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diff --git a/75740-h/75740-h.htm b/75740-h/75740-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0c22d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/75740-h/75740-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22824 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Draytons and the Davenants, +by Elizabeth Rundle Charles +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75740 ***</div> + +<h1> +<br><br> + THE<br> +<br> + Draytons and the Davenants<br> +</h1> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>A STORY OF</i><br> +<br> + THE CIVIL WARS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>By the Author of</i><br> + "CHRONICLES OF THE SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY,"<br> + ETC., ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + New York:<br> + <i>M. W. DODD, 506 BROADWAY.</i><br> + 1869.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +CARD FROM THE AUTHOR. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +"The Author of the 'Schonberg-Cotta Family' +wishes it to be generally known among the readers of her +books in America, that the American Editions issued by +Mr. M. W. Dodd, of New York, alone have the Author's +sanction." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + NOTICE.<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>This Volume will be followed next year by<br> + a supplementary Volume covering the<br> + period of the Commonwealth and<br> + the Restoration, and embracing<br> + incidents connected with<br> + the Early History<br> + of this country.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>Works by the same Author.</i> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family. +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +The Early Dawn. +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +Diary of Kitty Trevylyan. +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +Winifred Bertram. +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +The Draytons And The Davenants. +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> +On Both Sides Of The Sea. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Each of the above belongs to the "Cotta Family Series," +and are uniform in size and binding.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="smcap">Poems—"The Women of the Gospels,"</span> etc. <i>With<br> + other Poems not before published. 1 Vol. 16mo.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="smcap">Mary, The Handmaid Of The Lord.</span><br> + <i>One Vol. 16mo.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="smcap">The Song Without Words.</span><br> + <i>Dedicated to Children. Square 16mo</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +PUBLISHED BY M. W. DODD, +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>By arrangement with the Author.</i> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Contents<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + <a href="#chap01">Introductory</a><br> + <a href="#chap02">Chapter II.</a><br> + <a href="#chap03">Chapter III.</a><br> + <a href="#chap04">Chapter IV.</a><br> + <a href="#chap05">Chapter V.</a><br> + <a href="#chap06">Chapter VI.</a><br> + <a href="#chap07">Chapter VII.</a><br> + <a href="#chap08">Chapter VIII.</a><br> + <a href="#chap09">Chapter IX.</a><br> + <a href="#chap10">Chapter X.</a><br> + <a href="#chap11">Chapter XI.</a><br> + <a href="#chap12">Chapter XII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> + THE +<br> + Draytons and the Davenants +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +INTRODUCTORY. +</h3> + +<p> +Yesterday at noon, when the house +and all the land were still, and the men, +with the lads and lasses, were away at +the harvesting, and I sat alone, with +barred doors, for fear of the Indians (who have of +late shown themselves unfriendly), I chanced to +look up from my spinning-wheel through the open +window, across the creek on which our house +stands. And something, I scarce know what, carried +me back through the years and across the seas +to the old house on the borders of the Fen Country, +in the days of my childhood. It may have been +the quiet rustling of the sleepy air in the long +grasses by the water-side that wafted my spirit +back to where the English winds sigh and sough +among the reeds on the borders of the fens; it may +have been the shining of the smooth water, +furrowed by the track of the water-fowl, that set my +memory down beside the broad Mere, whose gleam +we could see from my chamber window. It may +have been the smell of this year's hay, which came +in in sweet, soft gusts through the lattice, that +floated me up to the top of the tiny haystack, made +of the waste grass in the orchard at old Netherby +Manor, at the foot of which Roger, my brother, +used to stand while I turned up the hay, assisted by +our Cousin Placidia (when she was condescending), +and by our Aunt Gretel, my mother's sister, +whenever we had need of her. Most probably it was +the hay. For, as the excellent Mr. Bunyan has +illustriously set forth in his work on the Holy War, +the soul hath five gates through which she holdeth +parlance with the outer world. And correspondent +with these outer gates from the sensible world in +space, meseemeth, are as many inner gates into the +inner, invisible world of thought and time; which +inner gates open simultaneously with the outer, by +the same spring. But of all the mystic springs +which unlock the wondrous inward world, none act +with such swift, secret magic as those of the Gate +of Odors. There stealeth in unobserved some delicate +perfume of familiar field flower or garden herb, +and straightway, or ere she is aware, the soul is +afar off in the world of the past, gathering posies +among the fields of childhood, or culling herbs in +the old corner of the old garden, to be laid, by +hands long since cold, in familiar chambers long +since tenanted by other owners. +</p> + +<p> +Wherefore, I deem, it was the new, sweet smell +of our New England hay which more than anything +carried me back to the old house in Old England, +and the days so long gone by. +</p> + +<p> +With my heart in far-off days, I continued my +spinning, as women are wont, the hand moving the +more swiftly for the speed wherewith the thoughts +travel, until my thoughts and my work came to a +pause together by the flax on my distaff being +exhausted. I went to an upper chamber for a fresh +stock, and while there my eye lighted on an old +chest, in the depths whereof lay many little volumes +of an old journal written by my hand through a +series of buried years. +</p> + +<p> +An irresistible attraction drew me to them; and +as I knelt before the old chest, and turned over +these yellow leaves, in some cases, eaten with worms, +and read the writing—the earlier portions of it in +large, laborious, childish characters, as if each letter +were a solemn symbol of weighty import—the later +scrawled hastily in the snatched intervals of a busy +and tangled life—I seemed to be looking through a +series of stained windows into the halls of an ancient +palace. On the windows were the familiar portraits +of a little eager girl, and a young maiden familiar +to me, yet strange. But the paintings were also +window-panes; and, after the first glance, the +painted panes seemed to vanish, and I saw only the +palace chambers on which they looked. Not empty +chambers, or shadowy, or silent, but solid, and +fresh, and vivid, and full of the stir of much life; +so that, when I laid down those old pages, and +looked out through the declining light over these +new shores, across this new sea, towards the far-off +England which still lives beyond, it seemed for a +moment as if the sun setting behind the wide western +woods, the strip of golden corn-fields, the reapers +returning slowly over the hill, the Indian +burial-mounds beside the creek, the trim new house, my +old quiet self, were the shadows, and that Old World, +in which my spirit had been sojourning, still the +living and the real. +</p> + +<p> +Neighbor Hartop's cheery voice roused me out +of my dream, and I hurried down to open the door, +and to set out the harvest supper. +</p> + +<p> +But as I look at the old crumpled papers again +to-day, the past lives again once more before me, +and I will not let it die. +</p> + +<p> +There is an hour in the day when the sun has set, +and all the dazzle of day is gone, and the dusk of +night has not set in, when I think the world looks +larger and clearer than at any other time. The sky +seems higher and more heavenly than at other +hours; and yet the earth, tinted here and there on +its high places with heavenly color, seems more to +belong to heaven. The little landscape within our +horizon becomes more manifestly a portion of a +wider world. And is there not such an hour in +life? Before it passes let me use the light, and fix +in my mind the scenes which will so soon vanish +into dreams and silence. +</p> + +<p> +The first entry in those old journals of mine is: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>The twenty-eighth day of March, in the year of our +Lord sixteen hundred and thirty-seven.</i>—On this day, twelve +years since, King Charles was proclaimed King at Whitehall +Gate, and in Cheapside; the while the rain fell in +heavy showers. My father heard the herald; and my +Aunt Dorothy well remembers the rain, because it spoiled +a slashed satin doublet of my father's (the last he ever +bought, having since then been habited more soberly); +also because many of the people said the weather was of +evil promise for the new reign. But father saith that is +a superstitious notion, unworthy of Christian people. +</p> + +<p> +"Also my father was present at the king's coronation, +on the 5th of February in the following year. Our French +Queen would not enter the Abbey on account of her +Popish faith. When the king was presented bareheaded +to the people, all were silent, none crying God save the +King, until the Earl of Arundel bade them; which my +father saith was a worse omen than if the clouds poured +down rivers." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +These in large characters, each letter formed with +conscientious pains. +</p> + +<p> +The second entry is diverse from the first. It +runs thus: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>April the tenth.</i>—The brindled cow hath died, leaving +an orphan calf. Aunt Gretel saith I may bring up the +calf for my own, with the help of Tib the dairy-woman." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The diversity between these entries recalls many +things to me. On the day before the first entry, +father brought to Roger my brother, my Cousin +Placidia, and me, three small books stitched neatly +together, and told us these were for us to use to +note down any remarkable events therein. "For," +said he, "we live in strange and notable times, and +you children may see things before you are grown, +yea, and perchance do or suffer such things as +history is made of." +</p> + +<p> +The stipulation was, that we were each to write +independently, and not to borrow from the other; +which was a hard covenant for me, who seldom +then meditated or did anything without the +co-operation or sanction of Roger. +</p> + +<p> +After much solitary pondering, therefore, I +arrived at the conclusion that history especially +concerns kings and queens, and lesser people only as +connected with them. That is, when there are +kings and queens. In the old Greek history I +remembered there were heroes who were not kings, +but I supposed they did instead. But the English +history was all made up of what happened to the +kings. One was shot while hunting; another was +murdered at Berkeley Castle; the little princes +were smothered in the Tower. King Edward +III. gained a great victory at Creçy in France; King +Henry V. gained another at Agincourt. Of course +other people were concerned in these things. Sir +Walter Tyrrel shot the arrow by accident that +killed King William, and some wicked people must +have murdered King Edward and the little princes +on purpose. And, of course, there were armies who +helped King Edward and King Henry to gain their +victories; but none of these people would have +been in history, I thought, except as connected +with the kings. At the same time I thought it was +of no use to relate things which no one belonging +to me had had anything to do with, because any +one else could have done that without my taking +the trouble to write a note-book at all. Therefore +it seemed to me that my father, and even my father's +slashed satin doublet, fairly became historical by +having been present at the King's proclamation, +and Aunt Dorothy by having commented thereon. +</p> + +<p> +The second entry was caused by an entirely different +theory of history, having its origin in a talk +with Roger. Roger said that we never can tell +what things are historical until afterwards, and that +therefore the only way was to note down what +honestly interests us. If these things prove +afterwards to be things which interest the world, our +story of them becomes part of the world's story, +and, as such, history to the people who care for us. +But to note down feeble echoes of far-off great +events, in which we think we ought to be interested, +is no human speech at all, Roger thought, but mere +monkey's imitative chattering. Every one, Roger +thinks, sees everything just a little differently from +any one else, and therefore if every one would +describe truly the little bit they do see, in that way, +by degrees, we might have a perfect picture. But +to copy what others have seen is simply to depart +with every fresh copy a little further from the +original. If, for instance, said he, the nurse of Julius +Cæsar had told us nursery stories of what Julius +Cæsar did when he was a little boy, it would have +been history; but the opinions of Julius Cæsar's +nurse on the politics of the Roman republic would +probably not have been history at all, but idle tattle. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to kings and queens being the only +true subjects for history, also, Roger was very +scornful. He had lately been paying a visit to +Mr. John Hampden, Mr. Oliver Cromwell, and others +of my father's friends, and he had returned full of +indignation against the tyranny of the court and +the prelates. The nation, he said wise men thought, +was not made for the king, but the king for the +nation. And, to say nothing of the Greek history, +the Bible history was certainly not filled up with +kings and queens, but with shepherds, herdsmen, +preachers, and soldiers; or if with kings, with kings +who had been shepherds and soldiers, and who +were saints and heroes as well as kings. +</p> + +<p> +All which reasoning decided me to make my next +entry concerning the calf of the brindled cow, +which at that time was the subject in the world +which honestly interested me the most. If my +father, or Roger, or Cousin Placidia, or Aunt Gretel, +ever became historical personages (and, as Roger +said, who could tell?), then anecdotes concerning +the calf of the cow which my father owned and +Aunt Gretel cherished, and which Cousin Placidia +thought it childish to care so much about, might +become, in a secondary sense, historical also. At +all events, I resolved I would not be like Julius +Cæsar's nurse, babbling of politics. +</p> + +<p> +The next entry was: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i> 4, 1637.—Dr. Antony has spent the evening +with us, and is to remain some days, at father's entreaty, +to recruit his strength; Aunt Dorothy having knowledge +of medicinal herbs, and Aunt Gretel of savory dishes, +which may be of use to him. He hath narrowly escaped +the jail-sickness, having of late visited many afflicted good +people in the prisons through the country, as is his +custom. 'Sick and in prison,' Dr. Antony saith, 'and ye +visited me,' is plain enough to read by the dimmest light, +whatever else is hard to understand. He told us of two +strange things which happened lately. At least they seem +very strange to me. +</p> + +<p> +"In the Palace Yard at Westminster, on the 30th of +last June (while Roger and I were making hay in the +pleasant sunshine of the orchard), Dr. Antony saw three +gentlemen stand in the pillory. The pillory is a wooden +frame set up on a platform, where wicked people are +fastened helplessly like savage dogs, with their heads and +hands coming through holes, to make them look ridiculous, +that people may mock and jeer at them. But father +and Dr. Anthony did not think these gentlemen wicked, +only at worst a little hasty in speech. And the people did +not think them ridiculous; they did not mock and jeer +at them, but kept very still, or wept. Their names were +Mr. Prynne, a gentleman at the bar, Dr. John Bastwick, a +physician; and Mr. Burton, a clergyman of a parish in +London. There they stood many hours while the hangman +came to each of them in turn and sawed off their +ears with a rough knife, and then burnt in two cruel +letters on their cheeks, S.L., for seditious libeler. +Dr. Anthony did not say the three gentlemen made one cry or +complaint, but bore themselves like brave men. But the +bravest of all, I think, was Mrs. Bastwick, the doctor's +wife. She stayed on the scaffold, and bore to see all her +husband's pain without a word or moan, lest she should +make him flinch, and then received his ears in her lap, +and kissed his poor wounded face before all the people. +Sweet, brave heart! I would fain have her home amongst +us here, and kiss her faithful hands like a queen's, and lay +my head on her brave heart, as if it were my mother's! +The sufferers made no moan; but the people broke their +pitiful silence once with an angry shout, and many times +with low, hushed groans, as if the pain and shame were +theirs (Dr. Anthony said), and they would remember it. +And Mr. Prynne, when the irons were burning his face, +said to the executioner, 'Cut me, tear me, I fear not thee; +I fear the fire of hell.' Mr. Burton spoke to the people +of God and his truth, and how it was worth while to +suffer rather than give up that. And at last he nearly +fainted, but when he was borne away into a house near, +he said, with good cheer, 'It is too hot to last.' (He +meant the persecution.) But the three gentlemen are now +shut up in three prisons—in Launceston, Lancaster, and +Caernarvon. And father and Dr. Antony say it is +Archbishop Laud who ordered it all to be done. But could +not the king have stopped it if he liked? +</p> + +<p> +"But will Roger and I ever turn over the hay again in +the pleasant June sunshine, without thinking how it +burned down on those poor, maimed and wounded gentlemen? +And one day I do hope I may see brave Mistress Bastwick +and tell her how I love and honor her, and how the +thought of her will help me to be brave and patient more +than a hundred sermons. +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Antony's other story was of one Jenny or Janet +Geddes, not a gentlewoman, for she kept an apple stall in +Edinburgh streets, and, moreover, does not appear to have +used good language at all. The Scotch, it seems, do not +like bishops, and, indeed, will not have bishops. But +Archbishop Laud and the king will make them. On +Sunday, the 23d of last July, a month since, one of +Archbishop Laud's bishops began the collect for the day in +St. Giles's Cathedral, Edinburgh. Jenny Geddes had brought +her folding stool (on which she sat by her apple stall, I +suppose) into the church, and when the bishop came out +in his robes (which Archbishop Laud likes of many colors, +while the Scotch, it seems, will have nothing but black), +she took up her stool and flung it at the bishop's head, +calling the service, the mass and the bishop a thief, and +wishing him very ill wishes in a curious Scottish dialect, +which, I suppose, I do not quite understand; for it +sounded like swearing, and if Jenny Geddes was a good woman +(although not a gentlewoman) she would scarcely, I should +think, swear, at least not in church. Whether the bishop +was hurt or not, no one seems to know or care. I suppose +the stool did not reach his head. But it stopped the +service. For all the people rose in great fury, not against +Jenny Geddes, but against the bishop, and the archbishop, +and the prayer-book, and against all bishops and all +prayers in books, not in Edinburgh only, but throughout the +land. Which shows, father said, that a great deal of +angry talk had been going on beforehand in the streets +around Jenny Geddes' apple stall. There must always be +some angry person, father said, to throw the folding stool, +but no one heeds the angry person unless there is +something to be angry about." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +A very long entry, which lost me many hours +and many pages. +</p> + +<p> +And about the passages in my own history which +it led to, not a word. Indeed, throughout these +journals I notice that it is more what they recall +than what they say which brings back the past to +me. I wonder if it is not thus with most diaries. +For to keep to Roger's rule of writing the things +which really interest us at the time seems to me +scarcely possible; because at the time we scarcely +know what things are most deeply interesting us, +and if we do, they are the very things we cannot +write about. Underneath the things we see and +think and speak about are the great, dim, silent +places out of which we ourselves are growing into +being, and where God is at work. The things we +are beginning to see we can not see, the things we +are feeling without knowing what we feel, the dim, +struggling thoughts we cannot utter or even think. +Without form and void is the state of a world being +created. When the world is created, the creation +is a history, and can be written. While it is being +created, it is chaos, and from without can only be +described as without form and void—from within, +in the chaos, not at all. The Creator only +understands chaos, and knows the chaos before the new +creation from the mere waste and ruin of the old. +</p> + +<p> +To understand the past is only partly possible for +the wisest men. +</p> + +<p> +To understand the present is only possible to +God. +</p> + +<p> +Because to understand the present would be to +foresee the future. To see through the chaos would +be to foresee the new creation. +</p> + +<p> +Wherefore it seems to me all diaries are of value +not as records, but as suggestions. And all +self-examination resolves itself at last into prayer, saying, +"What I see not, teach Thou me." +</p> + +<p> +"Search me and try me, and see Thou, and lead +Thou me." +</p> + +<p> +The passages in my history that this story of +Dr. Antony led to, arise before me as clearly as if they +happened yesterday, although in the Journal not a +hint of them is given. +</p> + +<p> +The Sunday after Dr. Antony had told us those +terrible things about the sufferings in the pillory, +Roger and I had gone to our usual Sunday afternoon +perch in an apple-tree in the corner of the +orchard furthest from the house. We had taken +with us for our contemplation a very terrible +delineation, which was the nearest approach to a +picture Aunt Dorothy would let us have on the +Sabbath-day. This she permitted us, partly, I believe, +because it was not the likeness of anything in +heaven or earth (nor, I hope, under the earth), +and partly on account of the very awful thoughts +it was calculated to inspire. +</p> + +<p> +It was a huge branching thing like our old family +tree. But at the root of the tree, where would be +the name of Adam or Noah, or Æneas of Troy, or +Cassibelaun, or whoever else was recognized as +the head of the family, stood the sacred name of +the Holy Trinity. From this trunk forked off two +leading branches, one representing the wicked and +the other the just, with the words written along +them to show that the very same mercies and +means of grace which produce repentance and faith +and love in the hearts of the just, produce +bitterness and false security and hatred of God in the +hearts of the wicked. Further and further the +branches diverged until one ended in an angel with +wings, and the other in a mouth of a horrible +hobgoblin with a whale's mouth, a dragon's claws, +and a lion's teeth, and both were united by the +lines,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Whether to heaven or hell you bend,<br> + God will have glory in the end."*<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* A similar tree is to be seen in the beginning of Bunyan'a +Pilgrim's Progress, in the edition of 1698. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Most terrible was this delineation to me, sitting +that sunny autumn day in the apple-tree, especially +because if you were once on the wrong branch, it +was not at all pointed out how you were ever to +get on the right. All seemed as irrevocable and +inevitable as that point in our own pedigree where +Edwy, the eldest son, became a Benedictine monk +and vanished into a thin flourish, and Walter, the +second son, married Adalgiva, heiress of Netherby +Manor, and branched off into us. And it looked so +terribly (with unutterable terror I felt it) as if +it mattered as little to the Holy Trinity what +became of any one of us, as to Cassibelaun or Noah +what became of his descendants, Edwy or Walter. +</p> + +<p> +So it happened that Roger and I sat very +awe-stricken and still in our perch in the apple-tree, +while the wind fluttered the green leaves around +us, and the sunbeams ripened the rosy apples for +their work, and then danced in and out on the grass +below for their play. And I remember as if it were +yesterday how the thought shuddered through my +heart, that the same sun which was shining on +Roger and me, on that last 30th of June, making hay +in the orchard, was at that very same moment +scorching those poor wounded gentlemen in the +pillory in the Palace Yard, and not losing a whit +of its glory to us by all the anguish it was inflicting, +like a blazing furnace, on them. And if this +fearful tree were true, did it not seem as if it were +the same with God? +</p> + +<p> +I sat some time silent under the weight of this +dread. It made me shiver with cold in the +sunshine, and at length I could keep it in no longer, +and said to Roger, in a whisper, for I was half afraid +to hear my own words,— +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roger, why did not God kill the devil?" +</p> + +<p> +At that moment something shook the tree, and I +clung to Roger in terror. I could not see what it was +from among the thick leaves where we were sitting. +I trembled at the echo of my own voice. The dark +thoughts within seemed to have brought night with +its nameless terrors into the heart of day. But +Roger leant down from the branch, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Cousin Placidia! For shame! You shook +the tree on purpose. I heard the apples fall on +the ground, and you are picking them up. That is +cheating." +</p> + +<p> +For the fallen fruit was the right of us, children. +</p> + +<p> +Said Placidia in a smooth, unmoved voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"I came against the stem of the tree by +accident, and perhaps I did shake it a little more +than I need, when I heard what Olive said. They +were very wicked words, and I shall tell Aunt Dorothy." +</p> + +<p> +"You may tell any one you like," said Roger +indignantly. "Olive did not mean to say anything +wrong. You are cruel enough to sit in the +Star-chamber, Placidia." +</p> + +<p> +"She is exactly like our gray cat," he continued +to me, as she glided away, "with her soft, noiseless +ways, and her stealthy, steady following of her own +interests. When the fowl-house was burnt down +last year, and the turkeys were screaming, and the +hens cackling, and every one flying hither and +thither trying to save somebody or something, I +saw the gray cat quietly licking her lips in a corner +over a poor singed chicken. I believe she thought +the whole thing had been set on foot to roast her +supper. And Placidia would have done precisely +the same. If London were on fire, and she in it, I +believe she would contrive to get her supper roasted +on the cinders. And the provoking thing is, she +thinks no one sees." +</p> + +<p> +Roger was not often vehement in speech, but +Placidia was our standing grievance, his and mine. +There were certain little unfairnesses, not quite +cheating, certain little meannesses, not quite +dishonesties, and certain little prevarications, not quite +lies, which always excited his greatest wrath, +especially when, as often happened, I was the loser or +the sufferer by them. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think she will tell Aunt Dorothy?" I +said, for that very morning Placidia and I had had +a quarrel, she having pinched my arm where it could +not be seen, and I having to my shame bitten her +finger where it could be seen. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, and I don't care," said Roger +loftily. "What is the good of minding? I suppose +we must all go through a certain quantity of +punishment, Olive, and it is to be hoped it will do +us good for the future, if we did not deserve it by +the past. At least Aunt Dorothy says so. Go on +with what you were saying." +</p> + +<p> +So I recurred to my question. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roger, I wish I knew why God did not destroy +the devil in the beginning, or at least not let +him come into the garden. Because, then, nothing +would have gone wrong, would it? Eve would not +have eaten the fruit, Mr. Prynne and Dr. Bastwick +would not have been set in the pillory. And I +should not, most likely, have quarrelled with +Placidia, because, I suppose, Placidia would not have +been provoking." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I knew why my Father lets Cousin +Placidia live with us, and always be making us do +wrong," said Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"She is an orphan, and some one must +take care of her, you know," I said. "Besides, +surely, Father has reasons, only we don't always +know." +</p> + +<p> +"And I suppose God has reasons," said Roger +reverently, "only we don't always know." +</p> + +<p> +"But the devil is all bad," said I, "and will +never be better; and Cousin Placidia may. It +could not be for the devil's own sake God did not +kill him, for he only gets worse; and I do not see +how it could be for ours." +</p> + +<p> +"The devil was not always the devil, Olive," said +Roger, after thinking a little while. "He was an +angel at first." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, O Roger," said I eagerly, for the perplexity +lay heavy on my heart, "why did not God stop +the devil from ever being the devil? That would +have been better than anything." +</p> + +<p> +Roger made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot be because God could not," I pursued, +"because Aunt Dorothy says He can do +everything. And it cannot be because He would +not, because Aunt Gretel says He hates to see +any one do wrong or be unhappy. But there +must be some reason; and if we only knew it, +I think everything else would become quite +plain." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not see the reason, Olive," said Roger, +after a long pause. "I cannot see it in the least. I +remember hearing two or three people discuss it +once with Father and Aunt Dorothy; and I think +they all thought they explained it. But no one +thought any one else did. And they used +exceedingly long and learned words, longer and +more learned the further they went on. But they +could not agree at all, and at last they became +angry, so that I never heard the end. But in two +or three years, you know, I am going to Oxford, +and then I will try and find out the reason. And +when I have found it out, Olive, I will be sure to +tell you." +</p> + +<p> +"But that is not at all the most perplexing thing +to me, Olive," he began, after a little silence; +"because, after all, if we or the angels were to be +persons and not things, I don't see how it could be +helped that we might do wrong if we liked. +The great puzzle to me is, why we do anything, +or if we can help doing anything we do; that is, +if we are really persons at all, and not a kind of +puppets." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course we are not puppets, Roger," said I. +"Of course we can help doing things if we like. I +do not think that is any puzzle at all. I could +have helped biting Placidia's finger if I had +liked—that is, if I had tried. And that is what makes it +wrong." +</p> + +<p> +"But you did not like it," said Roger, "and so +you did not help it. And what was to make you +like to help it, if you did not?" +</p> + +<p> +"If I had been good, I should not have liked +to hurt Placidia, however provoking she was," I +said. +</p> + +<p> +"And what is to be good?" said he. +</p> + +<p> +"To like to do right," I said. "I think that is to +be good." +</p> + +<p> +"But what is to make you like to do right?" +</p> + +<p> +"Being good, to be sure," said I, feeling myself +helplessly drawn into the whirlpool. +</p> + +<p> +"That is going round and round, and coming to +nothing," said Roger. "But leaving alone about +right and wrong, what is to make you do anything?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because I choose," said I, "or some one else +chooses." +</p> + +<p> +"But what makes you choose?" said he. "What +made you choose, for instance, to come here this +afternoon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because you wished it, and because it was +a fine afternoon; and we always do when it is," +said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you chose it because of something in you +which makes you like to please me, and because the +sun was shining. Neither of which you could help; +therefore you did not really choose at all." +</p> + +<p> +"I <i>did</i> choose, Roger," said I. "I might have +felt cross, and chosen to disappoint you, if I had +liked." +</p> + +<p> +"But you are not cross; you are good-tempered, +on the whole, so you could not help liking to please +me." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am cross sometimes with Placidia," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"That is because, as Aunt Gretel says, your +temper is like what our mother's was, quick but +sweet," said he; "and that is a deeper puzzle still, +because it goes further back than you and your +character, to our mother's character, that is to say; +and if to hers, no one can say how much further, +probably as far as Eve." +</p> + +<p> +"But sometimes," said I, "for instance, when you +talk like this, my temper is tempted to be cross even +with you, Roger. But I choose to keep my temper, +and it must be I myself that choose, and not my +temper or my mother's." +</p> + +<p> +"That is because of the two motives, the one +which inclines you to keep your temper is stronger +than the one which inclines you to lose it," said he. +"But there is always something before your choice +to make you choose, so that really you must choose +what you do, and therefore you do not really choose +at all." +</p> + +<p> +"But I do choose, Roger," said I. "I choose this +instant to jump down from this tree—so—and go +home." +</p> + +<p> +"That proves nothing," said he, following me +down from the tree with provoking coolness; "you +chose to jump down, because there is a wilful +feeling in you which made you choose it, and that is +part of your character, and probably can be traced +back to Eve, and proves exactly what I say." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not free to do right or wrong, or anything, +Roger!" I said. "Then I might as well be a cat, +or a tree, or a stone." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you might, if you were," said Roger drily. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there no way out of the puzzle, Roger?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not see any," he said; "at least not by +thinking. But there seems to me no end to the +puzzles, if one begins to think." +</p> + +<p> +He did not seem to mind it at all, but rather to +enjoy it, as if it were a mere tossing of mental balls +and catching them. +</p> + +<p> +But I, on the other hand, was in great bewilderment +and heaviness, for I felt like being a ball +myself, tossed helplessly round and round, without +seeing any beginning or end to it, and it made me +very unhappy. +</p> + +<p> +We came back to the house at supper-time with a +vague sense of some judgment hanging over our +heads. Aunt Dorothy met us in the porch with a +switch in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Naughty children," said she, "Placidia says she +heard you using profane language in the apple-tree, +taking God's holy name in vain." +</p> + +<p> +"I was not speaking so much of God, Aunt +Dorothy," said I in confusion, "as of the devil." +</p> + +<p> +"Worse again," said Aunt Dorothy, "that is +swearing downright. It is as bad as the cavaliers +at the Court. Hold out your hand, Roger; and, +Olive, go to bed without supper." +</p> + +<p> +Roger scorned any self-defence. He held out his +hand, and received three sharp switches without +flinching. Only at the end he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Now I shall tell my father how Placidia stole +the apples and get justice done to Olive." +</p> + +<p> +"You will tell your father nothing, sir," said +Aunt Dorothy. "I have sent Placidia to bed +three hours ago for tale-bearing, and given her +the chapter in the Proverbs to learn. And you +will sit down and learn the same, and both of you +say it to me to-morrow morning before breakfast." +</p> + +<p> +This was what Aunt Dorothy considered even-handed +justice. Time, she said, was too precious +to spend in searching out the rights of children's +quarrels, and human nature being depraved as it is, +all accusations had probably some ground of truth, +and all accusers some wrong motive. And in all +quarrels there is always, said she, fault on both +sides. She therefore punished accused and accuser +alike, without further investigation. I have +observed something of the same plan pursued since by +some persons who aspire to the character of impartial +historians. But it never struck me as quite +fair in the historians or in Aunt Dorothy. However, +I must say, in Aunt Dorothy's case, this mode +of administering justice had a tendency to check +accusations. It must have been an unusually strong +desire of vengeance, or sense of wrong, which +induced us to draw up an indictment which was sure +to be visited with equal severity on plaintiff and +defendant. And although our sense of justice was +not satisfied, and Roger and I in consequence +formed ourselves into a permanent Committee of +Grievances, the peace of the household was perhaps on +the whole promoted by the system. The embittering +effects were, moreover, softened in our case by +the presence of other counteracting elements. +</p> + +<p> +I had not been long in bed according to the +decrees of Justice in the person of Aunt Dorothy, when +Mercy, in the person of Aunt Gretel, came to bind +up my wounds. +</p> + +<p> +"Olive, my little one," said she, sitting down on +the side of my bed, "what hast thou been saying? +Thou wouldst not surely say anything ungrateful +against the dear Lord and Saviour?" +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon I buried my face in the bed-clothes, +and sobbed so that the bed shook under me. +</p> + +<p> +She took my hand, and bending over me, said +tenderly,— +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little one! Thou must not break thy +heart. The good Lord will forgive, Olive, will +forgive all. Tell me what it is, darling, and don't be +afraid." +</p> + +<p> +Still I sobbed on, when she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"If thou canst not tell me, tell the dear Saviour. +He is gentler than poor Aunt Gretel, and knows +thee better. Only do not be afraid of Him, +nothing grieves Him like that, sweet heart; +anything but that." +</p> + +<p> +Then I grew a little calmer, and moaned out,— +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, Aunt Gretel, I did not mean anything +wicked. But it is so hard to understand. +There are so many things I cannot make out. +And oh, if I should be on the wrong side of the +tree after all! If I should be on the wrong side of +the tree!" +</p> + +<p> +And at the thought my sobs burst forth afresh. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel was sorely perplexed. She said— +</p> + +<p> +"What tree, little one? Where is thy poor +brain wandering?" +</p> + +<p> +"The tree with God at the beginning," said I, +"and with heaven at one end and hell at the other, +and no way to cross over if once you get wrong, +and God never seeming to mind." +</p> + +<p> +"A very wicked tree," said Aunt Gretel. "I +never heard of it. The only tree in the Bible is +the Tree of Life. And of that the Blessed Lord +will give freely to every one who comes—the fruit +for life and the leaves for healing. Never mind the +other, sweet heart." +</p> + +<p> +"If there were only a way across!" said I, "and +if I could be sure God did care!" +</p> + +<p> +"There is a way across, my lamb," said she. +"Only it is not a way. It is but a step. It is a +look. It is a touch. For the way across is the +blessed Saviour Himself. And He is always nearer +than I am now, if you could only see." +</p> + +<p> +"And God does care," said I, "whether we are +lost or saved?" +</p> + +<p> +"Care! little Olive," said she. "Hast thou +forgotten the manner and the cross? That comes of +trying to see back to the beginning. <i>He</i> was in +the beginning, sweet heart, but not thou or I! He +is the beginning every day and for ever to us. +Look to Him. His face is shining on you now, +watching you tenderly as if it were your mother's, +my poor motherless lamb. Whatever else is dark, +that is plain. And you never meant to grieve or +question Him! You did not mean to say the +darkness was in Him, Olive! You never meant that. +Put the darkness anywhere but there, sweet +heart—anywhere but there. There is darkness enough, +in good sooth. But in Him is no darkness at all." And +then she murmured, half to herself, "It is very +strange, Dr. Luther made it all so plain, more than +a hundred years ago. And it seems as if it all had +to be done over again." +</p> + +<p> +"Didst thou say thy prayers, my lamb?" she added. +</p> + +<p> +I had. But it was sweet to kneel down with +Aunt Gretel again, with her arms and her warm +dress folded around me, and say the words after +her, the Our Father, and the prayer for father and +Roger and all. +</p> + +<p> +But when I came to ask a blessing on Cousin +Placidia, my lips seemed unable to frame the words. +</p> + +<p> +"Thou didst not pray for thy cousin, Olive," said +Aunt Gretel. +</p> + +<p> +"She is so very difficult to love, Aunt Gretel," +said I; "she often makes me do wrong. And I +bit her finger this morning." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little one," said she, "ah, yes! It is +always hardest to forgive those we have hurt." +</p> + +<p> +"But she pinched my arm where no one could +see," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"It will not help thee to think of that, poor +lamb," said Aunt Gretel, "what thou hast to do is +to forgive. Think of what will help thee to do +that." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't think of anything that helps me," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Dost thou wish anything bad to happen to thy +cousin?" said Aunt Gretel, after a pause. "If thou +couldst bring trouble on her by praying for it, +wouldst thou do it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not from God," said I. "Of course I could +not ask anything bad from God." +</p> + +<p> +"Then wouldst thou ask thy father to send her +away, poor neglected orphan child that she was?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, Aunt Gretel," I said, "not that. But I +should like to see her punished by Aunt Dorothy." +</p> + +<p> +"How much?" said Aunt Gretel. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure. Only as much as she quite deserves." +</p> + +<p> +"That would be a good deal for us all," said she; +"perhaps even for thee a little more than going to +bed one night without supper." +</p> + +<p> +"Then until she was good," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"Thou wishest thy cousin to be good, then?" +said Aunt Gretel. "Then thou canst at least pray +for that." +</p> + +<p> +"It would make the house like the Garden of +Eden, I think," I said, "before the tempter came, if +Placidia were only not so provoking." +</p> + +<p> +"Would it?" said she, gravely. "Art thou then +always so good? Then, perhaps, thou canst ask +that thy cousin's trespasses may be forgiven, even +if <i>thou</i> canst not forgive her, and hast <i>none of thine +own</i> to be forgiven!" +</p> + +<p> +"O, Aunt Gretel." said I, suddenly perceiving +her meaning, "I see it all now! It is the bit of ice +in my own heart that made everything dark and +cold to me. It is the bit of ice in my own heart!" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled and folded me to her heart. +</p> + +<p> +And then she prayed once more for Placidia the +orphan, and for me, and Roger, "that God in His +great pity would bless us and forgive us, and make +us good and loving, and like Himself and His dear +Son who suffered for us and bore our sins." +</p> + +<p> +And after that I did not so much care even +whether Roger brought the answer he promised +from Oxford or not. +</p> + +<p> +And it flashed on me for an instant, as if the +answer to Roger's other puzzle might come somehow +from the same point; as if it answered everything +to the heart to think that light and not darkness, +love and not necessity, are at the innermost +heart of all. For love is at once perfect freedom +and inevitable necessity. +</p> + +<p> +But before I fell asleep, while Aunt Gretel was +still sitting on the bedside with her knitting, I +heard her say to herself— +</p> + +<p> +"Not so very strange—not so strange after all, +although Dr. Luther did make it all clear as +sunshine more than a hundred years ago. It is that +bit of ice in the heart, that bit of ice that is always +freezing afresh in the heart." +</p> + +<p> +But Aunt Dorothy, on a night's consideration, +thought the affair of the apple-tree too important +to be passed over, as most of our childish quarrels +were, without troubling my father about them. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly the next morning we were summoned +into my father's private room, where he +received his rents as a landlord, and sentenced +offenders as a magistrate, and kept his law-books, +and many other great hereditary folios on divinity, +philosophy, and things in general. A very solemn +proceeding for me that morning, my conscience +oppressed with a sense of having done some wrong +intentionally, and I knew not how much more +without intending it. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually, Roger and I standing on the other +side of the table, with the law-books and the +mathematical instruments my father was so fond of +between us, he drew from us what had been the +subject of our conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Then, to my surprise, as we stood awaiting our +sentence, he called me gently to him, and, seating +me on his knee, pointed out a paper spread on a +huge folio volume, which lay open before him. It +was a diagram of the sun and the planets, with the +four moons of Jupiter, the earth and the moon, +complicated by circles and lines mysteriously +intersecting each other. +</p> + +<p> +"Olive," said he, "be so good as to explain that +to me. It is made by a gentleman who learned about +it from the great astronomer Galileo, and is meant +to explain how the earth and the sun are kept in +their places." I looked at the complication of +figures and lines and magical-looking signs, and then +in his face to see what he could mean. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not understand it?" he said, as if he +were surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"Father," said I, "a little child like me!" +</p> + +<p> +"And yet this is only a drawing of a little corner +of the world, Olive—the sun and the earth and a +few of the planets in the nook of the world in which +we live. The whole universe is a good deal harder +to understand than this." +</p> + +<p> +"Father," said I, ashamed and blushing, "indeed +I never thought I could understand these things—at +least not yet; I only thought you might, or +some wise people somewhere." +</p> + +<p> +"Olive," said he, in a low voice, tenderly and +reverently, stroking my head while he spoke, "before +the great mysteries you and Roger have fallen +on, I can only wonder, and wait, and say like you, +'<i>Father, a little child like me!</i>' And I do not think +the great Galileo himself could do much more." +</p> + +<p> +But to Roger he said, rising and laying his hand +on his shoulder— +</p> + +<p> +"Exercise your wits as much as you can, my +boy; but there are two kinds of roads I advise you +for the most part to eschew. One kind are the +roads that lead to the edge of the great darkness +which skirts our little patch of light on every side. +The other are the roads that go in a circle, leading +you round and round with much toil to the point +from which you started. I do not say, never travel +on these—you cannot always help it. But for the +most part exercise yourself on the roads which lead +somewhere. The exercise is as good, and the result +better." And he was about to send us away. +</p> + +<p> +But Aunt Dorothy was not at all satisfied. +"That Signor Galileo was a very dangerous +person," she said. "He said the sun went round, +and the earth stood still, which was contrary at +once to common sense, the five senses, and Scripture; +and if chits like Roger and me were allowed +to enter on such false philosophy at our age, where +should we have wandered at hers?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not much further, Sister Dorothy," said my +Father, "if they reached the age of Methuselah. +Not much further into the question, and not much +nearer the answer." +</p> + +<p> +"I see no difficulty in the question at all," said +Aunt Dorothy. "The Almighty does everything +because it is His will to do it. And we can do +nothing except He wills us to do it. Which answers +Olive and Roger at once. All doubts are sins, +and ought to be crushed at the beginning." +</p> + +<p> +"How would you do this, Sister Dorothy?" asked +my Father; "a good many persons have tried it +before and failed." +</p> + +<p> +"How! The simplest thing in the world," +said Aunt Dorothy. "In the first place, set +people to work, so that they have no time for +such foolish questions, and genealogies, and +contentions." +</p> + +<p> +"A wholesome plan, which seems to be very +generally pursued with regard to the whole human +race," said Father. "It is mercifully provided that +those who have leisure for such questions are few. +But what else would you do?" +</p> + +<p> +"For the children there is the switch," said Aunt +Dorothy. "They would be thankful enough for it +when they grew wiser." +</p> + +<p> +"So think the Pope and Archbishop Laud," replied +my Father; "and so they set up the Inquisition +and the Star Chamber." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no fault to find with the Inquisition and +the Star Chamber," said Aunt Dorothy, "if they +would only punish the right people." +</p> + +<p> +"But sometimes we learn we have been mistaken +ourselves," said Father. "How can we +be sure we are absolutely right about everything?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>I am</i>," said Aunt Dorothy, emphatically. "Thank +Heaven I have not a doubt about anything. Heresy +is worse than treason, for it is treason against God; +and worse than murder, for it is the murder of +immortal souls. The fault of the Pope and Archbishop +Laud is that they are heretics themselves, and +punish the wrong people." +</p> + +<p> +This was a point often reached in discussions +between my Father and Aunt Dorothy, but this +time it was happily closed by the clatter of a +horse's hoofs on the pavement of the court before +the house. +</p> + +<p> +My father's face brightened, and he rose hastily, +exclaiming, "A welcome guest, Sister Dorothy—the +Lord of the Fens—sot the table in the wainscoted +parlour." +</p> + +<p> +He left the room, and we children watched a tall, +stalwart gentleman, well known to us, with a +healthy, sunburnt face, alight from his horse. +</p> + +<p> +"The Lord of the Fens, indeed!" said Aunt +Dorothy in a disappointed tone, as she looked out of +the window. "Why, it is only Mr. Oliver Cromwell +of Ely, with his coat as slovenly as usual, and +his hat without a hat-band. I am as much against +gewgaws as any one. If I had my way, not a +slashed doublet, or ribboned hose, or feather, or +lace, should be seen in the kingdom. But there is +reason in all things. Gentlemen should look like +gentlemen, and a hat without a hat-band is going +too far, in all conscience. The wainscoted parlour, +in good sooth! Why, his boots are covered with +mud, and I dare warrant it, he will never think of +rubbing them on the straw in the hall. And they +will get talking, no one knows how long, about that +everlasting draining of the Fens. I can't think +why they won't let the Fens alone. They did very +well for our fathers as they were, and they were +better men than we see now-a-days; and if the +Almighty made the Fens wet, I suppose he meant +them to be wet; and people had better take care +how they run against His designs. And they say +the king is against it, or against somebody +concerned in it, so that there is no knowing what it +may lead to. All Scotland in a tumult, and the +godly languishing in prison, and our parson putting +on some new furbelow and setting up some new +fandango every Sabbath; and a godly gentleman +like Mr. Oliver Cromwell (for he is that, I don't +deny) to have nothing better to do than to try and +squeeze a few acres more of dry land out of the Fens!" +</p> + +<p> +But Roger whispered to me,— +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Hampden says Mr. Cromwell would be the +greatest man in England if things should come to +the worst, and there should be any disturbance with +the king." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment my father called Roger, and to +his delight he was allowed to accompany him and +our guest over the farm. +</p> + +<p> +And the next entry in my Journal is this,— +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Mr. Oliver Cromwell of Ely was at our house yesterday. +Roger walked over the farm with him and my father. +Their discourse was concerning twenty shillings which the +king wants to oblige Mr. Hampden of Great Hampden to +lend him, which Mr. Hampden will not, not because he +cannot afford it, but because the king would then be able +to make every one lend him money whether they like it or +not, or whether they are able or not. They call it the +ship-money. Concerning this and also concerning some +good men, ministers or lecturers, whom Mr. Cromwell +wishes to set to preach the Gospel to the people in places +where no one else preaches, so that they can understand, +but whom Archbishop Laud has silenced with fines and +many threats, Aunt Dorothy thinks it a pity godly men +like Mr. Hampden and Mr. Cromwell should concern +themselves about such poor worldly things as shillings and +pence. Regarding the lecturers, she says that they have +more reason. Only, she says, it is a wonder to her they +will begin with such small insignificant things. Let them +set to work, root and branch (says she), against Popery +under false names and in high places, and these lesser +matters will take care of themselves. But father says, +'poor worldly things' are just the things by which we +are tried and proved whether we will be faithful to the +high unworldly calling or not. And 'small insignificant +things' are the beginnings of everything that lives and +endures, from a British oak to the kingdom of heaven." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>May Day</i>, 1638. +</p> + +<p> +"This morning, before break of day, I went to +bathe my face in the May dew by the Lady +Well. There I met Lettice Davenant with +her maidens. She was dressed in a kirtle of +grass-green silk, with a blue taffetas petticoat, and her +eyes were like wet violets, and her brown hair like wavy +tangles of soft glossy unspun silk, specked and woven with +gold, and she looked like a sweet May flower, just lifting +itself out of its green sheath into the sunshine, and all the +colours changing and blending into each other, as they do +in the flowers. And she laid her soft, little hand in mine, +and said her mother loved mine, and she wished I would +love her, and be her friend. And she kissed me with her +dear, sweet, little mouth, like a rosebud—like a child's. +And I held her close in my arms, with her silky hair +falling on my shoulder. She is just so much shorter than I +am. And her heart beat on mine. And I will love her +all my life. No wonder Roger thinks her fair. +</p> + +<p> +"I will love her all my life, whatever Aunt Dorothy +says. +</p> + +<p> +"Firstly, because I cannot help it. And secondly, +because I am sure it is right—right—right to love; always +right to love—to love as much, as dearly, as long, as deep +as we can. Always right to love, never right to despise, +or keep aloof, or turn aside. Sometimes right to hate, at +least I think so; sometimes right to be angry, I am sure +of that; but never right to despise, and always—always +right to love. +</p> + +<p> +"For Roger and I have looked well all through the +Gospels to see. And the Pharisee despised, the Priest and +the Levite passed by, and the disciples said once or twice, +send her away. But the Lord drew near, called them to +Him, touched, took in His arms, loved, always loved. +Loved when they were wandering—loved when they would +not come; loved even when they 'went away.' +</p> + +<p> +"And Aunt Gretel thinks the same. Only I sometimes +wish we had lived in the times she speaks of, told of in +certain Family Chronicles of hers, a century old. For +then it was the people with the wrong religion who +despised others, and were harsh and severe. And they went +into convents, which must have been a great relief to the +rest of the family. And now it seems to be the people +with the right religion who do like the Pharisees. And +they stay at home, which is more difficult to understand, +and more unpleasant to bear." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +A very vehement utterance, crossed through with +repentant lines in after times, but still quite +legible, and of interest to me for the vanished outer +world of life, and the tumultuous inward world of +revolt it recalls. +</p> + +<p> +For that May morning, on my way home through +the wood, I met the village lads and lasses bringing +home the May; and when I reached the house, it +was late; the serving men and maidens had finished +their meal at the long table in the hall, and Aunt +Dorothy sat at one end on the table, which crossed +it at the top, and span; and Cousin Placidia sat +silent at the other end and span, the whirr of their +spinning-wheels distinctly reproaching me in a +steady hum of displeasure, until I was constrained +to reply to it and to Aunt Dorothy's silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy, prithee, forgive me. I only went +to bathe my face in the May dew by the Lady Well. +And there I met Lettice Davenant." +</p> + +<p> +"I never reproached thee, child," said Aunt Dorothy. +"There is too much license in this house for +that. But this, I will say, the excuse is worse than +the fault. How often have I told thee not to stain +thy lips with the idolatrous title of that well? And +as to bathing thy face in the May dew, Olive, it is +Popery—sheer Popery." +</p> + +<p> +"Not Popery, sister Dorothy," said my Father, +looking up from his sheet of news just brought from +London. "Not Popery; Paganism. The custom +dates back to the ancient Romans, probably to the +festival of the goddess Maia, mother of Mercury, +but here antiquarians are divided." +</p> + +<p> +"And well they may be," said Aunt Dorothy, +"what but sects and divisions can be expected from +such tampering with vanities and idolatries? For +my part, it matters little to me whether the custom +dates to the modern or the ancient Romans, or to +the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Amorites, and the +Jebusites. Whoever painted the idol, I have little +doubt who made it. And of the two I like the +unchristened idols best." +</p> + +<p> +"Not quite, sister Dorothy, not always," remonstrated +my Father, "it is certainly a great mistake +to worship the Virgin Mary. But the Moloch to +whom they burned little children was worse, much +worse." +</p> + +<p> +"If he was, the less we hear about him the better, +Brother," said Aunt Dorothy. "But as to the burning +I see little difference. You can see the black +sites of Queen Mary's fires still. And Lettice +Davenant has been up at the court of the new Queen +Marie (as they call her);—an unlucky name for +England. And little good she or hers are like to +do to our Olive." +</p> + +<p> +On which I turned wholly into a boiling caldron +of indignation; and to what it might have led I +know not, had not Aunt Gretel at that moment +intervened, ruddy from the kitchen fire, and with the +glow of a pleasant purpose in her kindly blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"They are like to have the blithest May to-day +they have seen for many a year," said she. "Our +Margery, the daughter of Tib the dairywoman, is +to be queen. And a better maiden or a sweeter +face there is not in all the country side. And Dickon, +the gardener's son at the Hall, is her sweetheart, +and the Lady Lucy Davenant has let them deck +the bower with posies from her own garden, and +they are coming from the Hall, the Lady Lucy and +Sir Walter, and Mistress Lettice and her five +brothers, to see the jollity." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell Tib's goodman to broach a barrel of the +best ale, sister Gretel," said my Father, "and we +will go and see." +</p> + +<p> +This was said in the tone Aunt Dorothy never +answered, and she made no remonstrance except +through the whirr of her spinning-wheel, which +always seemed to Roger and me to be a kind of +"<i>famulus</i>," or a second-self to Aunt Dorothy (of +course of a white not a black kind), saying the thing +she meant but would not say, and in a thousand +ways spinning out and completing, not her thread +only, but her life and thought. +</p> + +<p> +My Father soon rose and went to the farm. Aunt +Dorothy span silent at one end of the table, and +Cousin Placidia at the other; while I sat too indignant +to eat anything, and Aunt Gretel moved about +in a helpless, conciliatory state between. +</p> + +<p> +"The Bible does speak of being merry, sister +Dorothy," said she at length, metaphorically putting +her foot into Aunt Dorothy's spiritual spinning, as +she was wont to do. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt it does," said Aunt Dorothy. "'Is +any merry among you, let him sing psalms.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure I wish they would," said Aunt +Gretel, "there is nothing I enjoy so much. And," +pursued she, waxing bold, "after all, sister +Dorothy, the whole world does seem to sing and dance +in the green May, the little birds hop and sing, +(sing love-songs too, sister Dorothy), and the leaves +dance and rustle, and the flowers don all the colours +of the rainbow." +</p> + +<p> +"As to the flowers," said Aunt Dorothy, "they +did not choose their own raiment, so no blame to +them, poor perishing things. I hold they were +clothed in their scarlet and purple, like fools in +motley, for the very purpose of shaming us into +being sober and grave in our attire. The birds, +indeed, may hop and sing if they like it. Not that I +think they have much cause, poor inconsiderate +creatures, what with the birds'-nesting, and the +poaching, and Mr. Cromwell draining the fens. +But they have no foresight, and they have not +immortal souls, and if they're to be in a pie to-morrow +they don't know it; and they are no worse for it the +day after." +</p> + +<p> +"But," said Aunt Gretel, "we have immortal +souls, and I think that ought to make us sing a +thousand-fold better than the birds." +</p> + +<p> +"We have not only souls, we have sins," said +Aunt Dorothy; "and there is enough in sin, I hold, +to stop the sweetest music in the world when the +burden is felt." +</p> + +<p> +"But we have the Gospel and the Saviour," said +Aunt Gretel, "glad tidings of great joy to all +people." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell them, then, to the people," said Aunt +Dorothy; "get a godly minister to go and preach +them to the poor sinners in the village, and that +will be better than setting up May-poles and +broaching beer barrels." +</p> + +<p> +"I do tell them whenever I can, sister Dorothy," +said Aunt Gretel meekly, "as well as I can. But +the best of us cannot always be listening to sermons." +</p> + +<p> +"We might listen much longer than we do if +we tried," said Aunt Dorothy, branching off from +the subject. "In Scotland, I am told, the Sabbath +services last twelve hours." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel sighed; whether in compassion for +the Scottish congregations, or in lamentation over +her own shortcomings, she did not explain. +</p> + +<p> +"But," she resumed, "it does seem that if the +good God meant that there should have been no +merry-making in the world he would have arranged +that people should have come into the world full-grown." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably it would have been better if it could +have been so managed," said Aunt Dorothy; "but +I suppose it could not. However that may be, the +best we can do now is to make people grow up as +soon as they can, and not keep them babies with +May games, and junketings, and possetings." +</p> + +<p> +"But," said Aunt Gretel timidly, "after all, sister +Dorothy, the Bible does not give us any strict +rules by which we can judge other people in such +things." +</p> + +<p> +"I confess," replied Aunt Dorothy, "that if there +could be a thing to be wished for in the Bible (with +reverence I say it), it is just that there were a few +plain rules. St. Paul came very near it when he +was speaking of the weak brethren at the idol-feasts; +but I confess I do think it would have been +a help if he had gone a little further while he was +about it. Then, people would not have been able +to pretend they did not know what he meant. I +do think it would have been a comfort if there could +have been a book of Leviticus in the New Testament." +</p> + +<p> +"But your Mr. John Milton," said Aunt Gretel, +"in his new masque of Comus, which your brother +thinks beautiful, introduces music and dancing." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Milton is a godly man," said Aunt Dorothy +"but, poor gentleman, he is a poet; and poets can +not always be expected to keep straight, like +reasonable people." +</p> + +<p> +"But Dr. Martin Luther himself dearly loved +music," said Aunt Gretel, driven to her final court +of appeal, "and even sanctioned dancing, in a +Christian-like way, without rioting and drunkenness." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Luther might," rejoined Aunt Dorothy. +"Dr. Luther believed in consubstantiation, and +rejected the Epistle of St. James. And, besides, by +this time he has been in heaven, it is to be hoped, +for nearly a hundred years, and there can be no +doubt he knows better." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel was roused. +</p> + +<p> +"Sister Dorothy," she said, "Dr. Luther does +not need to be defended by me. But I sometimes +think if he came to England in these days he would +think some of you had gone some way towards +painting again that terrible picture of God, which +made the little ones fly from Him instead of taking +refuge with Him, and which it took him so much +toil to destroy." +</p> + +<p> +And she fled to the kitchen, rosier than she +came, but with tears instead of smiles in her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"If people could enjoy themselves harmlessly, +without rioting and drunkenness," said Aunt Dorothy, +half yielding, "there might be less to be said +against it. +</p> + +<p> +"What is rioting, Aunt Dorothy?" asked Placidia +from her spinning-wheel. +</p> + +<p> +"Idling and romping, and doing what had better +not be done nor talked about." +</p> + +<p> +"Because, Aunt Dorothy," said Placidia solemnly, +"I saw Dickon trying to kiss our Tib's daughter, +Margery, behind the door; and she would not let +him. But she laughed and did not seem angry. Is +that rioting?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dickon may kiss Margery as often as he likes +without hurting you or any one, Placidia," said +Aunt Dorothy, incautiously. "Margery is a good +honest girl, and can take care of herself. And you +have no right to watch what any one does behind +doors. You, at least, shall not go to the May-pole +to-day, but shall stay with me and learn the +thirteenth of First Corinthians." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not wish to go to any rioting or May +games," said Placidia. "I like my spinning and +my book. I never did care for dancing and playing +and fooling, Aunt Dorothy, I am thankful to say." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be a Pharisee, Placidia," said Aunt +Dorothy, turning hotly on her unwelcome ally. +"Better play and dance like a flipperty-gibbet, than +watch what other people do behind doors, and tell +tales." +</p> + +<p> +And I left them to settle the controversy, while +I went to join Aunt Gretel, who was in my Father's +chamber preparing for me such sober decorations +in honor of the festivities as our Puritan wardrobes +admitted of. It was a great day for me; chiefly for +the expectation of meeting the Lady Lucy and the +sweet maiden Lettice. +</p> + +<p> +I was starting full of glee when the sight of Aunt +Dorothy, spinning silently in the hall as we passed +the door, with Placidia beside her, threw a little +shadow over my contentment. Aunt Dorothy so +completely represented to me the majesty of law, +and at the bottom of our hearts both Roger and I +so trusted and honored her, that in spite even of my +Father's sanction, something of misgiving troubled +me at the sight of her grave face. With a sudden +impulse I ran back, and, standing before her, said— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy, you are not angry? I shall not +dance, only look, and soon be at home again, and +all will go on the same as ever." +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head, but more sorrowfully than +angrily. +</p> + +<p> +"Eve only looked," said she, "but nothing went +on the same evermore." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment my father came back to seek me, +and, catching Aunt Dorothy's last words, he said +kindly but gravely, "Do not let us trouble the +child's conscience with our scruples. It is a serious +danger to force our scruples on others. When +experience of their own peculiar weaknesses and +besetments has led them to scruple at things for +themselves, it is another matter. But to add to +God's laws is almost as tremendous a mistake as to +subtract from them. Our additions, moreover, are +sure to end in subtractions in some other direction. +Indifferent things done with a guilty conscience lead +to guilty things done with an indifferent conscience. +In inventing imaginary sins you create real sinners." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, brother, it is as you please," said Aunt +Dorothy, "but I should have thought our new +parson reading from that blasphemous 'Book of Sports' +from the pulpit, commanding the people to dance +around the May-poles on the Sabbath afternoons, +was enough to turn any serious person against +them." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay; that is exactly one of the strongest reasons +why I go to-day," said my father. "I go to show +that it is not the May-poles we scruple at, but the +cruel robbing of the poor by the desecration of the +day given them by God for higher things." +</p> + +<p> +And he led me away. But my free, innocent +gladsomeness was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Conscience had come in with her questionings, +and her discernings and her dividings. I was not +sure whether God was pleased with me or with any +of us. Even when I looked at the garlanded +May-pole, I thought of the old tree in Eden with its +pleasant fruit, which I had embroidered with a +serpent coiled round it, darting out his forked tongue +at Eve. I wondered whether if my eyes were +opened I should see him there, writhing among the +hawthorn garlands, or hissing envenomed words +into the ear of our Tib's Margery as she sat in her +royal bower of green boughs crowned with flowers, +or gliding in and out among the dancers, as hand +in hand they moved singing around the May-pole, +wreathing and unwreathing the long garland which +united them, and making low reverences, as they +passed, to their blushing Queen. I wondered +whether the whole thing had some mysterious +connection with idolatry, and heaven itself were after +all watching us with grieved displeasures like Aunt +Dorothy, and secretly preparing fiery serpents, or a +rain of fire and brimstone, or a thunder storm, or +whatever came instead of fiery serpents and fire and +brimstone in these days when there were no more +miracles. +</p> + +<p> +These thoughts, however, all vanished when the +family appeared from the Hall. The Lady Lucy +was borne by two men in a sedan-chair which she +had brought from London, a thing I had never seen +before. It so happened that I had never seen the +Lady Lucy until that day. The family had been +much about the court, and on the few occasions on +which they had spent any time at the Hall, the +Lady Lucy's health had been too feeble to admit of +her attending at the parish church with the rest of +the family. From the moment, therefore, that Sir +Walter handed her out of the chair and seated her +on cushions prepared for her, I could not take my +eyes from her, not even to look at Lettice. So +queenly she appeared to me, such a perfection of +grace and dignity and beauty. Her complexion +was fair like Lettice's, but very delicate and pale, +like a shell; and her hair, still brown and abundant, +was arranged in countless small ringlets around her +face. On her neck and her forehead there was a +brilliant sparkle and a glitter, which must, of course, +have been from jewels; and her dress had a sheen +and a gloss, and a delicate changing of gorgeous +colours on it which must have been that of velvet +and brocade and rare laces. But in my eyes she +sat wrapped in a kind of halo of unearthly glory. +I no more thought of resolving it into the texture +of any earthly looms than if she had been a lily or +a star. All around her seemed to belong to her, +like the moonbeams to the moon or the leaves to a +flower. Not her dress only, but the green leaves +which bent lovingly down to her, and the flowery +turf which seemed to kiss her feet. If I thought of +any comparison, it was Aunt Gretel's fairy-tale of +the princess with the three magic robes, enclosed in +the magic nut-shells, like the sun, like the moon, and +like the stars. +</p> + +<p> +Even Sir Walter, burly, and sturdy, and noisy, +and substantial as he was, seemed to me to acquire +a kind of reflected glory by her speaking to him. +And her seven sons girdled her like the planets +around the sun, or like the seven electors Aunt +Gretel told us about around the emperor. But +when at last her eyes rested on me, and she whispered +something to Sir Walter, and he came across +and doffed his plumed hat to my father, and then +led me across to her, and she looked long in my +face, and then up in my father's, and said, "The +likeness is perfect," and then kissed me, and made +me sit down on the cushion beside her with her +hand in mine, I thought her voice like an angel's, +and her touch seemed to me to have something +hallowing in it which made me feel safe like a little +bird under its mother's wing. The silent smile of +her soft eyes under her smooth, broad, unfurrowed +brow, as she turned every now and then and looked +at me, fell on my heart like a kiss. And I thought +no more of Eve and the serpent, or Aunt Dorothy, +or anything, until she rose to go. And then she +kissed me again. But I scarcely seemed to care +that she should kiss me. Her presence was an +embrace; her smile was a kiss; every tone of her +voice was a caress. A tender motherliness seemed +to fold me all round as I sat by her. As she left +me she said softly,— +</p> + +<p> +"Little Olive, you must come and see me. Your +mother and I loved each other." Then holding out +her hand to my father, she added,— +</p> + +<p> +"Politics and land-boundaries, Mr. Drayton, must +not keep us any longer apart." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed, and they conversed some time longer; +but the only thing I heard was that he promised I +should go and see her at the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +I think every one felt something of the soft charm +there was in her. For, quiet and retiring as she +was, when she left, a light and gladness seemed to +go with her. Before long the dancing and singing +stopped, the tables were set on the green, and the +feasting began, and we left and went home. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roger," said I, when we were alone that +evening, "there can be no one like her in the +world." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not," said Roger decisively. "Did I +not always say so?" +</p> + +<p> +"But you never saw her before." +</p> + +<p> +"Never saw her, Olive? How can I help seeing +her every Sunday? She sits at the end of the pew +just opposite mine." +</p> + +<p> +"She never came to church, Roger." +</p> + +<p> +"Never came to church? Who do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mean? The Lady Lucy, to be sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said Roger, "I thought, of course, you +were speaking of Mistress Lettice." +</p> + +<p> +But when we came back to Netherby, full as my +heart was of my new love, there was something in +Aunt Dorothy's manner that quite froze any utterance +of it, and brought me back to Eve and the apple. +Yet she spoke kindly,— +</p> + +<p> +"Thou lookest serious, Olive," said she. "Perhaps +thou didst not find it such a paradise after all. +Poor child, the world's a shallow cup, and the +sooner we drain it the better. I think better of +thee than that thou wilt long be content with such +May games and vanities. Come to thy supper." +</p> + +<p> +But my honesty compelled me to speak. I did +not wish Aunt Dorothy to think better of me than +I deserved. +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>was</i> rather like paradise, Aunt Dorothy," I +said. +</p> + +<p> +"Paradise around a May-pole," said she +compassionately. "Poor babe, poor babe!" +</p> + +<p> +"It was not the May-pole," said I, my face burning +at having to bring out my hidden treasure of +new love; "not the May-pole, but Lady Lucy." +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Lucy took a fancy to the child, Sister +Dorothy," said my father, "and asked her to the +Hall." And lowering his voice he added, "She +thought her like Magdalene." +</p> + +<p> +I had scarcely ever heard him litter my mother's +Christian name before, and now it seemed to fall +from his lips like a blessing. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy's brow darkened. +</p> + +<p> +"Thou wilt never let the child go, brother?" +</p> + +<p> +He did not at once reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Into the very jaws of Babylon, brother? The +Lady Lucy is one of the favourites, they say, of the +Popish Queen." +</p> + +<p> +"Very probably," said my father dryly, "I do +not see how the Queen or any one else could help +honouring or favouring the Lady Lucy." +</p> + +<p> +My heart bounded in acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +"They say she has a chapel at the Hall fitted up +on the very pattern of Archbishop Laud, and priests +in coats of no one knows how many colours, and +painted glass, and incense. Thou wilt never let the +poor unsuspecting lamb go into the very lair of the +Beast?" +</p> + +<p> +"There are jewels in many a dust-heap, Sister +Dorothy, and the Lady Lucy is one," said my father +a little impatiently, for Aunt Dorothy had the faculty +of arousing the latent wilfulness of the meekest +of men. "Let us say no more about it. I have +made up my mind." +</p> + +<p> +Had he known how deep was the spell on me, he +might have thought otherwise. For, ungrateful +that I was, having lost my heart to this fair strange +lady, I sat chafing at Aunt Dorothy's injustice, in a +wide-spread inward revolt, which bid fair to extend +itself to everything Aunt Dorothy believed or +required. All her life-long care and affection, and +patient (or impatient) toiling and planning for me +and mine, blotted out by what I deemed her blind +injustice to this object of my worship, who had but +kissed me twice, and smiled on me, and said +half-a-dozen soft words, and had won all my childish +heart! +</p> + +<p> +And yet, looking back from these sober hours, I +still feel it was not altogether an infatuation. Such +true and tender motherliness as dwelt in Lady Lucy +is the greatest power it seems to me that can invest +a woman. +</p> + +<p> +All mothers certainly do not possess it. On some, +on the contrary, the motherly love which passionately +enfolds those within is too like a bristling +fortification of jealousy and exclusiveness to those +without. Or rather (that I dishonour not the most +sacred thing in our nature), I should say, the +mother's love which is from above is lowered and +narrowed into a passion by the selfishness which is +not from above. And some unmarried women possess +it, some little maidens even who from infancy +draw the little ones to them by a soft irresistible +attraction, and seem to fold them under soft +dove-like plumage. Without something of it women are +not women, but only weaker, and shriller, and +smaller men. But where, as in Lady Lucy, the +whole being is steeped in it, it seems to me the +sweetest, strongest, most irresistible power on earth, +to control, and bless, and purify, and raise, and the +truest incarnation (I cannot say anything so cold as +image), the truest embodying and ensouling of what +is divine. +</p> + +<p> +But that night it so chanced that I, who had +fallen asleep lapped in sweet memories of Lady Lucy +and in the protection of Aunt Gretel's presence, +awakened by the long roll of a thunder-peal +which seemed as if it never would end. +</p> + +<p> +For some time I tried to hide myself from the +flash and the terrific sound under the bed-clothes. +But it would not do. At length I sprang speechless +from my little bed to Aunt Gretel's. She took me +in close to her. And there, with my head on her +shoulder, speech came back to me, and I said, in a +frightened whisper (for it seemed to me like +speaking in church),— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Gretel, will the last trumpet be like that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know, Olive," said she quietly. "More +awful, I think, yet plainer, for we shall all +understand it, even those in the graves; and it will call +us home." +</p> + +<p> +"O Aunt Gretel," I said at last, "can it have +anything to do with the May-pole?" +</p> + +<p> +"What, sweet heart! the thunder?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is God's voice, is it not? Does not the Bible +say so? And it does sound like an angry voice," +I whispered, for the windows were rattling and the +house was quivering with the repeated peals, as if +in the grasp of a terrible giant. +</p> + +<p> +"There is much indeed to make the good God +angry, my lamb, much more than May-poles." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said I, "there were the three gentlemen +in the pillory! That must have been worse +certainly. But do you think God can be angry with +me, Aunt Gretel?" +</p> + +<p> +"For what, sweet heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"For loving Lady Lucy," said I; "she is so very +sweet." +</p> + +<p> +"God is never angry with any one for loving," +said Aunt Gretel, "only for not loving. But there +is a better voice of God than the thunder, Olive," +added she. "A voice that does not roar but speaks, +sweet heart. Hast thou never heard that?" +</p> + +<p> +I was silent, for I half guessed what she meant. +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>It is I, be not afraid,</i>'" she said, in a low, clear +tone, contrasting with my awe-stricken whisper. +"Whenever thou dost not understand the voice that +thunders, sweet heart, go back to the voice that +speaks, and that will tell thee what the voice that +thunders means." +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Gretel," said I, after a little silence, "it +seemed to me as if Lady Lucy were like some +words of our Saviour's. As if everything in her +were saying in a soft dove's voice, 'Suffer the little +children to come unto Me.' Was it wrong to think +so? It seemed as if I were sitting beside my +Mother, and then I thought of those very words. +Was it wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not wrong, my poor motherless lamb," said +she, "no, surely not wrong. Remember, Olive, +from Paradise downwards the worst heresy has been +slander of the love of God; distrust of His love, +and disbelief of the awful warnings His love gives +against sin. Whenever we feel anything very +tender in any human love, we should feel as if the +blessed God were stretching out His arms to us +through it, and saying, 'That is a little like the +way I love thee. But only a little, only a little.'" +</p> + +<p> +And the thunder rolled on, and the lightning that +night cleft the great elm by the gate, so that in the +morning it stood a scorched and blackened trunk. +</p> + +<p> +And Aunt Dorothy said what an awful warning +it was. But to me, if it was an "awful warning," +it stood also like a parable of mercy. I could not +exactly have explained why; but I thought I could +read the meaning of the Voice that thundered by +the Voice that spoke. +</p> + +<p> +I thought how He had been scathed and bruised +for us. +</p> + +<p> +And I pleaded hard with my father that the old +scathed tree might not be felled. For to me its +great bare blackened branches seemed to shelter the +house like that accursed tree which had spread its +bare arms one Good Friday night outside Jerusalem, +and had pleaded not for vengeance, but for pity +and for pardon. +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +I think the resentment of injustice is one of the +first-born and strongest passions in an ingenuous +heart. And to this, I believe, is often due the +falling off of children from the party of their parents, +They hear hard things said of opponents; on closer +acquaintance they find these to be exaggerations, +or, at least, suppressions; the general gloom of a +picture being even more produced by effacing lights +than by deepening shadows. The discovery throws +a doubt over the whole range of inherited beliefs, +and it is well if in the heat of youth the revulsion +is not far greater than the wrong; if in their +indignation at discovering that the heretic is not an +embodied heresy, but merely a human creature believing +something wrong, they do not glorify him into +a martyr and a model. +</p> + +<p> +For Roger and me it was the greatest blessing +that our father was just and candid to the extent +of seeing (often to his own great distress and +perplexity) even more clearly the defects of his own +party which he might correct, than of the other side, +which he could not; and that Aunt Gretel was apt +to see all opinions and characters melted into a haze +of indiscriminate sunshine by the light of her own +loving heart. +</p> + +<p> +Our indignation, therefore, during the period of +our lives which followed on this May-day was +almost entirely directed against Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +My idol remained for some time precisely at the +due idolatrous distance, enshrined in general behind +a screen of sweet mystery, with occasional flashes +of beatific vision; the intervals filled up with +rumours of the music, and breaths of the incense of +the inner sanctuary, enhanced by what I deemed the +unjust murmurs of the profane outside. +</p> + +<p> +My father fulfilled his promise of taking me to the +Hall. On our way to Lady Lucy's drawing-chamber +I caught a glimpse through a half-open door +into her private chapel, which left on my memory a +haze and a fragrance of coloured light falling on the +marble pavements through windows like rubies and +sapphires, of golden chalices and candelabras, of +aromatic perfumes, with a rise and fall of sweet +chords of sacred music, all blended together into a +kind of sacred spell, like the church bells on Sunday +across the Mere. The Lady Lucy herself was +embroidering a silken church vestment with gold and +crimson; skeins of glossy silk of brilliant colours +lay around her, which thenceforth invested the +descriptions of the broidered work of the tabernacle +for me with a new interest. She received my father +with a courtly grace, and me with her own motherly +sweetness. She made me sit on a tabouret at her +feet, while she conversed with my father, and gave +me a French ivory puzzle to unravel. But I could do +nothing but drink in the soft modulations of her +voice without heeding what she said, except that +the discourse seemed embroidered with the names +of the King and the Queen, and the Princes and +Princesses, which seemed as fit for her lips as her +rich dress was for her person. She seemed to speak +with a gentle raillery, reminding him of old times, +and asking why he deserted the court. But his +words and tones were very grave. Then, as he +spoke of leaving, she unlocked a little sandal-wood +cabinet, and took out a locket containing a curl of +fair hair, and she said softly, "This was Magdalene's!" +and held it beside mine. And then, as she +carefully laid it aside again, the conversation for a +few moments rose to higher things, and a Name +higher than those of kings and queens was in it. And +she said reverently, "In whatever else we differ, that +good part, I trust, may be mine and yours! as we +know so well it was hers." And my father seemed +moved, took leave, and said nothing more until we +had passed through the outer gate, when in the +avenue Lettice met us, cantering on a white palfrey, +in a riding coat laced with red, blue and yellow; +and springing off, left her horse to go whither it +would, as she ran to welcome me, saying a thousand +pretty, kindly things, while I, in a shy ecstasy, +could only stand and hold her hand, and feel as if +I had been transported, entirely unprepared, straight +into the middle of a fairy tale. +</p> + +<p> +After that for some weeks there was a stream +of courtly company at the Hall, and Roger and I +only saw Lettice and occasionally the Lady Lucy at +church, or met them now and then in our rides and +rambles by the Mere or through the woods. But +whenever we did meet there was always the same +eager cordial greeting from Lettice, and the same +affectionate manner in her mother. And from time +to time we heard, through Tib's sweetheart Dickon, +of the gracious little kindnesses of both mother and +daughter, of their thoughtful care for tenant and +servant, of the honour in which they were held by +prince and peasant. And so on me and on Roger +the spell worked on. +</p> + +<p> +The Draytons were of as old standing in the parish +as the Davenants. Indeed, if tradition and our +family tree spoke true, many a broad acre around +Netherby had been in the possession of our ancestors, +maternal or paternal, when the forefathers of +the Davenants had been holding insignificant fiefs +under Norman dukes, or cruising on very doubtful +errands about the northern seas. Our pedigree +dated back to Saxon times; the porch of the oldest +transept of the church had, to Aunt Dorothy's +mingled pride and horror, an inscription on it +requesting prayers for the soul of one of our +progenitors; and the oldest tomb in the church was ours. +But while our family had remained stationary in +place as well as in rank, the Davenants had climbed +far above us. Our old Manor House had received +no additions since the reign of Elizabeth, when the +third gable had been built with the large embayed +window, and the three terraces sloping to the +fish-pond and the orchards, while on the other side of +the court extended, as of old, the cattle-sheds and +stables. Meantime, the old Hall of the Davenants +had been degraded into farm-buildings, whilst a new +mansion, with sumptuous banqueting halls and +dainty ladies' withdrawing-chamber like a palace, +had gradually sprung up around the remains of the +suppressed Priory, which had been granted to the +family; the ancient Priory Church serving as Lady +Lucy's private chapel, the monks' refectory as the +family dining-hall, whilst all signs of farm life had +vanished out of sight, and scent, and hearing. +</p> + +<p> +During the same period, the new transept of our +parish church, which had been the Davenants' +family chapel, had become enriched with stately +monuments, where the effigies of knight and dame rested +under decorated canopies. The titles and armorial +bearings of many a noble family were mingled with +theirs on monumental brass and stained window; +whilst the plain massive architecture of our hereditary +portion of the church was not more contrasted +with the rich and delicate carving of theirs than +were we and our servingmen and maidens, in our +plain, sad-colored stuffs, unplumed, unadorned hats, +caps or coifs, and white linen kerchiefs, with the +brocades, satins, and velvets, ostrich feathers and +jewels, ribboned hosen and buckled shoes of the +Hall. +</p> + +<p> +The contrast had gone deeper than mere externals, +as external contrasts mostly do, in this symbolical +world. In the Civil Wars, when no political +principle was involved, it had chanced that the +Draytons and the Davenants had seldom been on +the same side. But at and after the Reformation +the difference manifested itself plainly and steadily. +</p> + +<p> +The Davenants had recognized Henry VIII.'s +supremacy to the extent of receiving from him a +grant of the lands belonging to the neighbouring +abbey. But it had probably cost them little change +of belief to return zealously to the old religion, +under the rule of Queen Mary; whereas the Draytons, +adhering with Saxon immobility to the Papal +authority when Henry VIII. discarded it, had slowly +come round to the conviction of the truth of the +reformed religion by the time it became dangerous; +and we hold it one of our chief family distinctions +that we have a name closely connected with us +enrolled among the noble army in "Fox's Book of +Martyrs." Indeed, throughout their history, our +family had an unprosperous propensity to the +dangerous side. The religious convictions, so painfully +adopted and so dearly proved, had throughout the +reign of Elizabeth given our ancestors a leaning to +the Puritan side; deep religious conviction binding +them from generation to generation to the noblest +spirits of their times, whilst a certain almost +perverse honesty and inflexibility of temper naturally +drove them to resist any kind of pressure from without, +and a taste for what is solid and simple rather +than for what is elegant and gorgeous, whether in +life or in ritual, inclined them to the simplest forms +of ecclesiastical ceremonial. +</p> + +<p> +It was this strong hereditary Protestantism which +had led my Father to join the religious wars in +Germany. He held King Gustavus Adolphus, the +Swede, to be the noblest man and the greatest general +of ancient or modern times. And he held that +the fearful conflict by which that great king turned +the tide against the Popish arms was little less than +a conflict between truth and falsehood, barbarism +and civilization, light and darkness. It was enough +to make any one believe in the necessity of hell, he +said, to have seen, as he had, the city of Magdeburg, +ten days after Tilly's soldiers had sacked it, +when scarce three thousand corpse-like survivors +crept around the blackened ruins where lay buried +the mangled remains of their fourteen thousand +happier dead. To see that, said my Father, would +make any one understand what is meant by the +wrath of the Lamb; and that there are things which +can make a gospel of vengeance as precious to just +men as a gospel of mercy. And some foretaste of +that merciful vengeance, he said, had been given +already. For after Magdeburg it was said Tilly +never won a battle. My Father fought with the +Swedish army till the death of the king, on the sixth +of November, 1632; and that day of his victory and +death at Lützen, was always kept in our household +as a day of family mourning. +</p> + +<p> +Had Elizabeth been on the throne, my Father +used to say, and Cecil at the helm of state, it would +not have been the little northern kingdom of Sweden +which should have stemmed the torrent of Popish +and Imperial tyranny, while England stood by +wringing helpless womanish hands, beholding her +brethren in the faith tortured and slaughtered, her +own king's daughter exiled and dethroned, and, at +the same time, her brave soldiers and sailors trifled +to inglorious death by thousands at the bidding of +a musked and curled court favourite at Rhé and +Rochelle. +</p> + +<p> +It was in Germany that my Father met my mother. +She was a Saxon from Luther's own town, +Wittemberg. Her name was Reichenbach, and her +family retained affectionate personal memories of +the great Reformer, as well as an enthusiastic +devotion to his doctrines. She and Aunt Gretel +(Magdalene and Margarethe) were orphan daughters of +an officer in the Protestant armies. And I often +count it among my mercies that our family history +linked us with more forms of our religion than one, +and extended our horizon beyond the sects and +parties of England. Our mother died two years after +my father's return to England, leaving him us two +children, and a memory of a love as devoted, and a +piety as simple, as ever lit up a home by keeping it +open to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +It was during these years she made the acquaintance +with Lady Lucy. They had been very closely +attached, although political differences, and the long +absences of the Davenants at Court, had prevented +much intercourse between the families since her +death. +</p> + +<p> +Roger recollected her face and voice and her +foreign accent, and one or two things she said to +him. I remember nothing of her but a kind of +brooding warmth and care, tender caressing tones, +and being watched by eyes with a look in them +unlike any other, and then a day of weeping and +silence and black dresses and sad faces, and a +wandering about with a sense of something lost. Lost +for ever out of my life. As much as by any +possibility could be, Aunt Gretel made up the +tenderness, and Aunt Dorothy the discipline; and my +father did all he could to supply her place by a +fatherly care softened into an uncommon passion by +his sorrow, and deepened into the most sacred +principle by his desire to remedy our loss. Yet, in +looking back, I feel more and more we did indeed +inevitably lose much. All these balancing and +compensating cares and affections and restraints +from every side yet missed something of the tender +constraints and the heart-quickening warmth they +would have had all living, blended, and consecrated +in the one mother's heart. Yet to Roger, perhaps, +the loss was at various points in his life even +greater than to me. +</p> + +<p> +If she had lived, perchance the lessons we had to +learn after that May Day would have been learned +with less of blundering and heat. Yet how can I +tell? It seems to me the true painter keeps his +pictures in harmony not by mixing the colours on +the palette, but by blending them on the canvass, +not by painting in leaden monotonous grays, but by +interweaving and contrasting countless tints of pure +and varied colour. And in nature, in history, in +life, it seems to me the Creator does the same. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, God forbid that in lamenting what we lost +I should blaspheme the highest love—the love which, +as Aunt Gretel says, takes every image of human +affection, and fills and overfills it, and casts it away +as too shallow; in its unutterable intensity putting +as it were a tender paradox of slander on even a +mother's love for her babes, and saying, "They may +forget, yet will not I." +</p> + +<p> +For that love, we believe, gave and took away, +and has led us through fasting and feasting, +dangers and droughts, Marahs and Elims, chastenings +and cherishings, ever since. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +</h3> + +<p> +At length the time arrived when my dark +ages of mystery and adoration were to +to close. The pestilence so constantly +hovering over the wretched wastes of +devastated Germany had been brought to Netherby +by a cousin of my mother's, who had come on a +visit to us. He fell sick the day after his arrival, +and died on the third day. That evening Tib, the +dairywoman, sickened, and before the next morning, +Margery, her daughter. A panic seized the +household. My father accepted Lady Lucy's +generous offer, to take charge of Roger and me, we +happening to have been from the first secluded from +all contact with the sick. Aunt Dorothy made a +faint remonstrance. There were, said she, contagions +worse than any plague. If her brother would +answer for it, to his conscience, it was well. She, +at least, would wash her hands of the whole thing. +But my father had no scruples. "He only hoped," +he said, "that Lady Lucy might touch us with the +infection of her gracious kindliness; Olive would +be only with her, and as to Roger and the rest of +the household, if he was ever to be a true Protestant, +the time must come when he must learn, if +necessary, to protest." +</p> + +<p> +So much to Aunt Dorothy. To Roger himself, +he said, in a low voice, as we were riding off, with +his hand on the horse's mane,— +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, my lad, there is no true manliness +without godliness." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel watched and waved her hand to us +from the infected chamber window where she sat +nursing Margery; and when I opened my bundle of +clothes that evening, I found in the corner a little +book containing my mother's favorite psalms copied +in English for us, the 46th (Dr. Luther's own psalm), +the 23d, and the 139th. +</p> + +<p> +Thus armed, Roger and I sallied forth into our +enchanted castle. +</p> + +<p> +To be disenchanted. Not to be repelled, but +certainly to be disenchanted. Not by any subtle +spell of counter-magic, or rude shock of bitter +discovery, but by the slow changing of the world of +misty twilight splendours, of dreams and visions, +guesses and rumours, into a world of daylight, of +sight and touch. +</p> + +<p> +My first disenchantment was the Lady Lucy's +artificial curls. She allowed me to remain with her +while her gentlewoman disrobed her that evening. +I shall never forget the dismay with which I beheld +one dainty ringlet after another, of the kind called +"heart-breakers," disentangled from among her +hair—itself still brown and abundant—and laid on +the dressing-table. The perfumes, essences, powders, +ointments, salves, balsams, crystal phials, and +porcelain cups, among which these "heart-breakers" +were laid, (mysterious and strange as they +were to me who knew of no cosmetics but cold +water and fresh air,) seemed to me only so many +appropriate decorations of the shrine of my idol. +But the hair was false, and perplexed me sorely, +Puritan child that I was, brought up with no habits +of subtle discernment between a deception and +a lie. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning brought me yet greater perplexity, +I slept in a light closet in a turret off the +Lady Lucy's chamber. The Lady Lucy's own +gentle woman came in to dress me, but before she +appeared I was already arrayed, and was kneeling at +the window-seat of my little arched window, reading +my mother's psalms. +</p> + +<p> +I thought she came to call me to prayers, with +which we always began the day at home; my father +reading a psalm at daybreak and offering a short +solemn prayer in the Hall, where all the men and +maidens were gathered, after which we sat down at +one table to breakfast as the family had done since +the days of Queen Elizabeth. But when I asked +her if she came for this, she smiled, and said it was +not a saint's day, so that it was not likely the whole +household would assemble, though no doubt my +Lady and Mistress Lettice would attend service +with the chaplain in the chapel. But she said I +might attend Lady Lucy in her chamber before she +rose, I gladly accepted, and Lady Lucy invited +me to partake of a new kind of confection called +chocolate, brought from the Indies by the Spaniards, +which finding I could not relish, she sent for a cup +of new milk and a manchet of fine milk-bread on +which I breakfasted. Then she began her dressing; +and then ensued my second stage of disenchantment. +Out of the many crystal and porcelain vases on the +table, her gentlewoman took powders and paints, +and to my unutterable amazement actually began +to tint with rose-colour Lady Lucy's checks, and to +lay a delicate ivory-white on her brow. She made +no mystery of it; but I suppose she saw the horror +in my eyes, for she laughed and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"You are watching me little Olive, with great +eyes, as if I were Red Riding Hood's wolf-grand-mother. +What is the matter?" +</p> + +<p> +I could not answer, but I felt myself flush +crimson, and I remember that the only word that +seemed as if it could come to my lips, was "Jezebel." I +quite hated myself for the thought; the Lady Lucy +was so tender and good! Yet all the day, through +the service in the chapel, and my plays with Lettice, +and my quiet sitting on my favorite footstool at +Lady Lucy's feet, those terrible words haunted me +like a bad dream: "and she painted her face and +tired her head and looked out at a window." A +thousand times I drove them away. I repeated to +myself how she loved my mother, how my father +honored her, how gracious and tender she was to +me and to all. Still the words came back, with the +visions of the false curls, and the paint, and the +powder. And I could have cried with vexation +that I had ever seen these. For I felt sure Lady +Lucy was inwardly as sweet and true as I had +believed, and that these were only little court +customs quite foreign to her nature, to which she as a +great lady had to submit, but which no more made +her heart bad than the washed hands and platters +made the Pharisees good. Yet the serene and perfect +image was broken, and do what I would I could +not restore it. +</p> + +<p> +My third disenchantment was more serious. +</p> + +<p> +At the ringing of the great tower bell for dinner, +summoning the household and inviting all within +hearing to share the hospitality of the Hall, a +cavalcade swept up the avenue, consisting of the family +of a neighbouring country gentleman. Lady Lucy +who was seated at her embroidery frame in the +drawing-chamber, was evidently not pleased at this +announcement. "They always stay till dark," she +said, "and question me till I am wearied to death, +about what the queen wears, what the princesses +eat, or how the king talks, as if their majesties +were some strange foreign beasts, and I some Moorish +showman hired to exhibit them. Lettice, my +sweet, take them into the garden after dinner, or I +shall not recover it." +</p> + +<p> +Yet when the ladies entered she received them +with a manner as gracious as if they had been +anxiously expected friends. I reasoned with myself +that this graciousness was an inalienable quality of +hers, as little voluntary or conscious as the soft +tones of her voice; or that probably she repented +of having spoken hastily of her visitors and +compensated for it by being more than ordinarily kind. +But when it proved that they had to leave early, +and she lamented over the shortness of the visit, +and yet immediately after their departure threw +herself languidly on a couch, and sighed, "What a +deliverance!" I involuntarily shrank from her to +the farthest corner of the room, and watching the +departing strangers, wished myself departing with +them. +</p> + +<p> +I stood there long, until she came gently to me +and laid her hand kindly on my head. I looked up +at her, and longed to look straight into her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Tears on the long lashes!" said she, caressingly. +"What is the matter, little one?" +</p> + +<p> +My eyelids sank and the tears fell. +</p> + +<p> +"What ails thee, little silent woman?" said she, +stooping to me. +</p> + +<p> +I threw my arms around her and sobbed, "You +are <i>really</i> glad to have me, Lady Lucy; are you not? +You would not like me to go?" +</p> + +<p> +She seemed at first perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +"You take things too much to heart, Olive, like +your poor mother," she said at last, very gently. +"Those ladies are nothing to me; and your mother +was dear to me, Olive, and so are you." +</p> + +<p> +But in the evening when I was in bed she came +herself into my little chamber, and sat by my +bedside, like Aunt Gretel, and played with my long +hair in her sweet way; and then before she left, +said tenderly,— +</p> + +<p> +"My poor little Olive, you must not doubt your +mother's old friend. I am not all, or half I would +be, but I could not bear to be distrusted by you. +But you have lived too much shut up in a world of +your own. You wear your heart too near the +surface. You bring heart and conscience into things +which only need courtesy and tactics. You waste +your gold where beads and copper are as valuable. +I must be courteous to my enemies, little one, and +gracious to people who weary me to death; but to +you I give a bit of my heart, and that is quite a +different thing." +</p> + +<p> +And she left me reassured of her affection, but +not a little perplexed by this double code of +morals. That one region of life should be governed +by the rules of right and wrong, and another by +those of politeness, was altogether a strange thing +to me. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Lettice and I were rapidly advancing +from the outer court of courtesies into the inner one +of childish friendship, spiced with occasional sharp +debates, and very undisguised honesties towards +each other; as Lettice and her brothers initiated +me and Roger into the various plays and games in +which they were so much superior to us, and we +became eager on both sides for victory. A very new +world this play-world was to us, who had known +scarcely any toys but such as we made for ourselves, +and no amusements but such as we had planned for +ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +Very charming it was to us at first, the billiard-table, +the tennis-court, or pall-mall; and great delight +Roger took in learning to vault and throw the +dart on horseback, to wheel and curvet, or pick up +a lady's glove at full speed, and in the various +courtly exercises and feats, Spanish, French, or +Arabian, which the young Davenants had learned +from their riding-master. Naturally agile, he had +been trained to thorough command of his horse, by +following my Father through flood and fen, while his +eye had learned quickness and accuracy from hunting +the wild fowl, and tracking hares and foxes +through the wild country around us, and these +accomplishments came easily enough to him. Yet +with all these ingenious arrangements for passing +the time, it seemed to hang more heavily on hand +at the Hall than at Netherby; it came, indeed, to +Roger and me as something completely new that +any arrangements should be needed to make the +time pass quickly. What with spinning, and +sewing, and my helping my Aunts, and his learning +Greek, and Latin, and Italian of my Father, and +helping him about the farm, our holiday hours had +always seemed too brief for half the things we had +to do in them. Every morning found an eager +welcome from us, and every evening a reluctant +farewell; and it was not until we spent those days +at the Hall that the question, "What are we to do +next?" ever occurred to us, not in hesitation which +to select of the countless things we had to do in our +precious spare hours, but as an appeal for some new +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, while in outward accomplishments and +graces we felt our inferiority, in many things we +could not but feel that our education had been far +more extensive than that of the Davenants. +</p> + +<p> +Allusions to Greek and Roman history, and to +new discoveries in art and science, and even to +stories of modern European wars, which were as +natural to us as household words, were plainly an +unknown tongue to them. Even on the lute and +the harpsichord, Lattice's instructions had fallen +short of those my father had procured for me, +although her sweet clear voice, and her graceful +way of doing everything, made all she did seem +done better than any one else could have done it. +</p> + +<p> +The brothers, for the most part, laughed off their +deficiencies, and often made them seem for the +moment a kind of gentlemanlike distinction, bantering +Roger as if learning were but a little better kind of +servile labour, beneath the attention of any but +those who had to earn their bread. All that kind +of thing, they said, was going out of the mode. +The late King James had tired the court out with +overmuch pedantry and learning; the present king +indeed was a grave and accomplished gentleman, +but merrier days would come in with the French +queen's court and the young princes, when the "gay +science" would be the only one much worth +cultivating by men of condition. Meantime the elder +brothers paid me many choice and graceful compliments +on my hands and my hair, my eyes and my +eye-lashes, my learning and my accomplishments, +jesting now and then in a courtly way on my sober +attire; and, child that I was, sent me looking with +much interest and wonder at myself in the long +glass in Lady Lucy's drawing-chamber, to see if +what they said was true. I remember, one +noon, after a long survey of myself, I concluded +that much of it was, and thanked God that evening +for having made me pleasant to look at. A few +years later, the danger would have been different. +</p> + +<p> +But Lettice was of a different nature from all her +brothers except one. Generously alive to whatever +was to be loved or admired in others, and ready to +depreciate herself, she wanted Roger and me to +teach her all we knew. She made him hunt out the +books which would instruct her in Sir Walter's +neglected library. She sat patiently three sunny +mornings trying to learn from Roger the Italian +grammar, which she had pleaded hard he should teach +her, she made him read the poetry to her, and said +it was sweeter than her mother's lute. But on the +fourth morning her patience was exhausted;—she +declared it was a wicked prodigality to waste the +sunny hours in-doors, and danced us away to the +woods; and all Roger's remonstrances could not +bring her back to such unwonted work. Indeed +the more he remonstrated, the more idle and indifferent +she chose to be, insisting instead on showing +him some new French dance or singing him some +snatch of French song she had learned from the +Queen's ladies, until he gave up in despair; when she +declared that but for his want of patience she had +been fairly on the way to become a feminine Solomon. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was Monday when our visit commenced, so +that we were no longer strangers in the house by +the following Sunday. But we were not prepared +for the contrast between the Sundays at Davenant +Hall with those at Netherby. At our own home, +grave as the day was, there was always a quiet +festival air about it. The hall was fresh swept, and +strewn with clean sand. My Father and my Aunts, +the maids and men, had on their holiday dresses. +That morning at prayers we always had a psalm, +and the mere thrill of my voice against my Father's +rich deep tones was a pleasure to me. Then after +breakfast Roger and I had a walk in the fields with +him, and he made us hear, and see a hundred things +in the ways of birds and beasts and insects that we +should never have known without him. One day +it was the little brown and white harvest-mouse, +which, by cautiously approaching it, we saw climbing +by the help of its tail and claws to its little +round nest woven of grass suspended from a corn-stalk. +Another day it was a squirrel, with its summer +house hung to the branch of a tree with its +nursery of little squirrels; and its warm winter +house, lined with hay, in the fork of an old trunk; +or a colony of ants roofing their dwellings in the +wood with dry leaves and twigs. Or he would turn +it into a parable and show us how every creature +has its enemies, and must live on the defensive or +not live at all. Or he would watch with us the +butterfly struggling from the chrysalis, or the +dragon-fly soaring from its first life in the reedy creeks +of the Mere to the new life of freedom in the +sunshine. Or he would point out to us how the +field-spider had anticipated military science; how she +threw up her bulwarks and strengthened every +weak point by her fairy buttresses, and kept up the +communication between the citadel and the remotest +outwork. Or he would teach us to distinguish the +various songs of the birds, the throstles, the +chaffinches, the blackbirds, or the nightingales. God, +he said, had filled the woods with throngs of sacred +carollers, and melodious troubadours, and merry +minstrels; some with one sweet monotonous +cadence, one bell-like note, one happy little "peep" +or chirp, and no more, and others overflowing with +a passion of intricate and endlessly varied song; +and it was a churlish return for such a concert not +to give heed enough to learn one song from another. +Or, together, we would watch the rooks in the great +elm grove behind the house, how strict their laws of +property were, the old birds claiming the same +nest every year, and the young ones having to +construct new ones. Or he would tell us of the +different forms of government among the various +creatures; how the bees had an hereditary monarchy, +yet owned no aristocracy but that of labour, killing +their drones before winter, that if any would not +work neither should he eat; and how the rooks held +parliaments. Everywhere he made us see, wonderfully +blended and balanced, fixed order, with free +spontaneous action; freaks of sportive merriment, +free as the wildest play of childhood, with a fixedness +of law more exact than the nicest calculations +of the mathematicians; "service which is perfect +freedom;" delicate beauty with homely utility; +lavish abundance with provident care. And everywhere +he made us feel that the spring of all this +order, the source of all this fullness, the smile +through all this humour and play of nature, the soul +of all this law, was none other than God. So that +often after these morning walks with him we fell +into an awed silence, feeling the warm daylight +solemn as a starry midnight, with the Great +Presence; and entered the church-porch almost with +the feeling that we were rather stepping out of +the Temple than into it; that, sacred as was the +place of worship and of the dead, it was not more +sacred or awful than the world of life we left to +enter it. +</p> + +<p> +The other golden hour of our golden day (for +Sunday was ever that to us), was when in the +evening he read the Bible with Roger and me in his +own room. I cannot remember much that he used +to say about it. I only remember how he made us +reverence and love it; its fragments of biography +which make you know the people better than volumes +of narrative; its characters that are never mere +incarnations of principles, but men and women; its +letters that are never mere sermons concentrated on +an individual; its sermons that are never mere +dissertations peculiarly applicable to no one time or +place, but speeches intensely directed to the needs of +one audience, and the circumstances of one place, and +therefore containing guiding wisdom for all; its +prayers that are never sermons from a pulpit, but +brief cries of entreaty from the dust or flaming +torrents of adoration piercing beyond the stars, or +quiet asking of little children for daily bread; its +confessions that are as great drops of blood, wrung +slowly from the agony of the heart; its hymns that +dart upward singing and soaring in a wild passion +of praise and joy. +</p> + +<p> +I can recall little of what my father said to us in +those evening hours, but I remember that they left +on our minds the same kind of joyous sense of +having found something inexhaustible which came from +our morning walks. They made us feel that in +coming to the Bible, as to nature, we come not to a +cistern or a stream or a ponded store, though it might +be abundant enough for a nation; but to a Fountain, +which, though it might seem at times but a +gentle bubbling up of waters just enough for the +thirsty lips which pressed it, was, nevertheless, +living, inexhaustible, eternal, because it welled up +from the fullness of God. +</p> + +<p> +The usual name for the Sabbath in our home was +the Lord's Day, because of our Lord's Resurrection. +On other days my Father read to us, and made us +read and love other books—books of history and +science as well as of religion, Shakespeare, Spenser, +the early poems of Mr. John Milton, and, when we +could understand them, the Italian poet Dante, or +Davila, and other great Italians who spoke nobly +of order and liberty. +</p> + +<p> +Bui on this day of God he never read but from +these two divine books, Nature and the Holy Scriptures. +</p> + +<p> +In church we had not always any sermon at all. +Preaching had not been much encouraged since the +days of Queen Elizabeth. Occasionally one of the +lecturers, or gospel preachers, whom Mr. Cromwell +and other good men were so anxious to supply at +their own cost, used, in our earlier days, to enter +our pulpit and arouse us children with bursts of +earnest warning or entreaty (our parish minister +then being a meek and conformable person). But +Archbishop Laud soon put a stop to this, and sent +us a clergyman of his own type, who fretted Aunt +Dorothy by changing the places and colours of +things, moving the communion-table from the +middle of the church, where it had stood since the +Reformation, to the East End, wearing white where we +were used to black, and coats of many colours +where we were used to white, and in general moving +about the church in what appeared to us Puritan +children, uninstructed in symbolism, a restless +and unaccountable manner; standing when we had +been wont to sit, kneeling when we had been wont to +stand, making little unexpected bows in one direction +and little inexplicable turns in another, in a +way which provided matter of lively speculation to +Roger and me during the week, since we never +knew what new movement might be executed on +the following Sunday. But to Aunt Dorothy these +innovations were profanities, which would have +been utterly intolerable had she not consoled +herself by regarding them as signs of the end of all +things. For what to Mr. Nicholls, the parson, was +the "beauty of holiness," and to our father +"personal peculiarities of Mr. Nicholls," and to Aunt +Gretel but one more of our "incomprehensible +English customs," were to Aunt Dorothy the infernal +insignia of the "Mother of abominations." +</p> + +<p> +She therefore remained resolutely and rigidly +sitting and standing as she had been wont, a target +for fiery darts from Mr. Nicholls' eyes, and a sore +perplexity to Aunt Gretel, who, never having +mastered our Anglican rubric, had hitherto had no +ceremonial rule, but to do what those around her did, +and was thus thrown into inextricable difficulties +between the silent reproaches of Aunt Dorothy's +compressed lips if she did one thing, and the +suspicious glances of the Parson's eyes if she did +another. +</p> + +<p> +On our return Aunt Dorothy frequently made us +repeat the sixteenth and seventeenth chapters of the +Revelation. We understood that she regarded both +these chapters as in some way directed against +Mr. Nicholls. In what way—we discussed it +often—Roger and I at that time could never make out. +The great wicked city, with ships, and merchants, +and traders, and pipers, and harpers, seemed to us +more like London town, with the Court of the King, +than like the parish church at Netherby. However +that may be, I am thankful for having learned those +chapters. Many and many a time, when in after +life the world has tempted me with its splendours, +or straitened me with its cares, and I have been +assailed with the Psalmist's old temptation at seeing +the wicked in great prosperity, the grand wail over +the doomed city has pealed like a triumphal march +through my soul, and the whole gaudy pomp and +glory of the world has lain beneath me in the power +of that solemn dirge, like the tinsel decorations of a +theatre in the sunbeams, whilst above me has arisen, +snow-white and majestic, the vision of the Bride in +her fine linen "clean and white,"—of the City +coming down from heaven "having the glory of +God." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel, on the other hand, would frequently +quiet her ruffled spirits after her perplexities, by +making Roger and me read to her the fourteenth +chapter of the Romans, ending with, "We then +that are strong ought to bear with the infirmities +of the weak. Let every one of us please his neighbour +for his good to edification. For even Christ +pleased not Himself."—A rubric which secretly +seemed to us to have two edges, one for Aunt +Dorothy and one for Mr. Nicholls, but of which +Aunt Gretel contrived to turn both on herself. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, my dears," she would say, "that is a +rule of which I am naturally very fond. Because, +of course, I am one of the weak. And it certainly +would be a relief to me if those who are strong +would have a little more patience with me. But +then it is a comfort to think that He who is +stronger than all does bear with me. For He knows I do +not wish to please myself, and would be thankful +indeed if I could tell how to please my neighbours." Which +seemed to us like the weak bearing the +infirmities of the strong. +</p> + +<p> +After this learning and repeating our chapters +from the Bible, while my Father and my Aunts were +going about the cottages and villages near us on +various errands of mercy, Roger and I had a free +hour or two, during which we commonly resorted +in summer to our perch on the apple-tree, and in +winter to the chamber over the porch where the +dried herbs were kept, where we held our weekly +convocation as to all matters that came under our +cognizance, domestic, personal, ecclesiastical, or +political. Placidia was not excluded, but being four +years older, she preferred "her book" and the +society of our Aunts. Then came the sacred hour with +our Father in his own chamber. Afterwards in +winter, we often gathered round the fire in the great +hall, we in the chimney-nook, and the men and +maidens in an outer circle, while my Father told +stories of the sufferings of holy men and women for +conscience' sake, or while Dr. Antony (when he was +visiting us) narrated to us his interviews with those +who were languishing for truth or for liberty in +various prisons throughout the realm. +</p> + +<p> +And so the night came, always, it seemed to us, +sooner than on any other day. Although never +until our visit at Davenant Hall did I understand the +unspeakable blessing of that weekly closing of the +doors on Time, and opening all the windows of the +soul towards Eternity; the unspeakable lowering +and narrowing of the whole being which follows on +its neglect and loss. To us the Lord's Day was a +day of Paradise; but I believe the barest Sabbath +which was ever fenced round with prohibitions by +the most rigid Puritanism, looking rather to the +fence than the enclosure, rather to what is shut out +than to what is cultivated within, is a boon and a +blessing compared with the life without pauses, +without any consecrated house for the soul built out +of Time, without silences wherein to listen to the +Voice that is heard best in silence. +</p> + +<p> +It was a point of honor and a badge of loyalty +with many of the Cavaliers to protest against the +Puritan observance of the Sabbath. The Lady +Lucy, indeed, welcomed the sacred day, as she did +everything else that was sacred and heavenly. She +sang to her lute a lovely song in praise of the day +from the new "Divine Poems" of Mr. George Herbert, +and told me how he had sung it to his lute on +his death-bed only a few years before, in 1632. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "On Sunday heaven's gates stand ope,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +she sang; and I am sure they stood ever open to +her. +</p> + +<p> +But the rest of the family, whilst reverencing her +devout and charitable life, seemed to have no more +thought of following it than if she had been a nun in +a convent. Indeed, in a sense, she did dwell apart, +cloistered in a hallowed atmosphere of her own. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband and her sons requested her prayers +when they went on any expedition of danger, as +their ancestors must have sought for the intercessions +of priest or canonized saint. The heavier +oaths, except under strong provocation, were +dropped (by instinct rather than by intention) in her +presence; and mild adjurations, as by heathen +gods or goddesses, or by a lover's troth, or by a +cavalier's honor, substituted for them. They would +listen fondly as she sang "divine poems" to her +lute, and declare she had the sweetest warbling +voice and the prettiest hands in His Majesty's three +kingdoms. But it never seemed to occur to them +that her piety was any condemnation, or any rule +to them. Indeed, she had so many minute laws +and ceremonies that, easily as they suited her, it +would have been difficult to fit them into any but a +lady's life of leisure. She had special prayers and +hymns for nine o'clock, mid day, three o'clock, six +o'clock. And once awakening in the night I heard +sounds like those of her lute stealing from the +window of the little oratory next her chamber. She +had what seemed to me countless distinctions of +days and seasons, marked by the things she ate or +did not eat, which she observed as strictly as Aunt +Dorothy her prohibitions as to not wearing things. +Only in one thing Lady Lucy was happier than +Aunt Dorothy; for whilst Aunt Dorothy fondly +wished for a book of Leviticus in the New +Testament, and could not find it, Lady Lucy had her +book of Leviticus,—not indeed exactly in the New +Testament, but solemnly sanctioned by the +authority of Archbishop Laud. +</p> + +<p> +A complex framework to adapt to the endless +varieties and inexorable necessities of any man's +life, rich or poor, in court, or camp, or city; or +indeed of any woman's, unless provided with waiting +gentlewomen. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, the Lady Lucy herself sometimes spoke +with wistful looks and sighs of Mr. Farrar's Sacred +College at Little Gidding (not far from us), between +Huntingdon and Cambridge, where the voice of +prayer never ceased day nor night, and the psalter +was chanted through in a rotatory manner by +successive worshippers once in every four-and-twenty +hours. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Walter and her sons never attempted to +imitate her. She floated in their imagination, in a +land of clouds, between earth and heaven. Her +religion had a dainty sweetness and solemn grace +about it most becoming, they considered, to a noble +lady; but for men, except for a few clergymen, as +inapplicable as Archbishop Laud's priestly +vestments for the street or the battle-field. +</p> + +<p> +In our Puritan homes there was altogether +another stamp of religion. Whatever it might lack +in grace and taste, it was a religion for men as +much as for women, a religion for the camp as much +as the oratory. Rough it might be often, and stern. +It was never feeble. It had no two standards of +holiness for clergy and laity, men and women. All +men and women, we were taught, were called to +love God with the whole heart; to serve him at all +times. If we obeyed we were still (in our sinfulness) +ever doing less than duty. If we disobeyed, +we were in revolt against the King of heaven. +There were no neutrals in that war, no reserves in +that obedience. +</p> + +<p> +And unhappily the Lady Lucy's family, in +surrendering any hope of reaching her eminence of +piety, surrendered more. For, it is not elevating, +it is lowering, to have constantly before us an +image of holiness which we admire but do not imitate. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning the household met in the Family +Chapel (the Parish Church being for the present +avoided until danger of the infectious sickness was +over). In the afternoon, Sir Walter and his sons +loyally played at tennis and bowls with the young +men of the household. And in the evening there +was a dance in the hall, in which all joined. +</p> + +<p> +The merriment was loud, and reached Lettice +and me where we sat with the Lady Lucy and her +lute. +</p> + +<p> +Yet now and then one of the boys would come +in and complain of the tedium of the day. It was +such an interruption, they said, to the employments +of the week, and just at the best season in the year +for hunting, and with their father's hounds in +perfect condition and training. Tennis they said, was +all very well for boys, and Morris-dancing for girls, +but there was no real sport in such things after all, +except to fill up an idle hour or two. The next +day there was to be a rare bear-baiting at Huntingdon, +and the day after a cock-fight in the next village. +And at the beginning of the following week +Sir Walter had promised to give them a bull to be +baited. And the Book of Sports, in their opinion, +let the Puritans say what they like, was too rigid +by half in prohibiting such true old English sports +on Sundays. +</p> + +<p> +The Lady Lucy said a few pitiful tender words +on behalf of Sir Walter's bull, which they listened +to without the slightest disrespect, or the slightest +change of mind—kissing her hand and laughingly +vowing she was too tender and sweet for this +world at all, and that if she had had the making of +it she would certainly have left bears and bulls +altogether out of the creation. +</p> + +<p> +It was without doubt a long and dreary Sunday +to Roger and me. It would naturally have been +long and melancholy anywhere without our Father. +</p> + +<p> +I missed the busy work of the week, which made +it not only a sacred day but a holiday. I missed +Aunt Dorothy's laws which made our liberty precious. +</p> + +<p> +But to Roger the day had had other trials. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening he and I had a few minutes alone +together in the window of the drawing-chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roger," said I, "I am afraid it cannot be +right; but I am so glad Sunday is over." +</p> + +<p> +"So am I—rather," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Has it seemed long to you? I thought I heard +your voice in the tennis-court all the afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"You did not hear mine," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not think it right?" I asked, "I wondered +how they could." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sure about its being right or wrong +for other people," said Roger. "But I was sure it +was wrong for me. My Father would not have liked +it, and, therefore, I could not think of doing it; +especially when he was away." +</p> + +<p> +"Were they angry?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Not exactly," he said. "They only laughed." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Only</i> laughed!" said I. "I think that is worse +to bear than anything." +</p> + +<p> +"So do I," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"But you did not hesitate?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not after they laughed, certainly," said he. +"That set my blood up, naturally; for it was not +so much at me as at my Father and all of us. They +said I was too much of a man for such a crew." +</p> + +<p> +"They laughed at Father!" said I, in horror. +</p> + +<p> +"Not by name," said he, "but at all he thinks +right—at the Puritans, or Precisians, as they call +us." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you do, Roger?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"Walked away into the wood," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you not come to us?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Because they told me to go to you," he said, +flushing. +</p> + +<p> +"That was a pity; we were singing sweet hymns." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard you," he said. "But I do not think it +was a pity I did not come." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you find in the wood, then?" said I. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know that I found anything," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you do then, Roger?" +</p> + +<p> +"I went to the Lady Well, and lay down among +the long grass by the stream which flows from it +towards the Mere, and separates my Father's land +from Sir Walter's, at the place where you can see +Davenant Hall on one side and Netherby among its +woods on the other. And I thought." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you think of?" said I. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought I had rather live as a hired servant +at my Father's than as master here," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that all?" said I. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought of our talk in the apple-tree about +our being puppets, or free." +</p> + +<p> +I was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"And Olive," he continued, "I seemed like some +one waking up, and it flashed on me that God has +no puppets. The devil has puppets. But God has +free, living creatures, freely serving him. And I +thought how glorious it would be to be a free +servant and a son of his. And then I thought of the +words, 'Thou hast redeemed us to God by thy +blood;' not from God, Olive, but to God, to be his +free servants for ever." +</p> + +<p> +"That was a great deal to think, Roger," said I. +"I think you did find something in the wood." +</p> + +<p> +"I found I <i>wanted</i> something, Olive," he said very +gravely; "and I thought of something Mr. Cromwell +once said when people were talking about sects +and parties,—'To be a seeker is to be of the best +sect next to being a finder.' He meant to be seeking +happiness, or wealth, or peace, or anything in +the world, Olive, but to be seeking God." +</p> + +<p> +We were looking out across the woods to the +Mere, which we could also see from Netherby. The +water was crimson in the sunset, and beyond it the +flats stretched on and on, dark and shadowy except +where the rows of willows and alders in the distance, +and some cattle on an enbankment, stood out +distinct and black, like an ink etching, against the +golden sky. +</p> + +<p> +And something in Roger's words made the sky +look higher and the world wider to me than ever +before. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The next week, Lady Lucy's eldest son, Harry, +came from London to the Hall with an acquaintance +of his, Sir Launcelot Trevor. +</p> + +<p> +I thought Harry Davenant the most polished +gentleman I had ever seen. He was the first +person who ever called me Mistress Olive, and treated +me with a gentle deference as if I had been a +woman. I admired his manners exceedingly. His +voice, though deep and strong, had something of +the soft cadence of Lady Lucy's. He always saw +what every one wanted before they knew it +themselves. He always seemed to listen to what you +said as if he had something to learn from every +one. His whole soul always appeared to be in what +he was saying or what you were saying, and yet +there seemed to be another kind of porter-soul outside, +quite independent of this inner soul, always on +the watch to render any little courtesy to all around. +I supposed these courtly attentions had become an +instinct to him, so that he could attend to them and +to other things at the same time, as easily as we +can talk while we are eating or walking. +</p> + +<p> +He was his mother's greatest friend. Sir Walter +never was this. He was always almost lover-like +in his deference and attention to her, stormy and +soldier-like as his usual manner was. But into her +thoughts he did not seem to care to enter, any more +than into her oratory. They had some portion of +their worlds in common, but the largest portion, +by far, apart. And the younger boys were like +him, more or less. But whatever Lady Lucy might +have missed in him was made up to her in her eldest son. +</p> + +<p> +He was a cavalier to her heart,—grave, religious, +cultivated,—a soldier from duty, but finding his +delight in poetry and music, and all beautiful things +made by God or by man. It was a great interest +to me to sit at Lady Lucy's feet and listen to their +discourse about music and painting,—about the +great Flemish painter Rubens, who had painted the +ceiling of the king's banqueting-house at Whitehall, +the grand building which Mr. Inigo Jones had +just erected; and about the additions the king had +lately made to his superb collection of pictures. +He and Lady Lucy spoke of the purchase of the +cartoons of Raffaelle and of other pictures by this +great master, and by Titian, Correggio, and Giulio +Romano, or by Cornelius Jansen and other Flemish +painters, with as much triumph as if each picture +had been a province won for the crown. He spoke +also with the greatest enthusiasm of the painter +Vandyke, who was painting the portraits of the +Royal Family, and the great gentlemen and ladies +of the Court. He had brought a portrait of himself +by Vandyke as a present to his mother, (only, he +said, as a bribe for her own by the same hand); and +it seemed to me that Mr. Vandyke must be as fine +a gentleman as Harry Davenant himself, or he +never could have painted so perfectly and nobly the +noble features, the grave almost sad look of the +eyes, the long chestnut-coloured love-locks, the +courtly air, and the dress so easy and yet so rich. +</p> + +<p> +All this was very new discourse to me; paintings, +especially religious paintings such as the Holy +Families and Crucifixions by the foreign masters which +Harry Davenant described, never having been much +encouraged among us. +</p> + +<p> +When he spoke of music and poetry I was more +at home, and when he alluded with admiration to +the Masque of Comus by Mr. John Milton, I felt +myself flush as at the praise of a friend. +</p> + +<p> +For the names revered at Davenant Hall and at +Netherby were usually altogether different. For +instance, of Archbishop Laud and Mr. Wentworth +(afterwards Lord Strafford), whom Lady Lucy and +her son seemed to regard as the two pillars of +church and state, I had only heard as the persecutors +of Mr. Prynne, and the subvertors of the liberties +of the nation. +</p> + +<p> +But indeed the nation itself seemed to be little in +Harry Davenant's esteem, except as a Royal Estate +with very troublesome tenants who had to be kept +down; and liberty, which in our home was a kind +of sacred word, fell from his lips as if it had been +a mere pretext for every kind of disorder. +</p> + +<p> +With all his refinement, however, it did seem +strange to me that Harry Davenant should enter +with apparent zest into the bull-baiting, bear-baiting, +and cock-fighting which were the festivities of the +next week. But he said these were fine old +English amusements, and it was right to show the +people that the polish of the court did not make the +courtiers dainty or womanish, or prevent their +entering into these manly sports. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Launcelot Trevor was a man of a different +stamp. He had bold handsome features, black hair, +black eyes, and low forehead, a face with those +sharp contrasts of colour some people think handsome. +But there was something in him from which, +even as a child, I shrank, although he paid the most +finished compliments to the Lady Lucy, Lettice, and +me, and to everything we did or said. His +compliments always seemed to me like insults. When +Harry Davenant spoke of Beauty in women, or pictures, +or nature, he made you feel it something akin +to God and truth, to reverence and give thanks for. +</p> + +<p> +When Sir Launcelot spoke of Beauty, he made +you feel it a thing akin to the dust, to be fingered +and smelt and tasted, and then to fade and perish. +</p> + +<p> +Harry Davenant's was a polish bringing out the +grain, as in fine old oak. Sir Launcelot's was like a +glittering crust of ice over a stagnant pond, with +occasionally a flaw giving you a glimpse into the +black depths beneath. +</p> + +<p> +But I suppose it was the way in which he behaved +to Roger that more than anything opened +my eyes to what he was. So that, behind all his +bland smiles on us, I always seemed to see the curl +of the mocking smile with which he so often +addressed Roger. From the first they seemed to +recognize each other as antagonists. +</p> + +<p> +Two days after his coming Sir Walter's bull was +to be baited in a field near the village. Lettice and +I were standing in the hall porch, debating whether +we ought at once to report to Lady Lucy a dangerous +adventure from which we had just escaped, or +whether it would alarm her too much, when we +heard voices approaching in eager and rather angry +conversation. First Sir Walter's rather scornful,— +</p> + +<p> +"Let the boy alone. If his father chose to bring +him up as a monk or a mercer it is no concern of +yours or mine." +</p> + +<p> +Then Sir Launcelot's smooth tones. +</p> + +<p> +"Far from it. Is there not indeed something +quite amiable in such compassion as Mr. Roger +displays for your bull? In a woman it would be +irresistible. Should we not almost regret that the +hardening years are too likely to destroy that +delightful tenderness?" +</p> + +<p> +Then Roger's voice, monotonous and low, as +always when he was much moved. +</p> + +<p> +"I see nothing more manly, Sir Launcelot, in +tormenting a bull than a cockchafer, when neither of +them can escape. My Father says it is not so much +because it is savage, as because it is mean, that he +will have nothing to do with cock-fighting or bear +and bull baiting." +</p> + +<p> +Then a chorus of indignant disclaimers of the +comparison from the boys. +</p> + +<p> +"If you are too tender to stand a bull-baiting, +how would you like a battle?" +</p> + +<p> +But the next moment little Lettice, sweet, generous +Lettice (herself Roger's prime tormentor when +he was left to her), confronting the whole +company—the five brothers and Sir Launcelot—and +seizing her father's hand in both hers, exclaimed,— +</p> + +<p> +"For shame on you all, Robert and George, and +Roland, and Dick, and Walter" (Harry was not +there, and she scornfully omitted Sir Launcelot); +"you are all baiting Roger. And that is worse than +baiting a dozen bulls. Don't let them, Father. He +has done a braver thing this very day for us than +baiting a hundred bulls. This very morning he +faced that very bull in the priory meadow; not an +hour ago. We were crossing it, Olive and I, and +the bull ran at us, and Roger saw him and leapt over +the hedge and fronted him, holding up my scarlet +kerchief, which I had dropped, and then moved +slowly backward, never turning till we were safe +over the paling beyond the bull's reach." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Walter's eyes kindled as he turned and held +out his hand to Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you not tell me of this, my boy?" he +said. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not think it had anything to do with it," +said Roger quietly. "I did not know any one +thought I was a coward." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Launcelot took off his plumed hat and bowed +low to Lettice. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven send me such a fair defender, Mistress +Lettice, when I am assailed." +</p> + +<p> +She looked up in his face with her large deep eyes, +and said indignantly,— +</p> + +<p> +"I am not Roger's defender. He was mine." +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, but not pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Few would take much heed of such a danger for +such a reward," he said. +</p> + +<p> +After this he professed to treat Roger with the +profoundest deference. +</p> + +<p> +"A hero and a saint, a Don Quixote and one of +the godly, all in one," he said, "and such a paragon +at sixteen! What might not England expect from +such a son?" +</p> + +<p> +He was, moreover, continually referring questions +of conscience to Roger; asking him whether it was +consistent with Christian compassion to play at +tennis; he had heard of a tennis-ball once hitting a +man in the eye, and who could say but that it might +happen again? or whether he seriously thought it +charitable to ride horses with sharp bits, since it +was almost certain they did not like it! or whether +certain equestrian feats were not positively profane, +since they were brought to Europe by the Moors; +or whether indeed there was not a text forbidding +the riding of horses altogether. +</p> + +<p> +He did not venture on these taunts when Harry +Davenant was present. But he generally contrived +to make them with such a quaint and good-humoured +air that the boys joined in the laugh, and Roger, +having neither so nimble nor so practised a wit, +could only flush with indignation, and then with +vexation at himself that he could not control the +quick rush of blood which always betrayed that he +felt the sting. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Launcelot had many of the qualities which +command the regard of boys—an indifference to +expenditure sustained by the Fortunatus purse of +an unbounded capacity for getting into debt, which +passed for generosity ("if the worst comes to the +worst," said he; "I can but make interest with the +king, for a monopoly"); a wit never too heavily +weighted to wheel sharp round on an assailant; +skill and quickness in all the accomplishments of a +cavalier, from commanding a squadron of horse to +tuning a lady's lute; a dashing courage which shrank +from no bodily danger; (brave I could not call him, +for to be brave is a quality of the spirit, and spirit it +was very difficult to conceive Sir Launcelot had, +except such as there is in a mettlesome horse); a +kindly instinct which would make him take care of +his horses or dogs, or fling a piece of money to a +crying child; or in the wars share his rations with +a hungry soldier (plundering the next Puritan +cottage to repay himself). For cruel he was not, at +least not for cruelty's sake; if his pleasures, whether +at the bull-baiting or bear-baiting, or of other baser +kinds proved cruelty to others, that was not his +intention, it was only an attendant accident, not, +("of course,") to be avoided, since life was short +and enjoyment must be had, follow what might. +</p> + +<p> +But of all that went on in the tennis-court and the +riding-ground I knew little, except such glimpses as +I have given, until long afterwards, when Lettice, +who heard it from her brothers told me; Roger +scorning to breathe a word of complaint on the +subject, either while at the Hall or after our return. +</p> + +<p> +But oh! the joy when one morning my Father +came up to the Hall with two led horses following +him, the speechless joy with which, rushing down +from Lady Lucy's drawing chamber, I met him at +the great door and threw myself into his arms as he +dismounted. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Olive," he said, "you are like a small +whirlwind." +</p> + +<p> +Yet I shed many tears when the moment came to +go. Lady Lucy, if no more a serene goddess, and +embodiment of perfect womanhood to me, was in +some sense more by being less. I loved her as a +dear, loving, mother-like woman. Her tender words +that night by my bedside—"Olive, I am not all or +half I would be. But I could not bear to be +distrusted by you"—and all her frank, gracious, +considerate self-forgetful ways had made my heart cling +with a true, reverent tenderness to her, far deeper +rooted than my old idolatry. And Lettice, generous, +eager, willful as the wind, truthful as the light, now +imperious as an empress, now self-distrustful and +confiding as a little child, her sweet changing beauty +seemed to me only the necessary raiment of the +ever-changing, varying, yet, constant heart, that +glowed in the brilliant flush of her cheek, and +beamed or flashed through her eye. +</p> + +<p> +Lettice and I were friends by right of our differences +and our sympathies, by right of a common +antagonism to Sir Launcelot Trevor, and our common +conviction of our each having in Roger and in +Harry Davenant the best brothers in the world. +Lettice and Harry royalist, and Roger and I +patriots to the core; they devoted to the King and the +Queen Marie, and we to England and her liberties; +they persuaded that Archbishop Laud was a new +apostle, we that he was a new Diocletian. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +I shall never forget the joy of waking early the +next morning in my old chamber, and looking up +and seeing the sheen of the morning in the Mere, +and watching Aunt Gretel asleep in the bed close +to mine, and hearing the first solitary crow of the +king of the cocks, and then the clacking of his family +as they woke up one by one; the bleating of the +sheep in the orchard meadow, and the lowing of +cows in the sheds—the lowing of White-face, and +Beauty my own orphaned calf, and Meadow-sweet; +and then the cheery voice of Tib, the dairy-woman, +recovered from the sickness, remonstrating with them +on their impatience; and the calls of Bob, Tib's +husband, to his oxen, as he yoked them and drove +his team a-field; and mingled with all, the deep +soldierly bay of old Lion, the watch-mastiff, and the +sharp business-like bark of the sheep-dogs driving +the flocks to fresh pastures. It was such a delight +to be among all the living creatures again. It felt +like coming out of an enchanted castle, drowsy with +perfumes and languid strains of music, into the fresh +open air of God's own work-a-day world—a world +of daylight, and truth, and judgment, and +righteousness, and duty. +</p> + +<p> +I was dressed before Aunt Gretel was fairly +awake, and down among the animals, eager to learn +from Tib the latest news of all my friends in field +and poultry-yard. +</p> + +<p> +But Roger was out before me. And before breakfast +we had visited nearly all our familiar haunts—the +heronry by the Mere, the creek where the waterfowl +loved to build among the rushes, the swan's +nest on the reedy island, the shaded fish-ponds in +the orchard, the little brook below where he and I +had made the weir, the bit of waste low-ground +which the brook used to flood, which with Bob's +help we had dyked and embanked into corn-ground +for Roger's pigeons. +</p> + +<p> +My very spinning task with Aunt Dorothy was +a luxury. I could scarcely help singing with a +loud voice, as I span; my heart was singing and +dancing every moment of the day. The lessons for +my Father were a keen delight, like a race on the +dykes in a fresh wind; the Latin grammar was like +poetry to me. It was such a liberation to have +come into a busy, every-day, working world again;—a +world of law, and therefore of liberty, where +every one had his task, and every task its time, and +the play-hours were as busy as the working-hours +to heads and hands vigorous with the rebound of +real necessary labour. +</p> + +<p> +All the world became thus again our play-ground, +and all the creatures our play-mates, by the mere +fact that when not at play we, too, were +fellow-workers with them—working as hard in our way +as ant or bee, or happy building bird, or cleansing +winds, or even the glorious ministering sunbeams +themselves, whose work was all joyous play, and +whose play was all world-helpful work. +</p> + +<p> +An then it was inspiring to hear once more the +great old honoured names of our childhood—Sir +John Eliot (honoured in his dishonoured grave), +and Hampden, and Pym, and Sir Bevill Grenvil +(loyal then to his country and his King, and afterwards, +as he believed, to his King for his country's +sake), and Mr. Cromwell, who whether in Parliament, +in the Fens, or on the "Soke of Somersham," +understood liberty to be, liberty to restrain the +strong from oppressing the weak—liberty to speak +the truth loud enough for all the world to hear. +</p> + +<p> +I thought I began to understand what was meant +by, "Thou hast set my feet in a large room." For +it seemed like coming forth from the ante-room of +a court presence-chamber, with low-toned voices. +perfumed atmosphere, constrained, soft movements, +into our own dear, free Old England, where we +might run, and sing, and freely use every free +faculty to the utmost, beneath the glorious open +heavens, which are the Presence-chamber of the Great +King. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +</h3> + +<p> +The very afternoon of Roger's and my +return from Davenant Hall Dr. Antony +came on one of his ever-welcome visits. +He had, by dint of much trouble and +perseverance, obtained access to Mr. Prynne, in his +solitary cell at Caernarvon, and to Mr. Bastwick and +Mr. Burton, in theirs, in Launceston and Lancaster +Castles; and afterwards to the prisons to which +they were removed, in Guernsey, Jersey, and the +Scilly Islands, and also to old Mr. Alexander Leighton, +in his prison, after his most cruel mutilations. +</p> + +<p> +Often in the summer Dr. Antony left his patients +for a season, to visit such throughout the land as +were in bonds for conscience' sake, bearing them +the tidings, so precious to the solitary captive, that +in the rush of life outside they were not forgotten; +taking them food or physic, and such poor bodily +comforts as were permitted by the hard rules of +their imprisonment, and bringing back messages to +their friends and kinsfolk. This last year Dr. Antony +himself (as we heard from others) had been +somewhat impoverished by a fine of £250 sterling, +to which he had been sentenced by the Star-Chamber +on account of these visits of compassion; although +there was no law against them. +</p> + +<p> +This time he brought us grievous tidings from +many quarters; and very grave was the discourse +between him and my Father. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere disgrace and disaster to our country; +the French Huguenots cursing our Court for +encouraging them to insurrection, and then sending +ships against them to Rochelle (though, thank +Heaven! scarcely one of our brave sailors would bear +arms against their Protestant brethren—officers and +men deserting in a body when they discovered +against whom they had been treacherously sold to +fight); our own fisheries on the east coast sold to +the Hollanders, and the capture of one of our Indiamen +by Dutch ships; the Barbary corsairs landing +on the coast near Plymouth, and kidnapping our +countrymen and countrywomen from their village +homes, to sell them as slaves to the Moors in Africa; +the King of Spain, the very pillar of Popery and +persecution, the sworn foe of our religion and our +race from the days of the Armada, permitted to +recruit for his armies in Ireland; the Government, +with Wentworth (traitor to liberty) and Archbishop +Laud at the head of it, weak as scorched tow to +chastise our enemies abroad, yet armed with +scorpions against every defender of our ancient rights +at home. The decision but lately given by the +judges against the brave and good Mr. Hampden +as to ship money, placing our fortunes at the mercy +of the Court, who chiefly valued them as meant +wherewith to destroy our liberties; Justice Berkeley +declaring from the judgment-seat that Lex was +not Rex, but that Rex was Lex; thirty-one monopolies +sold, thus making nearly every article of +consumption at once dear and bad. The sweeping, +steady pressure of Lord Strafford's (Mr. Wentworth) +"Thorough" wrought into a vexation for +every housewife in the kingdom, by the king's petty +monopolies. The heavy links of Wentworth's +imperious despotism, filed and twisted by Archbishop +Laud's petty tyrannies into needles wherewith to +torture tender consciences, and wiry ligatures wherewith +to tie and bind every limb. "Regulations as +to the colours and cutting of vestments, worthy +(Aunt Dorothy said) of a court tailor, enforced by +cruelties minute and persevering enough for a +malignant witch." Dark stories, too, of private wrong, +wrought by Wentworth in Ireland, worthy of the +basest days of the Roman emperors; tales of royal +forests arbitrarily extended from six miles to sixty, +to the ruin of hundreds of gentlemen and peasants; +disgraceful news of faith broken with Dutch and +French refugees welcome to the heart of England +since the days of Elizabeth, made secure with rights +confirmed to them by James and by King Charles +himself, now forbidden by Archbishop Laud to +worship God in the way for which their fathers had +suffered banishment and loss of all things,—driven +to seek another home in Holland, and in their second +exile ruining the flourishing town of Ipswich, where +they had lived, and carrying over the cloth-trade +which was the support of our eastern counties to +our rivals the Dutch. +</p> + +<p> +"You have a copy of Fox's Book of Martyrs?" +Dr. Antony asked of my Father, after he had been +speaking of these lamentable things. +</p> + +<p> +"What good Protestant English household is +without one?" exclaimed Aunt Dorothy; "least of +all such as this, whose forefathers are enrolled in +its lists." +</p> + +<p> +"Take good care of it, then," Dr. Antony replied, +"for the Primate hath forbidden another copy to +be printed, under the penalties the Star-Chamber +will not fail to enforce." +</p> + +<p> +"The times are dark," he continued, "dark and +silent. I stood this spring by the grave of Sir John +Eliot, in the Church of the Tower; as brave, and +loyal, and devout a gentleman as this nation ever +knew, killed by inches in prison for calmly pleading +the ancient rights of England in his place in +Parliament, and then his body refused to his family for +honourable burial among his kindred in his parish +church in Cornwall, and cast like a felon's into a +dishonoured grave in the precincts of the prison +where he died. And I thought how it might have +thrown a deeper shadow over his deathbed if he +could have foreseen how, during these six years, the +tyranny would be tightened, and the voice of the +nation never once be heard in her lawful Parliaments." +</p> + +<p> +"The voice of the nation is audible enough to +those who have ears to hear," said my Father. +</p> + +<p> +"Yea, verily," said Dr. Antony, "if you had +journeyed through the country as I have, you would +say so. When will kings learn that moans and +subdued groans between set teeth are more dangerous +from human lips than any torrents of passionate +speech?" +</p> + +<p> +"And," added my Father, "that there is a silence +even more significant and perilous than these!" +</p> + +<p> +"But there are two points of hope," said +Dr. Antony. "One is the Puritan colony in New +England, where our brethren have exchanged the +vain struggle with human blindness and tyranny for +the triumphant struggle with nature in her primeval +forests and untrodden wilds. Four thousand good +English men and women, and seventy-seven clergymen, +have taken refuge there during these last +twenty years. Not poor men only, for they have +taken many thousand pounds of English money, or +money's worth, with them, forsaking country and +comfortable homes for the dear liberty to obey God +rather than man. And these plantations, after the +severest struggles and privations, are beginning to +grow. +</p> + +<p> +"What they hope and mean to be is shown by +this, that two years since, while food was still hard +to win from the wilderness, and roads and bridges +had yet to be made, the plantation of Massachusetts +voted £400 for the founding of a college. Such an +act might seem more like the foresight of the fathers +of a nation than the care of a little exiled band +struggling for existence with the Indians, the +wilderness, and a hostile Court at home. +</p> + +<p> +"The other point of hope is the Greyfriars' Church +in Edinburgh, where, on the 1st of last March, after +long prayers and preachings, the great congregation +rose, gathered from all corners of the kingdom,—nobles, +gentlemen, burgesses, ministers, lifted their +hands solemnly to heaven, and swore to the +Covenant." Then Dr. Antony took a manuscript paper +from the breast of his coat, and read: "'We abjure,' +they swore, 'the Roman Antichrist,—all his tyrannous +law made upon indifferent things against our +Christian liberty; his erroneous doctrine against +the written Word, the perfection of the law, the +office of Christ, and His blessed Evangel; his cruel +judgments against infants departing this life without +the sacraments; his blasphemous priesthood; his +canonization of men; his dedicating of kirks, altars, +days, vows to creatures; his purgatory, prayers +for the dead, praying or speaking in a strange +language; his desperate and uncertain repentance; +his general and doubtsome faith; his holy +water, baptizing of bells, conjuring of spirits, +crossing, saving, anointing, conjuring, hallowing of God's +good creatures.' 'We, noblemen, barons, gentlemen, +burgesses, ministers, and commons, considering +the danger of the true Reformed religion, of the +king's honour, and of the public peace of the +kingdom by the manifold innovations and evils generally +contained and particularly mentioned in our late +supplications, complaints, and protestations, do +hereby profess, and before God, his angels, and the +world, solemnly declare that with our whole hearts +we agree and resolve all the days of our life +constantly to adhere unto and defend the foresaid true +religion, and forbearing the practice of all novations +already introduced in the matter of the worship of +God, or approbations of the corruptions of the public +government of the Kirk, till they be tried or allowed +in free Assemblies and in Parliaments, to labour by +all means lawful to recover the purity and liberty of +the Gospel.' 'Neither do we fear the aspersions of +rebellion, combination, or what else our adversaries, +from their craft and malice, could put upon us, +seeing what we do is well warranted, and ariseth +from an unfeigned desire to maintain the true worship +of God, the majesty of our king, and the peace of +the kingdom, for the common happiness of ourselves +and posterity. And because we cannot look for a +blessing of God on our proceedings except with our +subscription we gave such a life and conversation as +becometh Christians who have renewed their covenant +with God, we therefore promise to endeavour +to be good examples to others of all godliness, +soberness, and righteousness, and of every duty we owe +to God and man. And we call the living God, the +Searcher of hearts, to witness, as we shall answer to +Jesus in that great day, under pain of God's +ever-lasting wrath and of infamy; most humbly beseeching +the Lord to strengthen us with his Holy Spirit +for this end.' And this," added Dr. Antony, "has +been sworn to not in the Greyfriars' Church alone; +but by crowds, signed with their blood on parchment +spread on the stones of the churchyards in Edinburgh +and Glasgow; yea, in church after church, +in city, village, and on hill-side, from John o'Groats' +House to the Borders, from Mull to Fife, with tears, +and shouts, and fervent prayers." +</p> + +<p> +"And this means?" said my Father. +</p> + +<p> +"It means that the Scottish nation will rather die +than submit to Archbishop Laud's ceremonies and +canons; but that they mean neither to die nor to +submit; that every covenanted congregation will +be a recruiting ground, if necessary, fora covenanted +army; that the oath sworn in the Kirk they are +prepared to fulfil on the battle-field." +</p> + +<p> +"And a goodly army they might soon discipline," +said my Father, "with the military officers they have +trained under the great Gustavus." +</p> + +<p> +"It means," added Dr. Antony, lowering his +voice, "that they are ready to kindle a fire for +religion and liberty in Scotland which will not stop at +the Borders, and will find fuel enough in every +county in England." +</p> + +<p> +"The Court had better, for its own peace, have +heeded Jenny Geddes' folding-stool," said my Father. +</p> + +<p> +"For his own peace," rejoined Aunt Dorothy, +"but scarcely for ours." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +From that time (1638), through more than a +quarter of a century, public and private life were +so intertwined that no faithful history can divide +them. In quieter times, while the great historical +paintings are being wrought in parliament-houses +and palaces, countless small family-pictures are being +woven entirely independent of these in countless +homes. But in times of revolution, national history +and private story are interwoven into one great +tapestry, from which the humblest figure cannot be +detached without unravelling the whole web. +</p> + +<p> +Such times are hard, but they are ennobling. Or +at least they are enlarging. Faults, and ordinary +virtues become crimes, or heroical virtues, by mere +force of temperature and space. Principles are +tested; pretences are dissolved by the fact of being +pretences. Such times are ennobling, but they are +also necessarily tragical. All noble lives—all lives +worth living—are expanded from the small circles +of everyday domestic circumstances into portions of +the grand orbits of the worlds. Yet, doubtless, +thereby in themselves such lives must often become +fragments instead of wