the way of public works by which +the bulk of the tax-payers might be benefited. +Indeed, public possessions of this kind were +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.26'>26</span>deteriorating even faster, if possible, than private +property; and the few rich commoners, here and +there, who dreaded competition in their sales of +produce, might lay aside their fears for the present. +Competition was effectually checked, not only by +the diminution of capital, but by the decay of +roads and bridges which there were no funds to +repair. As for education, the only chance was +that the people might gain somewhat by the +insults offered to the Church. The unroofed +monks might carry some slight scent of the odour +of learning from the dismantled shrines; but +otherwise it seemed designed that the people’s +acquaintance with polite learning should be confined +to two points which were indeed very strenuously +taught,—the King’s supremacy and the +Cardinal’s infallibility.</p> + +<p class='c001'>More was not much given to reverie. While +others were discoursing, his ready wit seldom +failed to interpose to illustrate and vivify what +was said. His low, distinct utterance made +itself heard amidst the laughter or the angry +voices which would have drowned the words of +almost any one else; and the aptness of his +speech made him as eagerly sought in the royal +circle as sighed for by his own family, when he +was not at hand to direct and enlighten their +studies in their modest book-chamber. He was +much given to thought in his little journeys to +and from town, and in his leisure hours of river-gazing, +and star-exploring; but he seldom +indulged his meditations in company. Now, +however, while Henry and Wolsey laid their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.27'>27</span>scheme for swearing every man of the King’s +subjects to his property, and taxing him accordingly,—not +only without the assistance of +Parliament, but while the Commons were +dispersed for seven years,—More was speculating +within himself on the subject of kingly dignity.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“One sort of dignity,” thought he, "consists +with the purposes of him who regards his people +as his servants, and another with the wishes of him +who regards himself as the servant of his people. +As for the monarchs who live in times when the +struggle is which party shall be a slave, God’s +mercy be on them and their people! Their +throne moves, like an idol’s car, over the bones +of those who have worshipped or defied their +state; and they have fiends to act as mummers +in their pageants, and defiled armour for their +masques, and much dolorous howling in the place +of a band of minstrels. In such days the people +pay no tax, because the monarch has only to +stretch forth his hand and take. It is a better +age when the mummers are really merry, and +minstrels make music that gladdens the heart +like wine; and gaudy shows make man’s face to +shine like the oil of the Hebrews: but it would +be better if this gladdening of some made no +heart heavy; and this partial heaviness must +needs be where childish sports take place; and +the gawds of a court like ours are but baby +sports after all. When my little ones made a +pageant in the meadow, there were ever some +sulking, sooner or later, under the hedge or +within the arbour, while there was unreasonable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.28'>28</span>mirth among their fellows in the open sunshine,—however +all might be of one accord in the study +and at the board. And so is it ever with those +who follow childish plays, be they august kings, +or be they silly infants. But it is no April grief +that clouds the faces of the people while their +King is playing the master in order afterwards +to enact the buffoon. They have spent more +upon him than the handful of meadow-flowers +that children fling into the lap to help the show; +and they would do worse in their moods than +pull these gay flowers to pieces, after the manner +of a freakish babe. Remembering that it is the +wont of honest masters to pay their servants, +they are ill content to pay the very roofs from off +their houses, and the seed from out of their +furrows, to be lorded over, and for the greatest +favour, laid at the gate to see Dives pass in and +out in his purple and fine linen. It is ill sport +for Dives to whistle up his dogs to lick the poor +man’s sores when so black a gulf is opening +yonder to swallow up his pomp. May be, his +brethren that shall come after him shall be wiser; +as all are apt to become as time rolls on. The +matin hour decks itself gorgeously with long +bright trains, and flaunts before men’s winking +eyes, as if all this grandeur were not made of +tears caught up for a little space into a bright +region, but in their very nature made to dissolve +and fall in gloom. But then there is an end of +the folly, and out of the gloom step forth other +hours, growing clearer, and more apt to man’s +steady uses; so that when noon is come, there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.29'>29</span>is no more pranking and shifting of purple and +crimson clouds, but the sun is content to light +men perfectly to their business, without being +worshipped as he was when gayer but less +glorious. Perhaps a true sun-like king may +come some day, when men have grown eagle-eyed +to hail such an one; and he will not be for +calling people from their business to be dazzled +with him; nor for sucking up all that the earth +will yield, so that there may be drought around +and gloom overhead. Rather will he call out +bubbling springs from the warm hill-side, and cast +a glister over every useful stream, to draw men’s +eyes to it; and would rather thirst himself than +that they should. Such an one will be content +to leave it to God’s hand to fill him with glory, +and would rather kiss the sweat from off the poor +man’s brow, than that the labourer should waste +the precious time in falling on his knees to him +to mock him with idolatry. Though he be high +enough above the husbandman’s head, he is not +the lord of the husbandman, but in some sort his +servant; though it be a service of more glory +than any domination.—If he should chance vainly +to forget that there sitteth One above the firmament, +he may find that the same Maker who +once stayed the sun for the sake of one oppressed +people may, at the prayer of another, wheel the +golden throne hurriedly from its place, and call +out constellations of lesser lights, under whose +rule men may go to and fro, and refresh themselves +in peace. The state of a king that domineers is +one thing; and the dignity of a king that serves +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.30'>30</span>and blesses is another; and this last is so noble, +that if any shall arise who shall not be content +with the office’s simplicity, but must needs deck it +with trappings and beguile it with toys, let him +be assured that he is as much less than man as +he is more than ape; and it were wiser in him to +rummage out a big nut to crack, and set himself +to switch his own tail, than seek to handle the +orb and stretch out the sceptre of kings."</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was a day of disappointments to Henry. +Not only were his Commons anything but +benevolently disposed towards furnishing the +benevolence required, but the young nun would +not come to be married to the friar. The +gallants who had been sent for her now appeared +before the King with fear and trembling, bearing +sad tidings of the sturdiness of female self-will. +They had traced the maiden to the house of her +father, one Richard Read, and had endeavoured +to force her away with them, notwithstanding her +own resistance, and her mother’s and sister’s +prayers and tears. In the midst of the dispute, +her father had returned from Blackfriars, surrounded +by the friends who had joined him in +declining the tribute which they were really +unable to pay. Heated by the insolent words +which had been thrown at them by the Cardinal, +and now exasperated by the treatment his +daughter had met with, Read had dropped a few +words,—wonderfully fierce to be uttered in the +presence of courtiers in those days,—which were +now repeated in the form of a message to the +King:—Read had given his daughter to be the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.31'>31</span>spouse of Christ, and had dowered her accordingly; +and it did not now suit his paternal +ambition that she should be made the spouse of +a houseless friar for the bribe of a dowry from +the King; this dowry being actually taken from +her father under the name of a benevolence to +aid the King’s necessities. He would neither +sell his daughter nor buy the King’s favour.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Henry was of course enraged, and ordered the +arrest of the entire household of Richard Read; +a proceeding which the Cardinal and the Speaker +agreed in disliking as impolitic in the present +crisis. Wolsey represented to the King that there +could be no failure of the subsidy if every recusant +were reasoned with apart, instead of being +placed in a position where his malicious frowardness +would pervert all the rest of the waverers. +If good words and amiable behaviour did not +avail to induce men to contribute, the obstinate +might be brought before the privy council; or, +better still, be favoured with a taste of military +service. Henry seized upon the suggestion, +knowing that such service as that of the Border +war was not the pleasantest occupation in the +world for a London alderman, at the very time +when his impoverished and helpless family especially +needed his protection. He lost sight, for +the time, as Wolsey intended that he should, of +the daughter, while planning fresh tyranny towards +her father. The church would be spared the +scandal of such a jesting marriage as had been +proposed, if, as the Cardinal hoped, the damsel +should so withdraw herself as not to be found in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.32'>32</span>the morning. The religious More had aspirations +to the same effect.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is a turning of nature from its course,” +said he, “to make night-birds of these tender +young swallows; but they are answerable who +scared them from beneath their broad eaves when +they were nestled and looked for no storm. Pray +the Lord of Hosts that he may open a corner in +some one of his altars for this ruffled fledgeling!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Little did the gentle daughters of More suspect +for what message they were summoned to produce +writing materials, and desired to command +the attendance of a king’s messenger. Their +father was not required to be aiding and abetting +in this exercise of royal tyranny. Perceiving +that his presence was not wished for, he stepped +into his orchard, to refresh himself with speculations +on his harvest of pippins, and to hear what +his family had to say on his position with respect +to the mighty personages within.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I marvel,” said his wife to him, “that you +should be so wedded to your own small fancies as +to do more things that may mislike his Grace +than prove your own honest breeding. What +with your undue haste to stretch your limbs in +your bedesman’s apparel, and your simple desire +to mere fruit and well-water, his Highness +may right easily content himself that his bounty +can add nothing to your state.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And so shall he best content me, dame. +Worldly honour is the thing of which I have resigned +the desire; and as for worldly profit, I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.33'>33</span>trust experience proveth, and shall daily prove, +that I never was very greedy therein.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Roper saw no reason for the lady’s rebuke +or apprehensions. When did the King’s +Highness ever more lovingly pass his arm round +any subject’s neck than this day, when he caressed +the honourable Speaker of his faithful Commons?</p> + +<p class='c001'>“There is full narrow space, Mr. Roper, between +my shoulders and my head to serve as a +long resting-place for a king’s caress. Trust me, +if he had been a Samson, and if it had suited the +pleasure of his Grace, he would at that moment +have plucked my head from my shoulders before +you all. It may be well for plain men that a +king’s finger and thumb are not stronger than +those of any other man.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Henry and his poor councillor now appeared +from beneath the porch, the one not the less gay, +the other not the less complacent, for their having +together made provision for the utter ruin of a +family whose only fault was their poverty. A +letter had been written to the general commanding +on the Scotch border, to desire that Richard +Read, now sent down to serve as a soldier at his +own charge, should be made as miserable as possible, +should be sent out on the most perilous +duty in the field, and subjected to the most severe +privations in garrison, and used in all things +according to the sharp military discipline of the +northern wars, in retribution for his refusing to +pay money which he did not possess. The snare +being thus fixed, the train of events laid by which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.34'>34</span>the unhappy wife and daughters were to be compelled +first to surrender their only guardian, then +to give their all for his ransom from the enemy, +and, lastly, to mourn him slain in the field,—this +hellish work being carefully set on foot, the +devisers thereof came forth boldly into God’s daylight, +to amuse themselves with innocence and +flatter the ear of beauty till the sun went down, +and then to mock the oppressed citizens of London +with the tumult of their pomp and revelry. +Perhaps some who turned from the false glare to +look up into the pure sky might ask why the +heavens were clear,—where slept the thunderbolt?</p> +<hr class='c011'> +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.35'>35</span> + <h3 id='ch2.2' class='c012'>SECOND AGE.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>It was not Sunday morning, yet the bells of +every steeple in London had been tolling since +sunrise; the shops were all shut; and there was +such an entire absence of singers and jugglers, +of dancing bears and frolicking monkeys in the +streets, that it might seem as if the late Protector +had risen from his grave, and stalked abroad to +frown over the kingdom once more. Nothing +this morning betokened the reign of a merry +monarch. No savour of meats issued from any +house; no echo of music was heard; the streets +were as yet empty, the hour of meeting for worship +not having arrived, and there being no other +cause for coming abroad. There was more than +a sabbath purity in the summer sky, unstained by +smoke as it could never be but on the day of a +general fast in summer. The few boats on the +river which brought worshippers from a distance +to observe the solemn ordinance in the city, +glided along without noise or display. There was +no exhibition of flags; no shouting to rival barks; +no matching against time. The shipping itself +seemed to have a mournful and penitential air, +crowded together in silence and stillness. The +present had been an untoward season, as regarded +the nation’s prosperity, in many respects; and +when the court and the people were heartily tired +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.36'>36</span>of the festivities which had followed the King’s +marriage, they bethought themselves of taking +the advice of many of their divines, and deprecating +the wrath of Heaven in a solemn day of +entreaty for rain, and for vengeance on their +enemies.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The deepest gloom was not where, perhaps, it +would have been looked for by the light-minded +who regarded such observances as very wholesome +for the common people, but extremely tiresome +for themselves. Dr. Reede, a young Presbyterian +clergyman, the beloved pastor of a large +congregation in London, came forth from his +study an hour before the time of service, with a +countenance anything but gloomy, though its +mild seriousness befitted the occasion. Having +fully prepared himself for the pulpit, he sought +his wife. He found her with her two little children, +the elder of whom was standing at a chair, +turning over the gilt leaves of a new book; while +the younger, a tender infant, nestled on its +mother’s bosom as she walked, in a rather hurried +manner, from end to end of the apartment.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What hath fallen out, Esther? Is the babe +ill-disposed?” asked the husband, stooping to +look into the tiny face that peeped over Esther’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The child is well, my love; and the greater +is my sin in being disturbed. I will be so no +more,” she continued, returning to the seat where +the child was playing with the book; “I will fret +myself no more on account of evildoers, as the +word of God gives commandment.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.37'>37</span>“Is it this which hath troubled you?” asked +her husband, taking up the volume,—the new +Book of Common Prayer,—of which every +clergyman must shortly swear that he believed +the whole, or lose his living. “We knew, +Esther, what must be in this book. We knew +that it must contain that which would make it to +us as the false gospel of the infidels; and, thus +knowing, there is no danger in the book.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>And he took it up, and turned over its pages, +presently observing, with a smile,—</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Truly, it is a small instrument wherewith to +be turned out of so large a living. I could lay +my finger over the parts which make a gulf between +my church and me which I may not pass. +The leaven is but little; but since there it must +lie, it leavens the whole lump.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do you think?” inquired Esther, hesitatingly; +"is it supposed that many will——that +your brethren regard the matter as you do?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It will be seen in God’s own time how many +make a conscience of the oaths they take in his +presence. For me it is enough that I believe not +all that is in this book. If it had been a question +whether the King would or would not compel the +oath, I could have humbled myself under his feet +to beseech him to spare the consciences which no +King can bind; but as it is now too late for this, +we must cheerfully descend to a low estate among +men, that we may look up before God.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Without doubt; I mean nought else; but +when, and where shall we go?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In a few days, unless it should please God to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.38'>38</span>touch the hearts that he hath hardened,—in a few +days we must gird ourselves to go forth."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“With these little ones! And where?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Where there may be some unseen to bid us +God speed! Whether the path shall open to the +right hand or to the left, what matters it?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"True: if a path be indeed opened. But +these little ones——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“God hath sent food into the heart of wildernesses +whence there was no path; and the Scripture +hath a word of the young ravens which +cry.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"It hath. I will never again, by God’s grace, +look back to the estate which my father lost for +this very King. But, without reckoning up that +score with him, it moves the irreligious themselves +to see how he guides himself in these +awful times,—toying in his palace-walks this +very morning, while he himself puts sackcloth on +the whole nation. Edmund is just come in from +seeing the King standing on the green walk in +the palace-garden, and jesting with the Jezebel +who ever contrives to be at that high, back window +as he passes by. I would the people knew +of it, that they might avoid the scandal of interceding +for a jester whom they suppose to be worshipping +with them, while he is thinking of nothing +so little all the time as worshipping any +but his own wantons."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If Edmund can thus testify, it is time that +I were enlarging my prayer for the King. If for +the godly we intercede seven times, should it not +for the ungodly be seventy-times seven?”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.39'>39</span>Mrs. Reede’s brother Edmund could confirm +the account. In virtue of an office which he +held, he had liberty to pass through the palace-garden. +The sound of mirth, contrasting strangely +with the distant toll of bells, had drawn him into +the shade; and he had seen Charles throwing +pebbles up to a window above, where a lady was +leaning out, and pelting him with sweetmeats in +return. It was hoped that the queen, newly married, +and a stranger in the country, was in some +far-distant corner of the palace, and that she did +not yet understand the tongue in which Charles’s +excesses were wont to be openly spoken of. The +Corporations of London had not yet done feasting +and congratulating this most unhappy lady; +but all supposed matter of congratulation was +already over. The clergy of the kingdom prayed +for her as much from compassion as duty; and +her fate served them as an unspoken text for their +discourses on the vanity of worldly greatness. The +mothers of England dropped tears at the thought +of the lonely and insulted stranger; and their +daughters sighed their pity for the neglected +bride.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund now came into the room, and his appearance +cost Dr. Reede more sighs than his own +impending anxieties. Though Edmund held a +place of honour and trust at the Admiralty, he +had been in possession of it too short a time to +justify such a display as he had of late appeared +disposed to make. On this day of solemn fast, +he seemed to have no thought of sackcloth, but +showed himself in a summer black bombazin +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.40'>40</span>suit, trimmed very nobly with scarlet ribbon; a +camlet cloak, lined with scarlet; a prodigious +periwig, and a new beaver.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What news do you bring from the navy-yards?” +inquired Dr. Reede. “Is there hope of +the ill spirit being allayed, and the defence of the +country cared for?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“In truth, but little,” replied Edmund, "unless +it become the custom to pay people their dues. +What with the quickness of the enemy, and the +slowness of the people to work without their +wages, and the chief men running after the shows +and pastimes of the court, and others keeping +their hands by their sides through want of the +most necessary materials, and the waste that +comes of wanton idleness,—it is said by certain +wise persons that it will be no wonder if our +enemies come to our very shores to defy us, and +burn our shipping in our own river."</p> + +<p class='c001'>°How is it that you obtain your dues, Edmund? +This neat suit would be hardly paid for +out of your private fortune."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is time for me to go like myself,” said +Edmund, conceitedly, “liable as I am to stand +before the King or the Duke. I might complain, +like the rest, that but little money is to be seen; +but, with such as I have, I must do honour to +the King’s Majesty, whom I am like to see to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede had so strong an apprehension that +Edmund would soon be compelled, like others, to +forego his salary, that she saw little that was safe +and honourable in spending his money on dress +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.41'>41</span>as fast as it came in. But that the servants of +government were infected with the vanities of +the government, they would prepare for the evil +days which were evidently coming on, instead of +letting their luxury and their poverty grow together.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“So is it ever, whether the vices of government +be austere or pleasant,” observed Dr. Reede. +“The people must needs look and speak sourly +when Oliver grew grave; and now, they have +suddenly turned, as it were, into a vast troop of +masqueraders, because the court is merry. But +there is a difference in the two examples which it +behoves discerning men to perceive. In respect +of religious gravity, all men stand on the same +ground; it is a matter between themselves and +their God. But the government has another responsibility, +in regard to its extravagance: it is +answerable to men; for government does not +earn the wealth it spends; and each act of waste +is an injury to those who have furnished the +means, and an insult to every man who toils hard +for scanty bread.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Government could not be expected to look too +closely into these matters, Edmund thought. All +governments were more or less extravagant; and +he supposed they always would be.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Because they live by the toil of others? If +so, there is a remedy in making the government +itself toil.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“I would fain see it,” cried Mrs. Reede. “I +would fain see the King unravelling his perplexed +accounts; and the Duke bestirring himself among +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.42'>42</span>the ships and in the army, instead of taking the +credit of what better men do; and the court ladies +ordering their houses discreetly, while their husbands +made ready to show what service they had +done the nation. Then, my dear, you would +preach to a modest, and sober, and thankful +people, who, with one heart, would be ready to +listen.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is but too far otherwise now,” replied Dr. +Reede. "Of my hearers, some harden their +hearts in unchristian contempt of all that is not +as sad as their own spirits; and others look to +see that the cloak hangs from the shoulder in a +comely fashion as they stand. At the same time, +there is more need of the word the more men’s +minds are divided. This is the age when virtue +is oppressed, and the selfish make mirth. Of +those that pray for the King’s Majesty, how +many have given him their children’s bread, and +mourn and pine, while the gay whom they feed +have no thought for their misery! Edmund himself +allows that the shipwrights go home without +their wages, while he who works scarce at all +disports himself with his bombazin suit and scarlet +ribbons. Can I preach to them as effectually +as if they were content, and he——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What?” inquired Edmund.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In truth, Edmund, I could less find in my +heart to admonish these defrauded men for stealing +bread from the navy-stores for their hungry +children, than you for drawing their envious eyes +upon you. The large money that pays your +small service, whose is it but theirs,—earned +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.43'>43</span>hardly, paid willingly to the King, to be spent in +periwigs and silk hose? Shall men who thus +injure and feel injury in their worldly labour, listen +with one heart and mind to the Sabbath word? +Too well I know that, from end to end of this +kingdom, there is one tumult of bad passions +which set the Scriptures at nought. The lion +devours the lamb; the innocent know too well the +sting of the asp; and as often as a fleece appears, +men spy for the wolf beneath it. What chance +hath the word when it falls upon ground so encumbered?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund pleaded that, though he had done little +yet to merit his public salary, he meant to do a +great deal. This very day, the King had appointed +some confidential person to confer with +him on an affair in which his exertions would be +required. Things had come to such a pass now +in the management of the army and navy, that +something must be done to satisfy the people; +and Edmund hoped, that if he put on the appearance +of a rising young man, he might soon prove +to be so, and gain honour in proportion to the +profit he was already taking by anticipation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It must be something very pressing that was +wanted of Edmund, if no day would serve but +that of this solemn fast. It did not occur to the +Reedes that it must be a day of ennui to Charles +and his court, at any rate, and that there would +be an economy of mirth in transacting at such a +time business which must be done.</p> + +<p class='c001'>There was a something in Edmund’s countenance +and gait as he went to worship this morning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.44'>44</span>which made his sister fear that, during the +service, he must be thinking more of the expected +interview at the palace than of her husband’s +eloquent exposition of how the sins of the government +were the sins of the nation, and how both +merited the chastisement which it was the object +of this day’s penitence to avert. The sermon was +a bold one; but the nation was growing bold +under a sense of injury, and of the inconsistency +of the government. The time was past when +plain speakers could be sent off to the wars, for +the purpose of being impoverished, made captive, +or slain. Dr. Reede knew, and bore in mind, +the fate of a certain ancestor of his, and returned +thanks in his heart for such an advance in the +recognition of social rights as allowed him to be +as honest as his forefathers, with greater impunity. +He resolved now to do a bolder thing than +he had ever yet meditated,—to take advantage of +Edmund’s going to the palace to endeavour to +obtain an interview with the King, and intercede +for the Presbyterian clergy, who must, in a few +days, vacate their livings, or violate their consciences, +unless Charles should be pleased to remember, +before it was too late, that he had passed +his royal word in their favour. Charles was not +difficult of access, particularly on a fast-day; the +experiment was worth trying.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The streets were dull and empty as the brothers +proceeded to the river-side to take boat for the +palace. There was a little more bustle by the +stairs whence they meant to embark, the watermen +having had abundance of time this day to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.45'>45</span>drink and quarrel. The contention for the present +God-send of passengers would have run high, +if Edmund had not known how to put on the +manner of a personage of great importance; a +manner which he sincerely thought himself entitled +to assume, it being a mighty pleasure, as +he declared to his companion, to feel himself a +greater man in the world than he could once +have expected for himself, or any of his friends +for him. He felt as if he was lord of the Thames, +while, with his arms folded in his cloak, and his +beaver nicely poised, he looked abroad, and saw +not another vessel in motion on the surface of +the broad river.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This solitude did not last very long. Dr. +Reede had not finished contemplating the distant +church of St. Paul’s, which Wren, the artist, had +been engaged to repair. He was speculating on +the probable effect of a cupola (a strange form +described, but not yet witnessed, in England); +he was wondering what induced Oliver to take +the choir for horse-barracks, when so many other +buildings in the neighbourhood might have served +the purpose better; he was inwardly congratulating +his accomplished young friend on his noble +task of restoring,—not only to beauty, that which +was dilapidated,—but to sanctity that which was +desecrated. Dr. Reede was thinking of these +things, rather than listening to the watermen’s +account of a singular new vessel, called a yacht, +which the Dutch East India Company had presented +to the King, when a barge was perceived +to be coming up the river with so much haste as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.46'>46</span>to excite Edmund’s attention and stop the boatman’s +description.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"It is Palmer, bringing news, I am sure,—what +mighty haste!" observed Edmund, turning +to order the boatmen to make for the barge. +"News from sea,—mighty good or bad, I am +certain. We will catch them on their way."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Palmer, the King’s messenger! He will not +tell his news to us, Edmund.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“He will, knowing me, and finding where I +am going.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Palmer did tell his news. His Majesty had +sustained a signal defeat abroad. The doubt was +where to find the King or the Duke, there being +a rumour that they were somewhere on the river. +Palmer had witnessed a sailing-match between +two royal boats, some way below Greenwich, but +he could not make out that any royal personages +were on board.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Here they are, if they be on the river!” +exclaimed Edmund, inquiring of the watermen +if the extraordinary vessel just coming in sight +was not the yacht they had described. It was, +and the King must be on board, as no one else +would dream of taking pleasure on the river this +day.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund managed so well to put himself in the +way of being observed while Palmer made his +inquiries, that both were summoned on board the +yacht. The clergyman looked so unlike anybody +that the lords and gentlemen within had commonly +to do with, that he was not allowed to remain +behind. They seemed to have some curiosity to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.47'>47</span>see whether a presbyterian parson could eat like +other men, for they pressed him to sit down to +table with them,—a table steaming with the good +meats which had been furnished from the kitchen-boat +which always followed in the rear of the +yacht. Dr. Reede simply observed that it was a +fast day; and could not be made to perceive that +being on the water and in high company absolved +him from the observances of the day. Every +body else seemed of a different opinion; for, not +content with the usual regale of fine music which +attended the royal excursions, the lords and +gentlemen present had made the fiddlers drunk, +and set them in that state to sing all the foul +songs with which their professional memories +could furnish them. Abundance of punch was +preparing, and there was some Canary of incomparable +goodness which had been carried to and +from the Indies. Two of the company were too +deeply interested in what they were about to care +for either music or Canary at the moment. +Charles and the Duke of Ormond were rattling +the dice-box, having staked 1000<i>l.</i> on the cast. +It was of some consequence to the King to win +it, as he had, since morning, lost 23,000<i>l.</i> in bets +with the Duke of York and others about the +sailing match which they had carried on while +the rest of the nation were at church, deprecating +God’s judgments.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Having lost his 1000<i>l.</i>, he turned gaily to the +strangers, as if expecting some new amusement +from them. He made a sign to Edmund (whom +he knew in virtue of his office), that he would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.48'>48</span>hold discourse with him presently in private, and +then asked Dr. Reede what the clergy had discovered +of the reasons for the heavy judgment +with which the kingdom was afflicted.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede believed the clergy were more +anxious to obtain God’s mercy than to account +for his judgments.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“You are deceived, friend. Our reverend +dean of Windsor has been preaching that it is our +supineness in leaving the heads of the regicides +on their shoulders that has brought these visitations +on our people. He discoursed largely of +the matter of the Gibeonites, and exhorted us to +quick vengeance.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede could not remember any text which +taught that wreaking vengeance on man was the +way to propitiate God. He could not suppose +that this disastrous defeat abroad would have been +averted by butchering the regicides in celebration +of the King’s marriage, as had been proposed.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The King had not yet had time to comprehend +the news of this defeat. On hearing of it, he +seemed in a transient state of consternation; +marvelled, as his subjects were wont to do, what +was to become of the kingdom at this rate; and +signified his wish to be left with the messenger, +the Duke of York alone remaining to help him +to collect all the particulars. The company +accordingly withdrew to curse the enemy, wonder +who was killed and who wounded, and straightway +amuse themselves, the ladies with the dice-box, +the gentlemen with betting on their play, +and all with the feats of a juggler of rare accomplishments, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.49'>49</span>who was at present under the +patronage of one of the King’s favourites.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When Palmer had told his story and was +dismissed, Edmund was called in, and, at his own +request, was attended by his brother-in-law,—the +discreet gentleman of excellent learning, who +might aid the project to be now discoursed of. +The King did, at length, look grave. He supposed +Edmund knew the purpose for which his +presence was required.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“To receive his Highness the Duke’s pleasure +respecting the navy accounts that are to be laid +before Parliament.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“That is my brother’s affair,” replied the +King. "I desire from you,—your parts having +been well commended to me,—some discreet +composure which shall bring our government into +less disfavour with our people than it hath been +of late."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund did not doubt that this could easily be +done.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"It must be done; for in our present straits +we cannot altogether so do without the people as +for our ease we could desire. But as for the +ease,—there is but little of it where the people +are so changeable. They have forgot the flatteries +with which they hailed us, some short while +since, and give us only murmurs instead. It is +much to be wished that they should be satisfied +in respect of their duty to us, without which we +cannot satisfy them in the carrying on of the +war."</p> + +<p class='c001'>The Duke of York thought that his Majesty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.50'>50</span>troubled himself needlessly about the way in +which supplies were to be obtained from the +people. Money must be had, and speedily, or +defeat would follow defeat; for never were the +army and navy in a more wretched condition than +now. But if his Majesty would only exert his +prerogative, and levy supplies for his occasions as +his ancestors had done, all might yet be retrieved +without the trouble of propitiating the nation. +The King persisted however in his design of +making his government popular by means of a +pamphlet which should flatter the people with the +notion that they kept their affairs in their own +hands. It was the shortest way to begin by +satisfying the people’s minds.</p> + +<p class='c001'>And how was this to be done? Dr. Reede +presumed to inquire. Charles, thoroughly discomposed +by the news he had just heard, in +addition to a variety of private perplexities, +declared that nothing could be easier than to set +forth a true account of the royal poverty. No +poor gentleman of all the train to whom he was +in debt could be more completely at his wit’s end +for money than he. His wardrobeman had this +morning lamented that the King had no handkerchiefs, +and only three bands to his neck; and +how to take up a yard of linen for his <a id='corr50.27'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='Majety’s'>Majesty’s</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_50.27'><ins class='correction'>Majesty’s</ins></a></span> +service was more than any one knew.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund glanced at his own periwig in the +opposite mirror, and observed that it would be +very easy to urge this plea, if such was his +Majesty’s pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Od’s fish! man, you would not tell this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.51'>51</span>beggarly tale in all its particulars! You would +not set the loyal housewives in London to offer +me their patronage of shirts and neckbands!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Besides,” said the Duke, “though it might +be very easy to tell the tale of our poverty, it +might not be so easy to make men believe it.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede here giving an involuntary sign of +assent, the King would know what was in his +mind. Dr. Reede, as usual, spoke his thoughts. +The people, being aware what sums had within a +few months fallen into the royal treasury, would +be slow to suppose that their king was in want +of necessary clothing.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“What! the present to the Queen from the +Lord Mayor and Aldermen? That was but a +paltry thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede could not let it be supposed that +any one expected the King to benefit by gifts to +his Queen.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Charles looked up hastily to see if this was +intended as a reproach, for he had indeed appropriated +every thing that he could lay his hands on +of what his dutiful subjects had offered to his +Queen, as a compliment on her marriage. The +clergyman looked innocent, and the King went +on,—</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And as for her portion,—twenty such portions +would not furnish forth one war, as the people +ought to know. And there is my sister’s portion +to the Prince of Orleans soon to be paid. If the +people did but take the view we would have them +take of our affairs at home and abroad, we should +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.52'>52</span>not have to borrow of France, and want courage +to tell our faithful subjects that we had done so."</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund would do his best to give them the +desired opinions. Dr. Reede thought it a pity +they could not be by the King’s side,—aye, now +on board this very boat, to understand and share +the King’s views, and thus justify the government. +As a burst of admiration at some of the juggler’s +tricks made itself heard in the cabin at the very +moment this was said, the King again looked up +to see whether satire was intended.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Edmund supposed that one object of his projected +pamphlet was to communicate gently the +fact of a secret loan of 200,000 crowns from +France, designed for the support of the war in +Portugal, but so immediately swallowed up at +home that it appeared to have answered no more +purpose than a loan of so many pebbles, while it +had subjected the nation to a degradation which +the people would not have voluntarily incurred. +This communication was indeed to be a part of +Edmund’s task; but there was a more important +one still to be made. It could not now long +remain a secret that Dunkirk was in the hands of +the French——</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Dunkirk taken by the French!” exclaimed +Dr. Reede, not crediting what he heard. “We +are lost indeed, if the French make aggressions +like this.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Patience, brother!” whispered Edmund. +“There is no aggression in the case. The matter +is arranged by mutual agreement.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.53'>53</span>Dr. Reede looked perplexed, till the Duke +carelessly told him that Dunkirk had been sold +to the French King. It was a pity the nation +must know the fact. They would not like it.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Like it! Dunkirk sold! Whose property was +Dunkirk?” asked Dr. Reede, reverting to the +time when Oliver’s acquisition of Dunkirk was +celebrated as a national triumph.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“We must conduct the bargains of the nation, +you know,” replied the Duke. “In old times, the +people desired no better managers of their affairs +than their kings.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“’Tis a marvel then that they troubled themselves +to have Parliaments. Pray God the people +may be content with what they shall receive for a +conquest which they prized! Some other goodly +town, I trust, is secured to us; or some profitable +fishing coast; or some fastness which shall give +us advantage over the enemy, and spare the blood +of our soldiers.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It were as well to have retained Dunkirk as +taken any of these in exchange,” said the King;—a +proposition which Dr. Reede was far from +disputing. “Our necessities required another +fashion of payment.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"In money!—and then the taxes will be somewhat +lightened. This will be a welcome relief to +the people, although their leave was not asked. +There is at least the good of a lifting up of a little +portion of their burdens."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Not so. We cannot at present spare our +subjects. This 400,000<i>l.</i> come from Dunkirk is +all too little for the occasions of our dignity. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.54'>54</span>Our house at Hampton Court is not yet suitably +arranged. The tapestries are such that the world +can show nothing nobler, yet the ceilings, however +finely fretted, are not yet gilt. The canal is +not perfected, and the Banqueting House in the +Paradise is yet bare.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The extraordinary wild fowl in St. James’s +Park did not fly over without cost,” observed the +Duke.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Some did. The melancholy water-fowl from +Astracan was bestowed by the Russian Ambassador; +and certain merchants who came for +justice brought us the cranes and the milk-white +raven. But the animals that it was needful to +put in to make the place answerable to its design,—the +antelopes, and the Guinea goats, and the +Arabian sheep, and others,—cost nearly their +weight of gold. Kings cannot make fair bargains."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“For aught but necessaries,” interposed the +divine.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Or for necessaries. Windsor is exceedingly +ragged and ruinous. It will occupy the cost of +Dunkirk to restore it——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“According to the taste of the ladies of the +court,” interrupted the Duke. “They will have +the gallery of horns furnished with beams of the +rarest elks and antelopes that there be in the +world. Then the hall and stairs must be bright +with furniture of arms, in festoons, trophy-like: +while the chambers have curious and effeminate +pictures, giving a contrast of softness to that +which presented only war and horror.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.55'>55</span>“Then there is the demolishing of the palace +at Greenwich, in order to <a id='corr55.2'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='building'>build</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_55.2'><ins class='correction'>build</ins></a></span> a new one. +Besides the cost of rearing, we are advised so to +make a cut as to let in the Thames like a square +bay, which will be chargeable.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And this is to be ordered by Parliament? +or are the people to be told that a foreign possession +of theirs is gone to pay for water-fowl and +effeminate pictures?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Then there is the army,” continued the King. +“I have daily news of a lack of hospitals, so that +our maimed soldiers die of the injuries of the air. +And this very defeat, with which the city will +presently be ringing, was caused by the failure +of ammunition. And not unknowingly; for this +young clerk had the audacity to forewarn us.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Better have sold the troops and their general +alive into the hands of the enemy, than send +them into the field without a sufficiency of +defence,” cried Dr. Reede.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“So his Majesty thinks,” observed the Duke; +“and has therefore done wisely in taking a goodly +sum from the Dutch to delay the sailing of the +fleet for the east till the season is too far gone for +action. Nay! is it not a benefit for the King to +have the money he so much needs, and for the +lives to be saved which must be otherwise lost +for want of the due ammunition?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede was too much affected at this gross +bartering away of the national honour to trust +himself to speak; Edmund observed that he +should insist, in his pamphlet, on the exceeding +expensiveness of war in these days, in comparison +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.56'>56</span>of the times when men went out, each with his +bow and arrow, or his battle-axe, and his provision +of food furnished at his own charge. +Since gunpowder had been used, and engines of +curious workmanship,—since war had become a +science, it had grown mightily expensive, and the +people must pay accordingly, as he should +speedily set forth.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Setting forth also how the people should +therefore be the more consulted, before a strife +is entered upon,” said the clergyman.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Nay,” said the Duke, “I am for making +the matter short and easy. An expensive army +we must have; and a troublesome Parliament to +boot is too much. I am for getting up the army +into an honourable condition, and letting down +the Parliament. His Majesty will be persuaded +thereto in time, when he has had another taste +of the discontents of his changeable people.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede imagined that such an innovation +might not be the last change, if the nation should +have more liking to be represented by a Parliament +than ruled by an army. But the Duke did +not conceal his contempt for the new fashion of +regarding the people and their representatives. +There was no telling what pass things might +come to when monarchs were reduced to shifts +to get money, and the people fancied that they +had a right to sit in judgment on the use that +was made of it. He seemed to forget that he +had had a father, and what had become of him, +while he set up as an example worthy of all imitation +the spirited old king, bluff Harry, that put +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.57'>57</span>out his hand and took what he pleased, and +amused himself with sending grumblers to seek +adventures north, south, east, or west. If the +King would take his advice, he would show the +nation an example of the first duty of a king,—to +protect his people from violence,—in such a +fashion as should leave the Parliament little to +say, even if allowed to meet. Let his Majesty +bestow all his paternal care on cherishing his +army.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is true,” said Dr. Reede, “that a ruler’s +first duty is to give security to his people; and +in the lowest state in which men herd together, +the danger is looked for from without; and the +people who at home gather food, each for himself, +go out to war, each with his own weapon. Their +ruler does no more than call them out, and point +the way, and lead them home. Afterwards, when +men are settled on lands, and made the property +of the rich and strong, they go out to war at the +charge of their lords, and the King has still +nothing to do but to command them. Every +man is or may be a warrior; and it is for those +who furnish forth his blood and sinews, his weapons +and his food, to decide about the conduct of the +war. But, at a later time, when men intermingle +and divide their labour at will, and the time of +slavery is over, every man is no longer a warrior, +but some fight for hire, while those who hire them +stay at their business at home.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Or at their pleasures,” observed the Duke, +glancing at his brother.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Under favour, no,” replied Dr. Reede. "It +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.58'>58</span>is not, I conceive, the King that hires the army +to do his pleasure, but the people who hire it for +their defence, the King having the conduct of the +enterprises. If the will of the nation be not +taken as to their defence,—if they should perchance +think they need no armed defence, and +lose their passion for conquest, whence must +come the hire of their servants,—the soldiery?"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“They must help themselves with it,” replied +the Duke, carelessly.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And if they find a giant at every man’s door,—a +lion in the path to every one’s field?" said +the divine.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Thy learning hath perplexed thee, man. +These are not the days of enchantment, of wild +beasts, and overtopping men.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Pardon me; there are no days when men +may not be metamorphosed, if the evil influence +be but strong enough. There are no days when +a man’s household gods will not make a giant of +him for the defence of their shrine. There are +no days when there are not such roarings in the +path of violence as to sink the heart of the spoiler +within him.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Let but the art of war improve like other +arts,” said the Duke, “and our cannon will easily +out-roar all your lions, and beat down the giants +you speak of.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Rather the reverse, I conceive,” said the +plain-spoken clergyman. “The expense of improved +war is aggravated, not only in the outfit, +but in the destruction occasioned. The soldier +is a destructive labourer, and, as such, will not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.59'>59</span>be overlong tolerated by an impoverished nation, +whose consent to strife is the more necessary the +more chargeable such strife becomes to them. +Furthermore, men even now look upon blood as +something more precious than water, and upon +human souls as somewhat of a higher nature than +the fiery bubbles that our newly-wise chemists +send up into the ether, to wander whither no eye +can follow them. Our cannon now knock down +a file where before a battle-axe could cleave but a +single skull. Men begin already to tremble over +their child’s play of human life; and if the day +comes when some mighty engine shall be prepared +to blow to atoms half an army, there may +be found a multitude of stout hearts to face it; +but where is he who will be brave enough to fire +the touch-hole, even for the sure glory of being +God’s arch enemy?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Is this brother of thine seeking a patent for +some new device of war-engines?” inquired Charles +of the divine. “Methinks your discourse seems +like a preface to such a proposal. Would it were +so! for patents aid the exchequer.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Would it were so!” said the Duke, “for a +king might follow his own will with such an +engine in his hand.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Would it were so!” said Dr. Reede, “for +then would the last days of war be come, and +Satan would find much of his occupation gone. +Edmund, if thou wilt invent such an engine as +may mow down a host at a blow, I will promise +thee a triumph on that battle-field, and the intercession +of every church in Christendom. Such +a deed shall one day be done. War shall one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.60'>60</span>day be ended; but not by you, Edmund. Men +must enact the wild beast yet a few centuries +longer, to furnish forth a barbarous show to their +rulers, till men shall call instead for a long age +of fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Meantime,” said Edmund, “they call impertinently +for certain accounts of the charges +of our wars which his Majesty is over gracious in +permitting them to demand.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Do they think so?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“They cannot but see,” said the Duke, “by +the way his Majesty gave his speech to the Parliament, +that he desires no meddling from them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And how did I speak?” asked the King. +“Did I not assure the Commons that I would +not have asked for their subsidies if I had not had +need; and that through no extravagance of my +own, but the disorder of the times? And is not +that much to say when I am daily told by my +gentlemen of the palace, and others who know +better still, that my will is above all privilege of +Parliament or city, and that I have no need to +account to any at all? How did I speak?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"Only as if your wits were with your queen, +or some other lady, while the words of your +speech lay under your eye. Some words your +Commons must needs remember, from the many +times they were said over; but further——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Pshaw!” cried the King, vexed at the description +he had himself asked for. “This learned +divine knows not what our Parliament is made +of. There are but two seamen and about twenty +merchants, and the rest have no scruple in coming +drunk to the house, and making a mockery +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.61'>61</span>of the country people when they are sober. How +matters it how I give my speech to them?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“They are indeed not the people,” observed +Reede; "and I forewarn your Majesty that their +consent is not the consent of the people; and +that however they may clap the hands at your +Majesty’s enterprises and private sales, the people +will not be the less employed in looking back +upon Oliver——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“And forward to me?” inquired the Duke, +laughing.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"And forward to the time when the proud +father shall not be liable to see his only son return +barefoot and tattered from a war where he +has spilled his blood; or a daughter made the +victim, first of violence, and then of mockery, +through the example of the King’s court; and +no justice to be had but by him who brings the +heaviest bribe:—forward to the time when drunken +cavaliers shall be thought unfitting representatives +of a hungering people; and when the money +which is raised by the toils of the nation shall be +spent for the benefit of the nation; when men +shall inquire how Rome fell, and why France is +falling; and shall find that decay ensues when +that which is a trust is still pertinaciously used +as prerogative, and when the profusion in high +places is answerable to the destitution below!"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Nay; I am sure there is destitution in high +places,” cried the King, “and luxury in the +lower. I see not a few ladies outshining my +Queen in gallantry of jewels; and if you like to +look in at certain low houses that I could tell you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.62'>62</span>of, you will see what vast heaps of gold are squandered +in deep and most prodigious gaming.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“True; and therein is found the excuse of the +court; that whenever the nation is over-given to +luxury, the court is prodigious in its extravagance.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Hold, man!” cried the King. “Wouldst +thou be pilloried for a libel?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Such is too common a sight to draw due +regard,” coolly replied the divine. “Libels are +in some sort the primers of the ignorant multitude, +scornfully despised for their ignorance. +There are not means wherewith to give the +people letters in an orderly way; so that they gape +after libels first, and then they gape to see them +burned by the hangman; and learn one sort of +hardness by flinging stones at a pilloried wretch, +and another sort of hardness by watching the +faces of traitors who pray confidently on the scaffold, +and look cheerfully about them on the hangman’s +hellish instruments; and all this hardness, +which may chance to peril your Majesty, is not +always mollified by such soft things as they may +witness at the theatres which profanely give and +take from the licentious times. If the people +would become wise, such is the instruction that +awaits them.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Methinks you will provoke us to let the people +see how cheerfully you would look on certain +things that honest gazers round a scaffold shrink +from beholding. It were better for you to pray +for me from your pulpit, like a true subject of +Christ and your King.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.63'>63</span>“Hitherto I have done so; but it pleases your +Majesty that from my pulpit I should pray no +longer. Alas!” cried he, casting a glance through +the window as he perceived that the vessel drew +to land, “alas! what a raging fire! And +another! And a third!”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“The bonfires for the victory,” quietly observed +Edmund.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Dr. Reede was forbidden to throw any doubts +abroad on the English having gained a splendid +victory. The King had ordered these bonfires +at the close of the fast day. They were lighted, +it appeared, somewhat prematurely, as the sun +yet glittered along the Thames; but this only +showed the impatient joy of the people. The +church bells were evidently preparing to ring +merry peals as soon as the last hour of humiliation +should have expired. The King’s word had +gone forth. It suited his purposes to gain a victory +just now; and a victory he was determined +it should be, to the last moment. When the +people should discover the cheat, the favours occasioned +by it would be past recall. They could +only do what they had done before,—go home +and be angry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>This was all that now remained for Dr. Reede, +the King’s landing being waited for by a throng +of persons whose converse had little affinity with +wise counsel. Certain courtiers, deplorably <i>ennuyés</i> +by the king’s absence, sauntered about the +gardens, and looked abroad upon the river, in +hopes of his approach. An importation of French +coxcombs from Dunkirk, in fantastical habits, was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.64'>64</span>already here to offend the eyes of the insulted +English people. It was not till Edmund (who +was not dismissed with Dr. Reede) began to exhibit +at home the confidence with which he had +been treated, that Dr. Reede and his lady became +aware how much these accomplished cadets could +teach Charles on the part of their own extravagant +master. Louis the Fourteenth knew of +more ways of raising money than even Charles. +He had taken to creating offices for sale, for +which the court ladies amused themselves in +making names. The pastime of divining their object +and utility was left to the people who paid for +them. They read, or were told,—and it made a +very funny riddle,—that the inspector of fresh-butter +had kissed hands on his appointment; +that the ordainer of faggots had had the honour +of dining with his Majesty; and that some mighty +and wealthy personage had been honoured with +the office of licenser of barber-wig-makers.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The example of Louis in this and other matters +was too good not to be followed by one in circumstances +of equal necessity. Edmund was not +by any means to delay the “discreet composure” +by which the minds of the people were to be +propitiated and satisfied. He was to laud to +the utmost the Duke’s conduct of naval affairs,—(whose +credit rested on the ability of his +complaisant Clerk of the Acts.) He was to +falsify the navy accounts as much as could be +ventured, exaggerating the expenses and extenuating +the receipts, while he made the very best of +the results. He was to take for granted the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.65'>65</span>willingness of a grateful people to support the +dignity of the sovereign, while he insinuated +threats of the establishment of a civil list,—(a +thing at that time unknown.) All this was to be +done not the less for room being required for +eloquence about the sale of Dunkirk, and the +loan from France, and the bribe from Holland;—monuments +of kingly wisdom all, and of +paternal solicitude to spare the pockets of the +people. All this was to be done not the less for +the bright idea which had occurred to some +courtier’s mind that the making of a few new +ambassadors might bring money to his Majesty’s +hands. There was more than one man about the +court who was very willing to accept of the dignity +of such an office, and to pay to the power that +appointed him a certain fair proportion of the +salary which the people must provide. One +gentleman was accordingly sent to Spain, to +amuse himself in reading Calderon, and another +to some eastern place where he might sit on +cushions, and smoke at the expense of the people +of England, and to the private profit of their +monarch. Amidst all these clever arrangements, +nothing was done for the <i>security</i> or the <i>advancement</i> +of the community. No new measures +of <i>defence</i>; no better administration of <i>justice</i>; +no advantageous <i>public works</i>, no apparatus of +<i>education</i>, were originated; and, as for the +<i>dignity of the sovereign</i>, that was a matter past +hope. But by means of the treacherous sale of +the nation’s property and of public offices, by +bribes, by falsification of the public accounts, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.66'>66</span>breaches of royal credit were for the present +stopped, and the day of reckoning deferred. If +the Duke of York could have foreseen from whom +and at what time this reckoning would be demanded, +he might have been less acute in his +suggestions, and less bold in his advice; and +both he and the King might have employed +to less infamous purpose this day of solemn fast +and deprecation of God’s judgments. But, however +true might be Dr. Reede’s doctrine that the +sins of government are the sins of the nation, it +happened in this case, as in a multitude of others, +that the accessaries to the crime offered the +atonement, while the principals made sport of +both crime and atonement.</p> + +<p class='c001'>The false report about the late engagement +had gained ground sufficiently to answer the +temporary purposes of those who spread it. As +Dr. Reede took his way homewards, bonfires +gleamed reflected in the waters of the river, and +exhibited to advantage the picturesque fronts of +the wooden houses in the narrow streets, and +sent trains of sparks up into the darkening sky, +and illuminated the steeples that in a few more +seasons were to fall into the surging mass of a +more awful conflagration. On reaching the +comfortable dwelling which he expected to be +soon compelled to quit, he gave himself up, first +to humiliation on account of the guilt against +which he had in vain remonstrated, and then to +addressing to the King a strong written appeal +on behalf of the conscientious presbyterian clergy, +who had, on the faith of the royal word, believed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.67'>67</span>themselves safe from such temptations to violate +their consciences as they were now suffering +under.</p> + +<p class='c001'>On a certain Saturday of the same month +might be seen the most magnificent triumph that +ever floated on the Thames. It far exceeded the +Venetian pageantry on occasion of espousing the +Adriatic. The city of London was entertaining +the King and Queen; and the King was not at +all sorry that the people were at the same time +entertained, while he was making up his mind +whether, on dissolving the Parliament, he should +call another which would obligingly give him the +dean and chapter lands, or whether he should +let it be seen, according to the opinion of his +brother, that there was no need of any more +parliaments. As he sat beside his Queen, in an +antique-shaped vessel, under a canopy of cloth of +gold, supported by Corinthian pillars, wreathed +with flowers, festoons, and garlands, he meditated +on the comfort that would accrue, on the one +hand, from all his debts being paid out of these +church lands, and, on the other, from such an +entire freedom from responsibility as he should +enjoy when there should be no more speeches to +make to his Commons, and no more remonstrances +to hear from them, grounded on dismal tales of +the distresses of his people which he had rather +not hear. The thrones and triumphal arches +might do for the corporation of London to amuse +itself with, and for the little boys and girls on +either side of the river to stare at and admire: +but it was in somewhat too infantine a taste to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.68'>68</span>please the majority of the gazers otherwise than +as a revival of antique amusements. The most +idly luxurious about the court preferred entertainments +which had a little more meaning in them,—dramatic +spectacles, pictures, music, and fine +buildings and gardens. War is also a favourite +excitement in the middle age of refinement; and +the best part of this day’s entertainments, next +to the music, was the peals of ordnance both from +the vessels and the shore, which might prettily +remind the gallants, amidst their mirth and their +soft flirtations, of the cannonading that was going +on over the sea. Within a small section of the +city of London, many degrees of mirth might be +found this day.</p> + +<p class='c001'>In the royal barge, the Queen cast her “languishing +and excellent eyes” over the pageant +before her, and returned the salutations of the +citizens who made obeisances in passing, and +now and then exchanged a few words with her +Portuguese maids of honour, the King being too +thoughtful to attend to her;—altogether not very +merry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>In the barge immediately following, certain of +the King’s favourites made sport of the Queen’s +foretop,—turned aside very strangely,—of the +monstrous fardingales and olivada complexions +and unagreeable voices of her Portuguese ladies,—and +of the old knight, her friend, whose bald pate +was covered by a huge lock of hair, bound on by +a thread, very oddly. The King’s gravity also +made a good joke; and there was an amusing +incident of a boat being upset, which furnished +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.69'>69</span>laughter for a full half hour. A family of Presbyterians, +turned out of a living because the King +had broken his word, were removing their chattels +to some poor place on the other side of the river, +and had unawares got their boat entangled in the +procession, and were run down by a royal barge. +It was truly laughable to see first the divine, and +then his pretty daughters, with their dripping long +hair, picked up from the water, while all their +little wealth went to the bottom: and yet more +so to witness how, when the King, of his bounty, +threw gold to the sufferers, the clergyman tossed +it back so vehemently that it would have struck +the Duke of York on the temple, if he had not +dexterously contrived to receive it on the crown +of his periwig. It was a charming adventure to +the King’s favourites;—very merry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>In the mansions by the river side, certain +gentlemen from the country were settling themselves, +in preparation for taking office under the +government. They and their fathers had been +out of habits of business for fourscore years, and +were wholly incapable of it, and knew themselves +to be so; the best having given themselves to +rural employments, and others to debauchery; +but, as all men were now declared incapable of +employment who had served against the King, +and as these cavaliers knew that their chief business +was to humour his Majesty, they made +themselves easy about their responsibilities, looked +after their tapestries, plate, and pictures, talked +of the toils and cares of office, and were—very +merry.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.70'>70</span>In the narrow streets in their neighbourhood +might be hourly seen certain of the King’s +soldiers, belted and armed, cursing, swearing, and +stealing; running into public-houses to drink, +and into private ones to carry off whatever they +had a mind to; leaving the injured proprietors +disposed to reflect upon Oliver, and to commend +him,—what brave things he did, and how safe a +place a man’s own house was in his time, and +how he made the neighbour princes fear him; +while now, a prince that came in with all the +love, and prayers, and good-liking of his people, +who had given greater signs of loyalty and willingness +to serve him with their estates than ever +was done by any people, could get nothing but +contempt abroad, and discontent at home; and +had indeed lost all so soon, that it was a miracle +how any one could devise to lose so much in so +little time. These housekeepers, made sage by +circumstance, looked and spoke with something +very little like mirth. Those who had given occasion +to such thoughts were, meantime,—very +merry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was not to these merry men, wise people +thought, that the King must look for help in the +day of war, but to the soldiers of the republican +army, who had been declared by act of parliament +for evermore incapable of serving the kingdom. +But where were these men to be found, +if wanted? Not one could be met with begging +in the streets to tell how his comrades might be +reached. One captain in the old parliament +army was turned shoemaker, and another a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.71'>71</span>baker. This lieutenant was now a haberdasher; +that a brewer. Of the common soldiers, some +were porters, and others mechanics in their +aprons, and husbandmen in their frocks, and +all as quiet and laborious as if war had never +been their occupation. The spirits of these men +had been trained in contentment with God’s +providences; and though, as they sat at the loom +and the last, they had many discontented thoughts +of man’s providences, it was clear to observers +among the King’s own servants that he was a +thousand times safer from any evil meant by +them than from his own unsatisfied and insatiable +cavaliers. While the staid artizans who had +served under Cromwell looked out upon the river +as the procession passed, they dropped a few +words in their families about the snares of the +Evil One, and were—not very merry.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Within hearing of the ordnance in which the +young gallants of the court delighted was an +hospital, meagrely supplied with the comforts +which its inmates required, where languished, in +a crowded space, many of the soldiers and sailors +who had been set up to be fired at while it was +known in high quarters that there was such a +deficiency of ammunition as must deprive the +poor fellows of the power of effectual self-defence. +This fact had become known, and it had sunk +deep into the souls of the brave fellows who, +maimed, feverish, and heart-sore,—in pain for +want of the proper means of cure, and half suffocated +from the number of their fellow-sufferers, +listened with many a low-breathed curse to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.72'>72</span>peals of ordnance that shook their crazy place of +refuge, and forswore mirth and allegiance together.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Within hearing of the shouts and of a faint +occasional breath of music from the royal band, +were certain of the two thousand clergy, who +were to resign their livings the next morning, +and whose families were taking advantage of the +neighbourhood being deserted for the day to remove +their furniture, and betake themselves to +whatever place they might have found wherein +the righteous could lay his head. Dr. Reede was +one of these. He had been toiling all day with +his wife, demolishing the <i>tout ensemble</i> of comfort +which had been formed under her management. +He was now, while she was engaged with +her infants, sitting alone in his study for the last +time. He was doing nothing; for his business +in this place was closed. He let his eye be +amused by the quick flickering in the breeze of +the short, shining grass of his little court, which +stretched up to his window. The dark formal +shrubs, planted within the paling by his own +hand, seemed to nod to him as the wind passed +over their heads. The summer flowers in the +lozenge-shaped parterres which answered to each +other, danced and kissed unblamed beneath the +Rev. Doctor’s gaze. All looked as if Nature’s +heart were merry, however sad might be those of +her thoughtful children. The Doctor stepped +out upon the grass. There was yet more for +him to do there. He had, with his own hands, +mowed the plat, and clipped the borders; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.73'>73</span>and the little hands of the elder of his two children +had helped to pluck out the very few weeds +that had sprung up. But the weather had been +warm and dry, and, in order to leave the place +in the beauty desired by its departing tenant, it +was necessary to water the flower-court. It was +not a very inspiriting thing to glance at doors +and windows standing wide, displaying the nakedness +of an empty dwelling within: so the Doctor +hastened to the well to fill his bucket. Mrs. +Reede heard the jingle of the chain, and showed +herself at an upper window, while the child that +could walk made her way down stairs with all +speed to help papa, and wonder at her own round +little face in the full bucket. Mrs. Reede was +glad that her husband had turned out of his +study, though she could not bring herself to +sympathize in his anxiety to leave all in a state +of the greatest practicable beauty. If a gale had +torn up the shrubs, or the hot sun of this summer +day had parched the grass and withered the +flowers, she did not think she could have been +sorry. But it was very well that her husband +had left his study open for the further operations +necessary there. This room had remained the +very last in its entireness. The time was now +come when she must have asked her husband to +quit his chair and desk, and let his books be dislodged. +She would make haste to complete the +work of spoliation, and she hoped he would make +a long task of watering the flower-court.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He was not likely to do that when he had +once perceived that she and one of her damsels +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.74'>74</span>were lifting heavy loads of books, while another +was taking care of the baby. He hastened to +give their final draught to his favourite carnations, +placed a chair for Esther on the grass just outside +the window, where she might sit with the infant, +and, while resting herself, talk to him as he +finished her laborious task.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede did not remember to have ever +started so incessantly at the sound of guns; +and the air-music of the window-harp that she +had seen in the pavilions of great men’s gardens +had never come so mournfully over her spirit as +the snatches of harmony that the wind now +brought from the river to make her infant hold +up his tiny finger while his sister said “hark!” +She was, for once, nervous. It might be seen in +her flushed face and her startled movements; and +the poor baby felt it in the absence of the usual +ease with which he was held and played with. A +sharp sudden cry from him called the attention of +the doctor from his task. In a moment, mamma’s +grief was more tumultuous than the infant’s.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“O, my child! my child! I have hurt my +child! my own little baby!” cried she, weeping +bitterly, and of course redoubling the panic of the +little one.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“My dear love,” said her husband, trying to +prove to her that the baby had only been frightened +by a jerk; “my dear love, you alarm yourself +much more than the child. See!” and he +held up in the evening sunlight the brass plate +on which his study lamp stood. Its glittering +at once arrested the infant’s terrors: but not so +soon could the tears of the mother be stopped.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.75'>75</span>“My love, there must be some deeper cause +than this trifling accident,” said he, sitting down +on the low window sill beside her chair. “Is it +that you have pent up your grief all day, and that +it will have way?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede had a long train of sad thoughts +to disclose, in the intervals of her efforts to compose +herself. The children, she said, amused +themselves as if nothing was the matter; while +who could tell what they might think hereafter of +being thus removed from a fair and honourable +home, and carried where—O, there was no +telling what lot might await them! If everybody +had thought the sacrifice a right one, she +could have gone through it without any regret: +but some of her husband’s oldest friends thought +him wrong——</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Towards God, or towards you, my love?”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"O, towards these children, I suppose. They +dare not think that you would do anything wrong +towards me. I am sure I only think of you +first, and then of the children. How you have +preached here, with the souls of your people in +your hand, to mould them as you would! and +now, you must go where your gift and your office +will be nothing; and you will be only like any +other man. And, as for the children, we do not +know——"</p> + +<p class='c001'>“When the bird leads forth her brood from +their warm nest, because springes are set round +about them, does she know what shall befall +them? There may be hawks abroad, or a +sharp wind that may be too strong for their scarce-plumed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.76'>76</span>wings. Or they may gather boldness +from their early flight, and wave in the sunshine +on a high bough, and pour out there a grateful +morn and even song from season to season. The +parent bird knows not: but she must needs take +them from among the springes, however soft may +be the nest, and cool the mossy tree. We know +more than this parent bird; even that no sparrow +falleth unheeded to the ground.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mrs. Reede’s tears began to flow again as another +faint breath of music reached her.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Is it that you will be more composed when +the sounds of mirth, to us unseasonable, have +passed away?” asked Dr. Reede, smiling.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It does seem hard that our spoilers should +be making merry while we are going forth we +know not whither,” said the wife.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“How would it advantage the mother bird +that the fowlers should lie close while she plumes +her pinions to be gone? Will she stoop in her +flight for all their mirth? As for us, music may +be to us a rare treat henceforth. Let our ears +be pleased with it, whencesoever it may come.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>And he made the children hearken, till they +clapped their little hands, and their mother once +more smiled. Her husband then said to her,</p> + +<p class='c001'>“If this mirth be ungodly, there is no reason +why we should be more scandalized at it than +on any other day, only because we ourselves are +not merry. If it be innocent, we should thank +God that others are happier than ourselves. Yet +I am not otherwise than happy in the inward +spirit. I shall never repent this day.”</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.77'>77</span>"They say you will, when——But it is not as +if we stood alone. It is said that there will be a +large number of the separated."</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Thank God! not for the companionship to +ourselves, so much as for the profit to his righteousness. +It will be much to meet here and +there eyes that tell back one’s own story, and to +clasp hands that are undefiled by the world’s +lucre. But it is more to know that God’s truth +is so hymned by some thousand tongues this +night, that the echo shall last till weak voices like +ours shall be wanted no more.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Let us go,” cried Mrs. Reede, dispersing her +last tears, and lifting up one child while the +other remained in her husband’s arms. He took +advantage of her season of strength, and resolved +to convey her at once to the humble lodging +which was to be their present abode, and to +return himself to see that all was done. He detained +her only to join him in a brief thanksgiving +for the happiness they had enjoyed there since +their marriage day, and to beseech a blessing on +him who was to succeed to the dwelling and to +the pastoral office. Courageous as was Mrs. +Reede’s present mood, she was still at the mercy +of trifles. The little girl’s kitten would not bear +them company. It had been removed twice, and +had returned, and now was not to be found. It +had hidden itself in some corner whence it would +come out when they were gone; and the child +departed in a very unchristian state of distress. +Her mamma found that both she and her child had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.78'>78</span>yet to learn Dr. Reede’s method of not fretting +because of evil-doers.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Though he could not trouble himself with personal +resentments, no man could more strenuously +rebuke and expose guilt,—especially guilt +in high places, which is so much worse than other +guilt, in as far as it desolates a wider region of +human happiness. In his farewell discourse, +the next day, he urged some considerations on +behalf of society far more eagerly than he ever +asked anything for himself.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“It is no new thing,” said he, "for men to be +required to set their hand to that which they believe +not, or to affirm that they believe that which they +understand no more in the expression than in the +essence. It is no new thing for a mistake to be +made as to such protestation, so that if a man say +he believes that a sown field will bear corn, +though he knows not the manner of its sprouting +nor the order of its ripening, he shall be also +required to believe a proposition in an unknown +tongue, whereof he knows not even what it is +that should be proposed. It is no new thing +that men should start at such a requisition, as a +sound-witted man would start from the shows +and babble of the magician; or as a modest wise +man would shrink from appointing the way to a +wandering comet, lest he should unawares bring +the orderly heavens to a mighty wreck. It is no +new thing for the searchers of God’s ways to +respect his everlasting laws more than man’s presumptuous +bidding: or for Him whom they serve +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.79'>79</span>so to change the face of things to them as to make +his extremest yoke easy, and his heaviest burden +light:—to cast a shade over what must be foregone,—whether +it be life itself, or only the goodly +things in which maybe too much of our life hath +been found,—or to beam a light from his own +highest heaven on the wilderness-path, which +may seem horrid to those who are not to tread it, +but passable enough to such as must needs take +this way to their everlasting home. These +things being not new, are a sign to us recusants +of this day not to be in anywise astonished or +dismayed, and also not to allow a dwelling upon +the part we have taken, as if it were any mighty +merit to trust to God’s providence, which waits +only to be trusted, or required any marvellous +faith to commit ourselves to Christ’s word, which, +if it be Christ’s, must stand when the heavens +themselves shall be dissolved. It behoves us rather +to look to things less clear than these, and more +important than the putting forth of a few of Christ’s +meanest shepherds from their folds;—for whom +the chief Shepherd may perhaps find other occasions; +and, if not, they may be well content to +lie down among the sheep, remembering that he +once had not where to lay his head. The true +occasion of this day is not to break one another’s +hearts with griefs and tears, (which may but puff +out or quench the acceptable fire of the altar;) +but so to fan the new-kindled flame as that it may +seize and consume whatsoever of foul and desecrating +shows most hideous in its light. Is it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.80'>80</span>not plain that powers whose use is ushered in +with prayers, and alternated with the response of +God’s most holy name,—the powers of government,—are +used to ensnare those who open their +doors to whatsoever cometh in that name? It +is well that governments should be thus sanctified +to the ears and eyes of the governed; for, if +there be a commission more certainly given +straight from the hand of God than another it is +that of a ruler of men. Who but he opens the +eyes of the blind, and unstops the ears of the +deaf, and sets the lame on his feet, and strengthens +together the drooping heart and the feeble +knees,—by setting before the one the radiant +frame of society in all its fitness, and waking up +for another the voices of human companionship, +and compacting the powers of the weak with +those of the strong, and cheering all by warding +off injury from without, and making restraint +easy where perchance it may gall any of those +who are within? Sacred is the power of the +ruler as a trust; but if it be used as a property, +where is its sanctity? If the steward puts out +the eyes that follow him too closely, and ties the +tongue that importunes, and breaks the limbs of +the strong man in sport, so as to leave him an +impotent beggar in the porch of the mansion,—do +we not know from the Scripture what shall be +the fate of that steward? As it is with a single +ruler, so shall it be with a company of rulers,—with +a government which regards the people only +as the something on which itself must stand, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.81'>81</span>which takes bread from the children to give it to +dogs; which sells God’s gifts to them that are +without, at the risk of such utter blindness that +they shall weary themselves to find the door out +of their perplexities and terrors. What governments +there be that commit the double sin of +lording it over consciences, (which are God’s +heritage,) and of ruling for their own low pleasures +instead of the right living and moving of +the people, judge ye. If there be any which mismanage +its defence, and deny or pervert justice, +and refuse public works, and make the church a +scandal, and the court a spectacle for angels to weep +over and devils to resort to, and, instead of speeding +the people’s freedom with the wings of knowledge, +shut them into the little cells of ancient +men’s wits, it is time that such should know why +God hath made them stewards, and should be +alarmed for the coming of their Master. It is +not for the men and maid-servants to wrest his +staff from his hands, or to refuse his reasonable +bidding, or to forsake, the one his plough, and +the other his mill, and the maidens to spread the +table: but it is for any one to give loud warning +that the Master of the house will surely demand +an account of the welfare of his servants. +Such a warning do I give; and such is the +warning spoken by the many mourners of this day, +who, because they honour the kingly office as +the holiest place of the fair temple of society, +and kingly agents as the appointed priesthood, +can the less bear to see the nation outraged as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.82'>82</span>if there were no avenging angel of Jehovah +flying abroad; and comfortless in their miseries, +as if Jehovah himself were not in the midst of +them."</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was well that Dr. Reede felt that he could +bear the pillory. He was pilloried.</p> + +<hr class='c011'> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_2.83'>83</span> + <h3 id='ch2.3' class='c015'>THIRD AGE.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>History is silent as to the methods by which +men were enabled to endure the tedium of journeys +by the heavy coaches of the olden time. +The absence of all notion of travelling faster +might, indeed, be no inconsiderable aid,—an aid +of which travellers are at present, for the most +part, deprived; since the mail-coach passenger, +the envy of the poor tenant of the carrier’s cart, +feels envy, in his turn, of the privileged beings +who shoot along the northern rail-road; while +they, perhaps, are sighing for the time when they +shall be able to breakfast at one extremity of the +kingdom, and dine at the other. When once the +idea of not going fast enough enters a traveller’s +mind, <i>ennui</i> is pretty sure to follow; and it may +be to this circumstance that the patience of our +forefathers, under their long incarceration on the +road, was owing—if patience they had. Now, a +traveller who is too much used to journeying to +be amused, as a child is, by the mere process of +travelling, is dismayed alike if there be a full +number of passengers, and if there be none but +himself. In the first case, there is danger of +delay from the variety of deposits of persons and +goods; and in the second, there is an equal +danger of delay from the coachman having all +his own way, and the certainty, besides, of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.84'>84</span>absence of all opportunity of shaking off the +dulness of his own society.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid, a sociable young barrister, who had +never found himself at a loss on a journey, was +left desolate one day last summer when he least +expected it. He had taken his wife and child +down to the south, in order to establish them by +the sea-side for a few weeks; and he was now +travelling up to town by the stage-coach, in very +amusing company, as he thought, for the first +stage, but presently in solitude. Supposing that +his companions were going all the way, he took +his time about making the most of them, and +lost the opportunity. There was a sensible +farmer, who pointed right and left to the sheep +on the downs—green downs—retiring in long +sweeps from the road; and he had much to relate +of the methods of cultivation which had been +pursued here, there, and everywhere,—with the +Barn Field, and Rick Mead, and Pond-side Field, +and Brook Hollow, and many other pretty places +that he indicated. He had also stores of information +on the farmer’s favourite subject of complaint—the +state of the poor. He could give +the history of all the well-meant attempts of my +lord this, and my lady that, and colonel the +other, to make employment, and institute prizes +of almshouses, and induce their neighbours to +lay out more on patches of land than less helpless +folks would think it worth while to bestow. +Meantime, a smart young lady in the opposite +corner was telling her widowed chaperon why +she could not abide the country, and would not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.85'>85</span>be tempted to leave dear London any more,—namely, +that the country was chalky, and whitened +the hems of all her petticoats. The widow, +in return, assured the unbelieving girl that the +country was not chalky all over the world, and +that she had actually seen, with her own eyes, +the junction of a white, a red, and a black road,—very +convenient, as one might choose one’s +walk by the colour of one’s gown. The widow +at the same time let fall her wish to have the +charge—merely for the sake of pleasant occupation—of +the household of a widower, to whose +daughters she could teach everything desirable; +especially if they were intended to look after +dairy and poultry-yard, and such things.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“Thank’ee, ma’am,” said the farmer, as she +looked full at him; “my daughters are some of +them grown up; and they have got on without +much teaching since their mother died.”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid promised himself to gain more information +about the widow’s estimate of her own +capabilities; but she and her charge were not +yet going to “dear London.” They got out at +the first country town, just after the farmer had +thrust himself half out of the window to stop +the coach, flung himself on the stout horse that +was waiting for him at the entrance of a green +lane, and trotted off, with a prodigious exertion +of knee, elbow, and coat-flap.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Mr. Reid had soon done thinking of the widow, +and of the damsel who had displayed so intimate +a knowledge of rural life. Pauperism lasted +longer; but this was only another version of a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.86'>86</span>dismal story with which he was already too well +acquainted. He was glad to think of something +else. He found that he got most sun by riding +backward, and most wind by riding forward, and +made his election in favour of the latter. He +discovered, after a momentary doubt, that his +umbrella was safe, and that there was no occasion +to trouble his knees any longer with his +great-coat. He perceived that the coach had +been new-lined, and he thought the lace suited +the lining uncommonly well. He wondered whether +the people would be as confoundedly long in +changing horses at every stage as they had been +at the first. It would be very provoking to arrive +in town too late for dinner at G——’s. Ah! the +women by the road-side found it a fine day for +drying the linen they had washed. How it blew +about, flapping, with a noise like mill-sails; big-sleeved +pinafores and dancing stockings! This +was a pretty country to live in: the gentlemen’s +houses were sufficiently sheltered, and the cottages +had neat orchards behind them; and one +would think pains had been taken with the green +lanes—just in the medium as they were between +rankness and bareness. What an advantage +roads among little hills have in the clear stream +under the hedge,—a stream like this, dimpling +and oozing, now over pebbles, and now among +weeds! That hedge would make a delicious foreground +for a picture,—the earth being washed +away from the twisted roots, and they covered +with brown moss, with still a cowslip here and +there nodding to itself in the water as the wind +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.87'>87</span>passed by. By the way, that bit of foreground +might be kept in mind for his next paper for the +“New Monthly.” It would be easy to give his +subject a turn that would allow that hedge and +its cowslip to be brought in. What had not +Victor Hugo made of a yellow flower, in a scene +to which nobody who had read it would need a +second reference! But this well, to the left, was +even better than the hedge: it must have been +described already; for it looked as if put there +for the purpose. What a damp nook in the +hedge it stood in, with three old yews above it, +and tufts of long grass to fringe the place! +What a well-used chain and ladle, and what +merry, mischievous children, pushing one another +into the muddy pool where the drippings +fell, and splashing each other, under pretence of +drinking! He was afraid of losing the impression +of this place, so much dusty road as he had +to pass through, and so many new objects to +meet before he could sit down to write; unless, +indeed, he did it now. Why should not he write +his paper now? It was a good idea—a capital +thought!</p> + +<p class='c001'>Three backs of letters and a pencil were presently +found, and a flat parcel in one of the window-pockets, +which served as a desk, when the +feet were properly planted on the opposite seat. +The lines were none of the straightest, at first; +and the dots and stops wandered far out of their +right places; while the long words looked somewhat +hieroglyphical. But the coach stopped; +and Mr. Reid forgot to observe how much longer +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.88'>88</span>it took than before to change horses while he was +the only passenger. He looked up only once, +and then saw so charming an old granny, with +her little Tommy, carrying a toad-in-a-hole to +the baker’s, that he was rewarded for his momentary +idleness, and resolved to find a place +for them too, near the well and the mossy hedge.</p> + +<p class='c001'>He was now as sorry to be off again as before +to stop. The horses were spirited, and the road +was rough. His pencil slipped and jerked, this +way and that. Presently his eyes ached: his +ideas were jostled away. It was impossible to +compose while the manual act was so troublesome; +it was nonsense to attempt it. Nothing +but idleness would do in travelling; so the +blunted pencil was put by, and the eye was +refreshed once more with green.</p> + +<p class='c001'>But now a new sort of country was opening. +The hedges were gone, and a prodigious stretch +of fallow on either hand looked breezy and +pleasant enough at first; and the lark sprang +from the furrow so blithely, that Reid longed to +stop the coach, that he might hear its trilling. +But the lark could not be heard, and was soon +out of sight; and the perspective of furrows +became as wearying as making pothooks had +been. Reid betook himself to examining the +window-pockets. There were two or three tidy +parcels for solicitors, of course; and a little one, +probably for a maid-servant, as there were seven +lines of direction upon it. The scent of strawberries +came from a little basket, coolly lined +with leaves, and addressed to Master Jones, at a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.89'>89</span>school in a town to be presently passed through. +Reid hoped, for the boy’s sake, that there was a +letter too; and he found an interstice, through +which he could slip half-a-dozen burnt almonds, +which had remained in his pocket after treating +his own child. What speculations there would +be, next holiday time, about how the almonds +got in! Two or three other little parcels were +disregarded; for among them lay one of more +importance to Reid than all the rest,—three +newspapers, tied round once with a bit of red +tape, and directed, in pencil, to be left at the +Blue Lion till called for. Reid took the liberty +of untying the tape, and amusing himself with +the precious pieces of type that had fallen in his +way. There was little political intelligence in +these papers, and that was of old date; but a +little goes a great way with a solitary traveller; +and when the better parts of a newspaper are disposed +of, enough remains in the drier parts to +employ the intellect that courts suggestion. That +which is the case with all objects on which the +attention is occupied, is eminently the case with +a newspaper—that whatever the mind happens +to be full of there receives addition, and that the +mood in which it is approached there meets with +confirmation. Reid had heard much from the +farmer of the hardships which individuals suffer +from a wasteful public expenditure; and his eye +seemed to catch something which related to this +matter, to whatever corner of the papers it wandered.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.90'>90</span>"<span class='sc'>Strike at ****** Palace.</span>—<i>All the +workmen at present employed on this extensive +structure ceased work on the appearance of the +contractor yesterday morning. Their demand for +higher wages being decidedly refused by him, the +men quitted the spot, and the works have since +remained deserted. A considerable crowd gathered +round, and appeared disposed to take part +with the workmen, who, it is said, have for some +time past been arranging a combination to secure +a rise of wages. The contractor declares his +intention to concede no part of the demand.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'>The crowd taking part with the workmen! +Then the crowd knows less than the workmen +what it is about. These wages are paid by that +very crowd; and it is because they issue from +the public purse that the workmen think they +may demand higher wages than they would from +a nobleman or private gentleman. The contractor +is but a medium, as they see, between the +tax-payers and themselves; and the terms of the +contract must depend much on the rate of wages +of those employed. I hope the contractor will +indeed concede nothing; for it is the people that +must overpay eventually; and it has been too +long taken for granted that the public must pay +higher for everything than individuals. I should +not wonder if these men have got it into their +heads, like an acquaintance of mine in the same +line, that, as they are taxed for these public +buildings, they have a right to get as much of +their money back as they can, forgetting that if +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.91'>91</span>every taxed person did the same, there would be +no palace built;—not but that we could spare +two or three extremely well;—or might, at least, +postpone some of the interminable alterations +and embellishments, with an account of which +the nation is treated, year after year, in return +for its complaisance in furnishing the cash. Let +their Majesties be nobly lodged, by all means; +and, moreover, gratified in the exercise of tastes +which are a thousand times more dignified than +those of our kings in the days of cloth of gold, +and more refined than those of monarchs who +could make themselves exceedingly merry at the +expense of their people. The test, after all, is—What +is necessary for the <i>support</i> of the administrating +body, and what upholds mere <i>pomp</i>? +These are no days for public pomp. In one +sense, the time for it is gone by; in another +sense, it is not come;—that is, we ought now to +be men enough to put away such childish things; +and, we cannot yet afford them. Two or three +noble royal palaces, let alone when once completed, +are, in my mind, a proper support to the +dignity of the sovereign. As for half-a-dozen, +if they do not make up a display of disgraceful +pomp, the barbaric princes of the East are greater +philosophers than I take them for. Yes, yes; +let the sovereign be nobly lodged; but let it be +remembered that noble lodgings are quite as +much wanted for other parties.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"<i>Mr. ——’s motion was lost without a +division.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.92'>92</span>Aye: just so. The concentrated essence of +the people, as the House of Commons pretends +to be, must put up with a sordid lodging, however +many royal palaces England may boast. They +are not anything so precious as they pretend to +be, or they would not so meanly exclude themselves +from their right. They might just as +faithfully consult the dignity of the empire by +making the King and Queen live in a cottage of +three rooms, as by squeezing themselves into a +house where there is neither proper accommodation +for their sittings, nor for the transaction of +their business in Committees, nor for witnessing, +nor for reporting their proceedings. I thought +my wife quite right in saying that she would never +again undergo the insult of being referred to the +ventilators; and I have determined twenty times +myself that I would despise the gallery so utterly +that I would never set foot in it again: yet to the +gallery I still go; and I should not wonder if my +wife puts away, for once or twice, her disgust at +inhaling smoke and steam, and her indignation +at being permitted to watch the course of legislation +only through a pigeon-hole and a grating. +The presence of women there, in spite of such +insults, is a proof that they are worthy of being +treated less like nuns and more like rational +beings; and the greater the rush and consequent +confusion in the gallery, the more certain is it that +there are people who want, and who eventually +will have the means of witnessing the proceedings +of their legislators. But all this is nothing to +the importance of better accommodation to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.93'>93</span>members. Of all extraordinary occasions of +being economical, that is the most strange which +impairs the exertions of the grand deliberative +assembly of the nation,—the most majestic body, +if it understood its own majesty,—within the +bounds of the empire. Why,—every nobleman +should be content with one house, and every +private gentleman be ashamed of his stables and +kennels, rather than that the House of Commons +should not have a perfect place of assemblage. +I verily believe that many a poor man would +willingly give his every third potato towards thus +aiding the true representation of his interests. It +would be good economy in him so to do, if there +was nothing of less consequence to be sacrificed +first. But King, Lords, and Commons are not +the only personages who have a claim on the +public to be well housed, for purposes of social +support, not pomp.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"<i>Yesterday morning, Andrew Wilson underwent +the sentence of the law, &c. &c. Though +only twenty years of age, he was old in guilt, +having been committed for his first offence,—throwing +stones at the police,—-when he was in +his thirteenth year. He is supposed to have been +for some time connected with a gang of desperate +offenders; but nothing could be extracted from +him relative to his former associates, though the +reverend chaplain of the jail devoted the most +unremitting attention to the spiritual concerns of +the unhappy man.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'>So this is the way we tend the sick children of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.94'>94</span>the great social family, because, forsooth, with +all our palaces, we cannot afford a proper infirmary! +As soon as symptoms of sickness appear, +we thrust all our patients together, to make +one another as much worse as possible, and when +any one is past hope, we take credit for our humanity +in stuffing him with remedies which come +too late. To look at our prisons, one would +think that we must be out in our Christian chronology. +That among the many mansions of the +social edifice, room cannot be found for those +who have the strongest claim of all on our pitying +love and watchful care,—what a scandal this +is may be most fully comprehended by those who +have passed from the loathsome confusion of the +greater number of our prisons to the silence and +rigid order of the very few in which a better +system has been tried. There are persons to +press the argument that while many of our honest +poor, in London and in the factory districts, are +crowded together, six or seven families in the +same apartment, it cannot be expected that the +guilty should be better accommodated. But +these same honest poor,—trebly honest if they +can remain so under such a mode of living,—may +well be as glad as other people that the +prisoner should be doomed to the solitude which +their poverty denies to them. These same honest +poor are taxed to pay for the transportation of +multitudes of the guilty, and for the idleness of +all: while the incessant regeneration of crime +through our prison methods affords but a melancholy +prospect of augmented burdens on their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.95'>95</span>children’s children for similar purposes. In this +point of view alone, how dearly has the public +paid for the destruction of this Andrew Wilson, +and for the offences of the gang he belongs to! +Committed in his childhood for the childish fault +of throwing stones, kept in a state of expensive +idleness for want of an apparatus of labour, +thrown into an atmosphere of corruption for +want of room to insulate him, issuing forth as a +vagabond to spread the infection of idleness and +vice, and being brought back to be tried and +hanged at the nation’s expense, after he had successfully +qualified others for claiming from the +public the expense of transportation,—would not +the injured wretch have been more profitably +maintained through a long life at the public expense? +Would it not have answered better to +the public purse to give him an establishment, on +condition of his remaining harmless? If no +Christian considerations are strong enough to +rouse us to build new jails, or to transmute the spare +palaces of the educated and the honoured into +penitentiaries for the ignorant and forlorn, there +may be calculable truths,—facts of pounds, shillings, +and pence,—which may plead on behalf of +the guilty against the system of mingled parsimony +and extravagance by which guilt is aggravated +at home, and diffused abroad, and the +innocent have to pay dear for that present quiet +which insures a future further invasion of their +security. Every complainant who commits a +young offender to certain of our jails knows, or +may know, that he thereby burdens the public +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.96'>96</span>with a malefactor for life, and with all who will +become criminals by his means. What wonder +that the growing chances of impunity become a +growing inducement to crime? There is no occasion +to “provide criminals with port wine and +Turkey-carpets;” but there would be more sense +and better economy in this extreme,—if insulation +were secured,—than in the system which remains +a reproach to the head and heart of the +community. Ah! here are a few hints as to one +of the methods by which we contrive to have so +many young offenders upon our hands.</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>John Ford, a publican, was fined for having +music in his house, &c. &c.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>Two labourers, brothers, named White, +were charged with creating a disturbance in the +neighbourhood of the residence of Sir L. M. N. O., +who has lately enforced his right of shutting up +the foot-path, &c. &c.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>The number of boats which passed under +Putney Bridge from noon to sunset on a Sunday +in summer, was computed by the informant of +the right reverend bishop to exceed, &c. &c.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c001'>"<i>The witness stated that he saw the two prisoners +that morning in the Albany Road, Regent’s +Park, selling the unstamped publications which +were now produced. He purchased a copy from +each of them, and took the vendors into custody. +The magistrates committed the prisoners to the +House of Correction for one month each, and +thrust the forfeited papers into the fire. The +prisoners were then removed from the bar, laughing.</i>“</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.97'>97</span>”<i>On the discussion, last night, relative to the +throwing open of the Museum, we have to observe, +&c. &c.</i>“</p> + +<p class='c001'>”<i>The prisoner related that his dog having, on +a former occasion, brought a hare to him in a similar +manner, the gamekeeper had ordered the +animal to be shot. The prisoner’s son had then +contrived to secrete it; but he could assure the +magistrates that the animal should be immediately +<a id='corr97.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='sacrified'>sacrificed</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_97.10'><ins class='correction'>sacrificed</ins></a></span> if he might be spared the ruin of +being sent to prison.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Considering that one of the great objects of +government is the security, and another the advancement, +of the people, it seems as if one of +the expenses of government should be providing +useful and innocent amusement for the people. +All must have something to do in the intervals of +their toils; and as the educated can find recreations +for themselves, it behoves the guardians of +the public to be especially careful in furnishing +innocent amusements to those who are less fitted +to choose their pleasures well. But where are +the public grounds in which the poor of our large +towns may take the air, and exercise themselves +in games? Where are the theatres, the museums, +the news-rooms, to which the poor may +resort without an expense unsuited to their +means? What has become of the principle of +Christian equality, when a Christian prelate murmurs +at the poor man’s efforts to enjoy, at rare +intervals, the green pastures and still waters to +which a loving shepherd would fain lead forth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.98'>98</span>all his flock; and if any more tenderly than +others, it would be such as are but too little left +at large? Our administrators are careful enough +to guard the recreations of those who, if deprived +of them, are in the least danger of being driven +to guilty excitements. The rich who can have +music and dancing, theatres, picture-galleries +and museums, riding in the parks, and walking +in the fields any day of the week, hunting and +boating, journeying and study, must also have +one more, at whatever expense of vice and misery +to their less favoured neighbours, and at whatever +cost to society at large. Yes; their game must +be protected, though the poor man must not +listen in the public-house to the music which he +cannot hire, nor read at home almost the only +literature that he can buy. He must destroy his +cherished dog, if it happens to follow a hare; and +must take his evening walk in the dusty road if a +powerful neighbour forbids him the quiet, green +footway. Thus we drive him to try if there is +no being merry at the beer-shop, and if he cannot +amuse himself with his dog in the woods at +night, since he must not in the day. Thus we +tempt him to worse places than a cheap theatre +would be. Thus we preach to him about loving +and cherishing God’s works, while we shut out +some of them from his sight, and wrest others +from his grasp; and, by making happiness and +heaven an abstraction which we deny him the +intellect to comprehend, we impel him to make +trial of misery and hell, and by our acts do our +best to speed him on his way, while our weak +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.99'>99</span>words of warning are dispersed by the whirlwind +of temptation which we ourselves have raised. If +the administration of penal justice be a grievous +burden upon the people, it must be lightened by +a practical respect to that higher justice which +commands that the interests of all, the noble and +the mean, the educated and the ignorant, be of +equal importance in the regards of the administration; +so that government shall as earnestly +protest against the slaughter of the poor man’s +dog for the sake of the rich man’s sport, as +the prophet of God against the sacrifice of the +poor man’s ewe-lamb for the rich man’s feast. If +bible-read prelates preached from their hearts +upon this text, we should never have another +little boy supposing that he was to be a clergyman, +because he went out shooting with his +father. Would that such could be persuaded to +leave their partridges and pheasants, and go east +and west, to bring down and send home the +winged creatures of other climes, wherewith to +delight the eyes of the ignorant, and to enlarge +his knowledge of God’s works! Meantime, the +well-dressed only can enter the Zoological Gardens; +and the footman (who cannot be otherwise +than well-dressed) must pull off his cockade before +he may look at that which may open to him +some of the glory of the 104th Psalm. We are +lavish of God’s word to the people, but grudging +of his works. We offer them the dead letter, +withholding the spirit which gives life. Yet +something is done in the way of genuine homage. +See here!—</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.100'>100</span>“<i>Yesterday being the occasion of the annual +assemblage of schools in St. Paul’s * * under +the dome * * children sang a hymn * * +crowded to excess * * presence of her Majesty, +&c. &c.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c001'>And here follows an account of certain university +prize-givings. We are not without public +education,—badged,—the one to denote charity, +the other endowments.</p> + +<p class='c001'>If education were what it ought to be,—the +breath of the life of the community,—there would +be an end of this childish and degrading badging. +At present, this prodigious display of white +tippets and coloured cockades under the dome of +St. Paul’s tells only that, because the whole of +society is not educated at all, a small portion is +educated wrong. There is less to be proud than +ashamed of in such an exhibition; and though +the stranger from a comparatively barbarous +country may feel his heart swell as that mighty +infant voice chaunts its hymn of praise, the +thoughts of the meditative patriot will wander +from these few elect to the multitudes that are +left in the outer darkness. Till the state can +show how every parent may afford his children a +good education, the state is bound to provide the +means for it; and to enforce the use of those +means by making a certain degree of intellectual +competency a condition of the enjoyment of the +benefits of society. Till the state can appoint to +every member a sufficiency of leisure from the +single manual act which, under an extensive division +of labour, constitutes the business of many, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.101'>101</span>it is bound to provide the only effectual antidote +to the contracting and benumbing influences +of such servile toil.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Till knowledge ceases to be at least as necessary +to the happiness of the state as military skill +was to the defence of the Greek Republics, the +state is bound to require of every individual a +certain amount of intellectual ability, as Greece +required of her citizens a specified degree of military +skill. Till all these extraordinary things +happen, no pleas of poverty, no mournful reference +to the debt, no just murmurs against the +pension list, can absolve us from the obligation +of framing and setting in motion a system of +instruction which shall include every child that +shall not be better educated elsewhere. Not that +this would be any very tremendous expense. +There is an enormous waste of educational resources +already, from the absence of system and +co-operation. Lords and ladies, squires and +dames, farmers’ wives, merchants’ daughters, and +clergymen’s sisters, have their schools, benevolently +set on foot, and indefatigably kept up, in +defiance of the evils of insulation and diversity of +plan. Let all these be put under the workings +of a well-planned system, and there will be a prodigious +saving of effort and of cost. The private +benevolence now operating in this direction +would go very far towards the fulfilment of a +national scheme. What a saving in teachers, in +buildings, in apparatus and materials, and, finally, +in badges! There will be no uniform of white +caps and tippets when there is no particular glory +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.102'>102</span>to be got by this species of charity; when none +can be found who must put up with the humiliation +for the sake of the overbalancing good. +When the whole people is so well off that none +come to receive alms at the sound of the trumpet, +the trumpet will cease to sound. The day may +even arrive when blue gowns and yellow stockings +shall excite pity in the beholders no more, +and no widowed parent be compelled to struggle +with her maternal shame at subjecting her comely +lad to the mortifications which the young spirit +has not learned to brave. This last grievance, +however, lies not at the nation’s door. It is chargeable +on the short-sightedness of an individual, +which may serve as a warning to us whenever +we set to work on our system of national education. +It may teach us, by exhibiting the folly of +certain methods of endowment, to examine others; +to avoid the absurdity of bestowing vast sums in +teaching plain things in a perplexed manner, or +supposed sciences which have long ceased to be +regarded as such, or other accomplishments which +the circumstances of the times do not render +either necessary or convenient. It may lead our +attention from the endowed school to the endowed +university, and show us that what we want, +from our gentlemen as well as our poor, is an +awakening of the intellect to objects of immediate +and general concern, and not a compulsion to +mental toil which shall leave a man, after years +of exemplary application, ignorant of whatever +may make him most useful in society, and may +be best employed and improved amidst the intercourses +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.103'>103</span>of the world. Let there remain a tribe +of book-worms still; and Heaven forbid that the +classics should fall into contempt! But let scholastic +honours be bestowed according to the sympathies +of the many; the many being meantime +so cultivated as that they may arrive at a sympathy +with intellectual toil. With the progress +of science, the diffusion of science becomes necessary. +The greater the power of the people +to injure or rebel, the more necessary it is to +teach them to be above injuring and rebelling. +The ancient tyrant who hung up his laws written +in so small a character that his people could not +read them, and then punished offenders under +pretence that his laws were exhibited, was no +more unjust than we are while we transport and +hang our neighbours for deeds of folly and malice, +while we still withhold from them the spirit of +power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Bring +public education to the test, and it will be found +that badgery is <i>pomp</i>, while universal instruction +is essential to the <i>support</i> of the state.</p> + +<p class='c001'>A pretty new church that! But I should +scarcely have supposed it wanted while there is a +new Methodist meeting-house on one side the +way, and the large old Independent chapel on the +other. The little church that the lady is sketching +before it comes down, might have served a +while longer, I fancy, if the necessity had been +estimated by the number of church-goers, and +not of souls, in the parish. Whatever may be +thought of the obligation to provide a national +scheme of worship after the manner in which a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.104'>104</span>national scheme of education is certainly a duty,—however +the essential circumstance of distinction +is overlooked, that every member of the state +has, without its assistance, opportunities of worship, +while such is not the case with instruction,—whatever +may be thought of the general question +of an ecclesiastical establishment,—it is not pretended +by any that its purposes are answered by +the application of its funds to the augmentation +of private fortunes instead of the religious instruction +of the people. Time was when he who +presented to a <i>benefice</i> was supposed to confer a +<i>benefit</i> on the people connected with it. Now +we have the public barter of such presentations +for gold; and whether most regard be always +paid to the qualifications of the candidate or to +the gold he brings, let the face of the country +declare. Meeting-houses springing up in every +village, intelligent artizans going off to one class +or another of Dissenters, while the stolid race of +agricultural labourers lounge to church,—what +does this tell but that the religious wants of the +people are better met by the privately-paid than +the publicly-paid church? The people are not +religiously <i>instructed</i> by the clergy, as a body. +Look into our agricultural districts, and see what +the mere opening of churches does for the population,—for +the dolts who snore round the fire in +the farm-kitchen during the long winter evenings, +and the poor wretches that creep, match in hand, +between the doomed stacks, or that walk firmly +to the gibbet under the delusion that their life-long +disease of grovelling vice is cured and sent +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.105'>105</span>to oblivion by a few priestly prayers and three +days of spiritual excitement! Look into our +thronged towns, and search in its cellars and +garrets, its alleys and its wider streets, how many +dwellers there see the face of their clergyman, +and have learned from his lips the reason of the +hope that is in them,—if such hope there indeed +be! They hear that he who holds the benefice, +<i>i.e.</i> is appointed their benefactor, is living in +London, or travelling abroad, on the funds which +are derived from the people, and that a curate, +found by accident or advertisement, is coming to +do the duty. He may be a religious instructor, +in the real sense of the term, or he may not. If +he be, no thanks to his superior, no thanks to +the state, no thanks to the university that bred +him! For aught they know or trouble themselves +about, he may be more ignorant than +many a mechanic in his flock, and more indolent +than the finest lady who carries her salts to her +cushioned pew. He might have the same virtues +that he has now if he were a dissenting minister; +and nobody disputes that nowhere does virtue +more eminently fail of its earthly recompense +than in the church. Nowhere do luxury and indolence +more shamelessly absorb the gains of +hardship and of toil. The sum of the whole +matter is, that in the present state of the church, +the people pay largely for religious instruction, +which it is a chance whether they obtain. If the +same payment were made by the people direct,—without +the intervention of the state,—they would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.106'>106</span>be sure to demand and receive an equivalent for +their sacrifices. If the people be supposed incapable +of thus providing for their own spiritual +wants, it behoves the state to see that those wants +are actually provided for, so that more than half +the nation may not be compelled, through failure +of duty in the establishment, to support a double +ministry. No power in earth or heaven can absolve +the state from the obligation, either to leave +to its members the management of their own +funds for religious worship and instruction, or to +furnish to every individual the means of learning +the Gospel and worshipping his Maker. The +first is a plan which has been elsewhere found to +answer full as well as any we have yet tried. The +last can never be attained by merely opening a +sufficiency of churches, and leaving to men’s +cupidity the chance whether the pulpit shall be +occupied by an ape or an apostle.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Have the people got a notion already of such +an alternative?</p> + +<p class='c001'>"<span class='sc'>Tithes.</span>—<span class='sc'>Parish of C.</span>—<i>On Monday, the +Rev. J. B. H. commenced distraining for tithes +due, &c. &c. On that day there were impounded +above forty cows. The parishioners offered security +for the cattle, which was refused, and they +have resolved to let the law take its course. In +the mean time, a large military and police force +is stationed in the vicinity of the pound. Sentinels +are regularly posted and relieved, and the +place presents more the appearance of a warlike +district than a country village.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.107'>107</span>Ah! this Rev. J. B. H. takes for his text, +perhaps, “I came not to send peace on earth, +but a sword.” The people, it seems, think his +claim, 1476<i>l.</i>, on a valued property of 9000<i>l.</i> a +year, excessive. But his advocate declares that +no man, acquainted with first principles, can deny +that the Rev. J. B. H. has a legal right to demand +and take his tithes. Be it so! But first principles +tell just as plainly that it is high time the +law was altered:—first principles of humanity to +the clergy themselves, to judge by what comes +next.</p> + +<p class='c001'>"<i>The subscription for the relief of the families +of clergymen in Ireland proceeds but slowly, +though the necessity for it increases with every +passing day. Ladies who have been educated +with a view to filling a highly-respectable station +in society may now be seen engaged in the most +laborious domestic offices; while their children +are thankful to accept a meal of potatoes from +some of the lowest of their father’s flock.</i>“</p> + +<p class='c001'>”<i>The widow of an Irish clergyman, middle-aged, +is eager to obtain a situation to superintend +the management of the nursery in the family of a +widower, or as useful companion to a lady, or as +housekeeper in a nobleman’s mansion, or as matron +in an extensive charitable institution. She +would be willing to make herself useful in any +situation not menial, her circumstances being of an +urgent nature.—References to a lady of rank.</i>“</p> + +<p class='c001'>”<i>A master of arts, in full orders, is desirous +of a curacy. He feels himself equal to a laborious +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.108'>108</span>charge; and a speedy settlement is of more +importance than the amount of salary, especially +if there be an opening for tuition.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c001'>Alas! what a disclosure of misery is here! +among a body which the United Kingdom is +taxed to maintain. Poor as the Dissenting clergy +may be, as a body, we hear of no such conflicts +in their lot. The poor spirit-broken clergyman +bearing, undeserved by him, the opprobrium +belonging to his church, seeing his gentle wife +washing his floor, or striving to patch up once +more the girl’s frock and the boy’s coat; while +they, poor children, peep in at the door of the +labourer’s smoky cabin, and rush in at the first +invitation to take a sup of milk or a potatoe! +Scraps of the classics, descriptive of poverty, <i>will</i> +run in his head, instead of gospel consolations +of poverty; for the good reason that he was +taught that his classics, and not his choice of +poverty, were his title to preach the gospel. He +could find in his heart to inquire further of any +heretical sect, which takes for its rule to employ +every one according to his capacity, and reward +him according to his works. However difficult +it might be to fix upon any authority which all +men would agree to be a fitting judge of their +capacities and their works, none would affirm +that an educated clergyman is employed according +to his capacities in wandering about helpless +amidst the contempt or indifference of his flock, +or that his works are properly rewarded by the +starvation of his family. Then there is the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.109'>109</span>widow of a brother in the same fruitless ministry! +“<i>Any situation not menial!</i>” “<i>Her +circumstances of an urgent nature!</i>” One poor +relation, perhaps, taking charge of one child, +and another of a second; and the third, perhaps, +sent to wear the badge of this lady of rank at a +charity-school, that the widow may be made +childless—may advertise herself as “without +incumbrance,” to undertake any situation not +menial! Then comes the curate, eager to undertake +more than man can do for as little as +man can live for;—to use his intellectual tools, +framed with care, and polished with long toil, +and needing, in their application, all the power +of a philosopher with all the zeal of a saint,—for +less than is given to the artizan who spends +his life in the performance of one manual act, +or the clerk, whose whole soul lies in one process +of computation! This poor curate, heart-sick +through long waiting, may find employment according +to his capacities, and above them; but, +if he be fit for his work, he will not be rewarded +according to it, till those for whom he and his +brethren toil have, directly or indirectly, the distribution +of the recompense. Bring the church, +in its turn, to the test. It is certain that it is +made up of pomp and penury; and no power on +earth can prove that it at present yields any support +to the state.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Since the people have no benefit from a state +education, and but a questionable benefit from a +state church, how much is spent on their behalf? +Here are tables which look as if they would tell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.110'>110</span>something, though it requires more wit than +mortal man has to make out accurately how the +public accounts really stand. Among all the +accommodations provided for the transaction of +public business, one would think a pay-office +might be fixed upon where all public claims +should be discharged, in certain allotted departments; +and, among all the servants of government, +working men or sinecurists, one would +think some might be employed in preparing such +a document as has never yet been seen among +us—an account of the actual annual expenditure +of the public money. But one may make some +approach to the truth in the gross:—</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>The expenditure for the last year may be +calculated, in round numbers, at upwards of +fifty millions.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c001'>Upon my word, we are a gay nation! If we +acted upon the belief held by some very wise +persons, that the business of government might +be conducted at a charge of one per cent. on the +aggregate of individual revenue, this sum total +would show us to be rich enough to buy Europe, +and perhaps America to boot. This would give +us a national wealth which it would be beyond +Crœsus himself to form a notion of. But we +are far enough from having ourselves governed +so cheaply. Let us see how these fifty millions +go:—</p> + +<table class='table1'> +<colgroup> +<col class='colwidth82'> +<col class='colwidth17'> +</colgroup> + <tr> + <td class='c016'>“<i>To the Public Creditor</i></td> + <td class='c017'>£28,000,000©©</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c016'>©<i>Civil and Pension Lists</i></td> + <td class='c017'>1,000,000©©</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.111'>111</span>©<i>Superannuated and Reduced Allowances of Civil Departments</i></td> + <td class='c017'>£1,000,000©©</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c016'>©<i>Do. of Military Ditto</i></td> + <td class='c017'>4,300,000©©</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c016'>©<i>Miscellaneous Charges</i></td> + <td class='c017'>200,000.”</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class='c001'>Here are thirty-four millions and a half devoted +to “non-effective” expenditure. This is a +pretty triumph of <i>Pomp</i> versus <i>Support</i>.—Yes,—pomp: +for few will now dare to affirm that +our prodigious wars were necessary to the +national defence. They were wars of pomp +which undermined our supports: and, as for the +glory thus gained, our descendants will be +ashamed of it long before they have done paying +for it.—As for the other items of non-effective +expenditure,—the smaller they appear by the +side of the enormous debt charge, the more necessity +there is for their reduction; since the +disproportion proves,—not their smallness, but +its bigness. Though they cannot be abolished,—though +their Majesties must have a household,—though +the other branches of the royal family +must be supported,—though retired soldiers and +sailors must be taken care of on their quitting a +service from which it is not easy to turn to any +other,—no man will now affirm that reduction is +forever impossible; though the like affirmation +was made before the present government proved +its falsehood. That their Majesties must have a +household on a liberal scale is true; but that +there are no sinecures in the royal households +remains to be proved. And if such sinecures +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.112'>112</span>there must be, it also remains to be proved that +they would not be equally well filled if they were +merely honorary offices. That the members of +the royal family, precluded as they are by their +position from being independent, must submit to +be maintained by a pitying people, is also true. +It is a lot so full of mortification, that a Christian +nation will soften the necessity to them to the +utmost; cheerfully paying as much as will support +them in decent splendour, but not so much +more as will expose them to the taunts of their +supporters. This regard to their feelings is their +due, till their day of emancipation arrives,—till +the customs of society shall allow them the +natural rights of men and women,—the power of +social exertion, and the enjoyment of social independence. +Their case, however, is peculiar in +its hardships. No other class in society is precluded +from either enjoying ancestral property or +accumulating property for themselves; and it is too +much to expect the nation to approve or to pay for +the infliction of a similar humiliation on any who +have not, in their own persons or in those of their +very nearest connexions, served the people for +an otherwise insufficient reward. Let the soldier +and sailor who have sacrificed health or member +in the public defence be provided for by a grateful +people; but there is no reason why the descendants +of civil officers, or diplomatists retired +from already overpaid services, should receive +among them far more than is afforded to naval +and military pensions together. As for the proportion +of these naval and military pensions to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.113'>113</span>the expenditure for effective defence, it is to be +hoped that a long abstinence from war will +rectify,—if they must not be otherwise rectified,—such +enormous abuses as that of the number +of retired soldiers far exceeding that of the employed, +and of the expenses of the non-effective +service being considerably greater than the maintenance +of the actual army. Monstrous absurdities! +that the factitiously helpless class should +cost the nation more than those who advance +some plea,—more or less substantial,—of civil +services, rendered by themselves or their connexions! +that these last should cost the nation +more than the whole body of its maimed, and +wounded, and worn-out defenders! and that these +again should cost the nation more than its actual +defenders! What wonder that they from whose +toils all these expenses must be paid talk of a +national militia,—of arming themselves, and dispensing +with a standing army? It is no wonder: +but when we let them be as wise as they desire +to be, they will perceive that their best weapons +at present are the tongues of their representatives. +It has not yet been tried whether these tongues +may not utter a spell powerful enough to loosen +this enormous Dead-Weight from the neck of the +nation.</p> + +<p class='c001'>But how goes the 15,000,000<i>l.</i> for actual service?</p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>Of the 15,000,000l. required for active service, +three and a half are expended on the collection +of the revenue. Eight and a quarter on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.114'>114</span>defence. Law and justice swallow up three-quarters +of a million. Another million is required +for civil government, and the expenses of +legislation. Diplomacy and the colonial civil +service are discharged by half a million. About +half a million is spent on public works. The +remaining odd half million out of the fifteen, is +expended on the management of the debt, and +for miscellaneous services,” &c.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>So we, a most Christian nation, with abundance +of Christian prelates, and a church which +is to watch over the state with apostolic care,—we, +strenuous professors of a religion of peace +and enlightenment,—spend eight millions and a +quarter on Defence, and——how much on popular +Education? I suppose the latter forms some +little item in one of the smaller accounts, for I +can nowhere see it. Eight millions and a quarter +on Defence, and three quarters on Law and +Justice! Eight and a quarter on Defence, and +one on Government and Legislation! Eight +millions and a quarter on Defence, and half a +million on Public Works! O, monstrous!—too +monstrous a sin to be charged on any ruler, or +body of rulers, or succession of bodies of rulers! +The broad shoulders of the whole civilized world +must bear this tremendous reproach:—the world +which has had Christianity in it these eighteen +hundred years, and whose most Christian empire +yet lays out more than half its serviceable expenditure +in providing the means of bloodshed, +or of repelling bloodshed! The proportion would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.115'>115</span>be enormous, even if all the other items were of +righteous signification,—if the proper proportion +of the three and a half millions for Collection +went to Education; if Law were simple, and +Justice cheap; if the real servants of Government +were liberally paid, and all idle hangers-on shaken +off; if there were no vicious diplomatic and colonial +patronage; and no jobbing in the matter +of Public Works. If all else were as it should be, +this item might well make us doubt what age of the +world we are living in, and for what purpose it is +that Providence is pleased to humble us by leaving +such a painful thorn of barbarism in the side of our +majestic civilization. Long must it be before it +can grow out. Meantime, let us not boast as if the +whole body were sound; or as if we were not +performing as humbling and factitious a duty in +paying our defence-taxes as the bondman of old +in following the banner of the cross to the eastern +slaughter-field. The one was the bondman’s duty +then; and the other is the citizen’s duty now; +but the one duty is destined to become as obsolete +as the other.—What glory in that day, to reverse +the order of expenditure! Education, Public +Works, Government and Legislation, Law and +Justice, Diplomacy, Defence, Dignity of the +Sovereign. When this time shall come, no one +can conjecture; but that we shall not always +have to pay eight millions a year for our defence +is certain; if the voice of a wise man,—(which +is always the voice of an awakening multitude,)—say +true. “Human intelligence will not stand +still: the same impulse that has hitherto borne +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.116'>116</span>it onwards, will continue to advance it yet further. +The very circumstance of the vast increase of +expense attending national warfare has made it +impossible for governments henceforth to engage +in it, without the public assent, expressed or +implied; and that assent will be obtained with +the more difficulty, in proportion as the public +shall become more generally acquainted with +their real interest. The national military establishment +will be reduced to what is barely sufficient +to repel external attack; for which purpose, little +more is necessary than a small body of such +kinds of troops as cannot be had without long +training and exercise; as of cavalry and artillery. +For the rest, nations will rely on their militia, +and on the excellence of their internal polity; for +it is next to impossible to conquer a people, +unanimous in their attachment to their national +institutions.” Nor will any desire to conquer +them while our example of the results of conquest +is before the eyes of nations. Then the newspapers +will not have to give up space to notices +of military reviews; and gentry whose names +have no chance of otherwise appearing in print +will not have the trouble of looking for themselves +in the list of army promotions. The pomp +of defence will be done away, while the support +will remain in the hearts and hands of the +people.</p> + +<p class='c001'>What a blessed thing it is that as soon as the +people do not choose to pay for pomp, pomp will +be done away! What a blessed thing that they +cannot be put out of the question, as Henry +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.117'>117</span>VIII.’s people were, by sending their representatives +to the wars as often as they disliked paying +for the King’s gold and silver beards, or the +Lady Mary’s fool’s cap and bells! What a +blessing that they can be no longer feared and +yet defied, as when Charles II. did without a +parliament because he was afraid to tell them of +the bribes he had taken, and the loans he had +asked, and the cheats he had committed, and the +mad extravagance of his tastes and habits! Here, +I see, we are content to pay for</p> + +<p class='c018'>“<i>Robes, collars, badges, &c., for Knights of +the several Orders.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>”<i>Repairing the King’s crown, maces, badges, +&c., and gold and silver sticks.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>“<i>Plate to the Secretary of State.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>”<i>Plate and various equipage money to the Lord +Lieutenant and Lord Chancellor of Ireland.</i>"</p> + +<p class='c018'>This is the people’s own doing. No grown +man can be supposed to care for crowns and gold +sticks, and robes and collars, in themselves. It +is the people who choose to preserve them as +antiquarian curiosities. So be it, as long as their +taste for antiquities takes this turn, and they can +find grown men good-natured enough to dress +up to make a show for their gratification. But, +in another reign or two, it will be necessary to +have dolls made to save busy and grave legislators +the toil and absurdity of figuring in such an +exhibition; or perhaps cheap theatres will by +that time be allowed, where those who now act +pantomimes, will not be above exhibiting these +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.118'>118</span>other mummeries on Christmas nights. Meantime, +if the people choose to have their functionaries +surrounded with pomp and parade, they +must pay the purchase money with thanks. +Whenever they shall become disposed to dispense +with guards, trappings, and pageantry, to respect +simplicity, and obey the laws for the sake of +something more venerable than maces and wigs, +they have only to say so, and doubtless the King +will feel much relieved, and his ministers very +thankful. The laws will work quite as well for +the judges looking like other people; in the same +manner as it is found that physicians’ prescriptions +are worth full as much as formerly, though +the learned gentlemen now wear their own hair. +We tried this method of simplicity in our own +North American Colonies, less than a century +ago. Their total expenditure was under 65,000<i>l.</i> +per annum. We shall not have held those +colonies for nothing if we learn from our own +doings there how cheap a thing government may +be made, when removed from under the eyes and +the hands of a born aristocracy.</p> + +<p class='c001'>What a rich, stirring, happy-looking country +this is before my eyes, where the people hold up +their heads and smile,—very differently, I fancy, +from what they did when the proud Cardinal +made a progress through it, or when whispers of +the sale of Dunkirk circulated in advance or in +the rear of the sovereign who bartered away his +people’s honour! How times are changed, when, +instead of complaining that the King and his +Ministers sacrifice the nation to their own pomps +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.119'>119</span>and vanities, the people only murmur at an +insufficiency of courage and despatch in relieving +them of the burdens imposed by the mal-administration +of a former age! What a change, from +being king-ridden, courtier-ridden, priest-ridden, +minister-ridden, to being,—not king-ridden, less +courtier-ridden, priest-ridden only while it is our +pleasure to be so, and ruled by a ministry, every +tittle of whose power hangs upon the breath of +the people! One may bear even the debt, for a +short space, with patience, while blessed with the +sober certainty that the true instrument of rectification,—the +responsibility of rulers to the ruled, +is at length actually in our hands. One might +almost wish long life to the sinecure pensioners, +and be courteous about the three millions and a +half consumed in tax collecting, if one rested in +a comparison of the present with the past. But +there is enough before one’s eyes to remind one +how much remains to be done before the nation +shall receive full justice at the hands of its +guardians. By small savings in many quarters, +or by one of the several decided retrenchments +which are yet possible and imperative, some entire +tax, with its cost of collection, might ere this +have been spared, and many an individual and +many a family who wanted but this one additional +weight to crush them, might now have been +standing erect in their independence. What a +list of advertisements is here! Petitions for relief,—how +piteous! Offers of lodging, of service, +literary, commercial, and personal, how eager! +What tribes of little governesses, professing to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.120'>120</span>teach more than their young powers can possibly +have achieved! What trains of servants, vehemently +upholding their own honesty and accomplishments,—the +married boasting of having got +rid of their children to recommend themselves to +their employers,—ay, even the mother advertising +for sale the nourishment which God created for +her first-born! There is no saying how much of +all this is attributable to the weight of public +burdens, or to the mode of their pressure: but it +is enough that this craving for support co-exists +with unnecessary public burdens. It is enough, +were the craving aggravated a thousand-fold, +and the needless burden extenuated to the +smallest that could be estimated,—it is enough to +prove that no worthless pensioner,—worthless to +the nation at large,—should fill his snuff-box at +the public charge, while a single tax-payer is +distressed. For my part, I have no doubt that +many of the cases in this long list of urgent +appeals owe their sorrow to this cause. I have +no doubt that many a young girl’s first grief is +the seeing a deeper and a deeper gloom on her +father’s brow, as he fails more and more to bear +up against his share of the public burden, and +finds that he must at length bring himself to the +point, and surrender the child he has tenderly +nurtured, and dismiss her to seek a laborious and +precarious subsistence for herself. I have no +doubt that many of these boasting servants would +have reserved their own merits to bless their own +circle, but for the difficulty that parents, husbands +and brothers find in living on taxed articles. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.121'>121</span>While these things co-exist with the needless +expenditure of a single farthing, I, for one, shall +feel that, however thankful we may and ought to +be for our prodigious advance in freedom and +moral dignity, we have still to pray, day and +night, that the cry of the poor and the mirth of the +parasite do not rise up together against us. Too +fearful a retribution must await us, if we suffer +any more honest hearts to be crushed under the +chariot wheels of any ‘gay, licentious proud’—who +must have walked barefoot in the mud, if +their condition had been determined by their +deserts.</p> + +<p class='c001'>What place <i>is</i> this? I was not aware that these +pretty villas, and evergreen gardens, and trim +causeways stretched to so great a distance on +any London road. Bless me! where can we be? +I know that old oak. I must have been dreaming +if we have passed through Croydon without my +perceiving it. I shall be early at G.’s after all. +No! not I! It is some two hours later than I +thought. Travelling alone is the best pastime, +after all. I must tie up these newspapers. It is +a wonder they have not been claimed for the +Blue Lion yet.</p> + +<p class='c001'>My wife would say this is just the light for the +Abbey; but she has said so of every light, from +the broadest noon sunshine to the glimmer of the +slenderest crescent at midnight. Long may the +Abbey stand, quiet amidst the bustle of moving life, +a monitor speaking eloquently of the past, and +breathing low prophecies of the future! It is a +far nobler depository of records than the Tower: +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.122'>122</span>for here are brought into immediate contrast the +two tribes of kings,—the sovereigns by physical +force, and the sovereigns by moral force,—the +royal Henries, and the thrice royal Shakspeare and +Locke and Wilberforce;—and there remains also +space for some one who perchance may unite the +attributes of all;—who, by doing the highest work +of a ruler in making the people happy, may discharge +the commission of a seraph in leading them +on to be wise. Let not the towers totter, nor the +walls crumble, till such an one is there sung to his +rest by the requiem of a virtuous people! But the +noblest place of records can never be within four +walls, shut in from the stars. There is one, as +ancient, may be, as the Abbey; and perhaps +destined to witness its aisles laid open to the +sunrise, and its monuments to the shifting moonlight,—the +old oak that we passed just now. +My wife pities it, standing exposed in its old age +to the glare and the dust, when it was perhaps, in +its youth, the centre of a cool, green thicket. +But it is worth living through all things to +witness what that oak has seen. If no prophetic +eye were given to men, I think I would accept the +<i>elixir vitæ</i> for a chance of beholding the like. +As soon as that oak had a shade to offer, who +came to court it? The pilgrim on his painful way +to the southern shrine,—turning aside to pray +that the helpless might not be ravaged by the +spoiler in his absence? The nun who mourned +within her cell, and trembled in God’s sunshine, +and passed her blighted life in this sad alternation? +The child who slept on the turf,—safely, with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.123'>123</span>the adder in the neighbouring grass, and +the robber looking down from the tree in envy of +its innocence; innocence which, after all, was +poisoned by a worse fang than the adder’s, and +despoiled by the hand of a ruder bandit,—tyranny?—Who +came in a later age?—The +soldier reeking from the battle, and in search of +some nook in which to pray for his little ones +and die? The maiden, fleeing from royal lust, +and her father outlawed by royal vengeance? +What tales were brought when the neighbouring +stems mouldered away, and left space for the +winds to enter with their tidings from afar? +Rumours of heaped battle-fields across the sea, +and of the murmurings of the oppressed in their +comfortless homes, and the indignant remonstrance +of captives silenced in their proclamation +of the truth? And then, did weary sailors come +up from the sea, and, while they rested, talk of +peace? And merchants of prosperity? And +labourers of better days?—And now that the +old oak yields but a scanty shade,—children come +to pick up its acorns, and to make a ladder of its +mouldering sides; and even these infant tongues +can tell of what the people feel, and what the +people intend, and what the King desires for the +people, and what the ministers propose for the +people. The old oak has lived to see the people’s +day.—O! may the breath of heaven stir it +lightly;—may the spring rains fall softly as the +wintry snow;—may the thunderbolt spare it, +and the flash not dare to crisp its lightest leaf, +that it may endure to witness something of that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.124'>124</span>which is yet to come!—of the wisdom which shall +issue sternly from the abyss of poverty, smoothing +its rugged brow as it mounts to a milder and +brighter region; and of pleasure descending from +her painted cloud, sobering her mien as she visits +rank below rank, till she takes up her abode with +the lowliest in the form of content. If every +stone of yonder Abbey can be made to murmur +like the sea-shell to the awakened ear, disclosing +echoes of the requiems of ages, yet more may +this oak whisper from every leaf its records of +individual sorrows, of mutual hopes, and now of +common rejoicing;—a rejoicing which yet has +more in it of hope than of fulfilment. The day +of the people is come. The old oak survives to +complete its annals,—the Abbey has place for a +record—whether the people are wise to use their +day for the promotion of the great objects of +national association,—public order and social +improvement.</p> + +<p class='c001'>It was too late to dine at G.’s; so Reid +turned into the Abbey, and staid there till his own +footfall was the only sound that entertained the +bodily ear.</p> + +<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2.125'>125</span><i>Summary of Principles illustrated in +this volume.</i></p> + +<p class='c001'>It is necessary to the security and advancement +of a community that there should be an +expenditure of a portion of its wealth for purposes +of defence, of public order, and of social +improvement.</p> + +<p class='c001'>As public expenditure, though necessary, is +unproductive, it must be limited. And, as the +means of such expenditure are furnished by the +people for defined objects, its limit is easily ascertained.</p> + +<p class='c001'>That expenditure alone which is necessary to +defence, public order, and social improvement, +is justifiable.</p> + +<p class='c001'>Such a direction of the public expenditure +can be secured only by the public functionaries +who expend being made fully responsible to +the party in whose behalf they expend.</p> + +<p class='c001'>For want of this responsibility, the public +expenditure of an early age,—determined to +pageantry, war, and favouritism,—was excessive, +and perpetrated by the few in defiance of the +many.</p> + +<p class='c001'>For want of a due degree of this responsibility, +the public expenditure of an after age,—determined +to luxury, war, and patronage,—was +excessive, and perpetrated by the few in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2.126'>126</span>fear of the many, by deceiving and defrauding +them.</p> + +<p class='c001'>For want of a due degree of this responsibility, +the public expenditure of the present age,—determined +chiefly to the sustaining of burdens +imposed by a preceding age,—perpetuates +many abuses: and, though much ameliorated +by the less unequal distribution of power, the +public expenditure is yet as far from being +regulated to the greatest advantage of the +many, as the many are from exacting due responsibility +and service from the few.</p> + +<p class='c001'>When this service and responsibility shall be +duly exacted, there will be—</p> + +<p class='c001'>Necessary offices only, whose duties will be +clearly defined, fully accounted for, and liberally +rewarded:</p> + +<p class='c001'>Little patronage, and that little at the disposal +of the people:</p> + +<p class='c001'>No pomp,—at the expense of those who +can barely obtain support: but</p> + +<p class='c001'>Liberal provisions for the advancement of +national industry and intelligence.</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c000'> +</div> +<p class='c001'><a id='endnote'></a></p> +<div class='tnotes'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c001'>Hyphens appearing on a line or page break have beem removed if the +preponderance of other occurrences are unhyphenated. Those words +occurring midline are retained regardless of other occurrences. +The following variants were retained: schoolhouse / school-house, +grandchild / grand-child, eyebrows / eye-brows, evildoers / evil-doers, +bedside / bed-side, headache / head-ache.</p> + +<p class='c001'>On some occasions, a word spans a line break, but the hyphen itself +has gone missing. These fragments are joined appropriately without further +notice here.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and +are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.</p> + +<table class='table2'> +<colgroup> +<col class='colwidth12'> +<col class='colwidth69'> +<col class='colwidth18'> +</colgroup> + <tr> + <td class='c019' colspan='3'>BRIERY CREEK.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c020' colspan='3'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_26.21'></a><a href='#corr26.21'>26.21</a></td> + <td class='c021'>[“]There goes Dods!</td> + <td class='c020'>Removed.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_73.20'></a><a href='#corr73.20'>73.20</a></td> + <td class='c021'>if it did not come too late.[”]</td> + <td class='c020'>Added.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_94.5'></a><a href='#corr94.5'>94.5</a></td> + <td class='c021'>Dr. Sneyd was very thankf[n/u]l> for his aid.</td> + <td class='c020'>Inverted.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_97.3'></a><a href='#corr97.3'>97.3</a></td> + <td class='c021'>she had grown p[ro/or]megranates</td> + <td class='c020'>Transposed.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_101.10'></a><a href='#corr101.10'>101.10</a></td> + <td class='c021'>a damsel dressed in tawd[r]y finery</td> + <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_109.10'></a><a href='#corr109.10'>109.10</a></td> + <td class='c021'>which must give way.[”]</td> + <td class='c020'>Removed.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_152.3'></a><a href='#corr152.3'>152.3</a></td> + <td class='c021'>to be so remembered.[”]</td> + <td class='c020'>Added.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c020' colspan='3'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c019' colspan='3'>THE THREE AGES.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_50.27'></a><a href='#corr50.27'>50.27</a></td> + <td class='c021'>for his Maje[s]ty’s service was more</td> + <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_55.2'></a><a href='#corr55.2'>55.2</a></td> + <td class='c021'>in order to build[ing] a new one</td> + <td class='c020'>Removed.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'><a id='c_97.10'></a><a href='#corr97.10'>97.10</a></td> + <td class='c021'>the animal should be immediately sacrifi[c]ed</td> + <td class='c020'>Inserted.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c021'> </td> + <td class='c021'> </td> + <td class='c020'> </td> + </tr> +</table> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74238 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57e on 2024-07-20 14:56:52 GMT --> +</html> + |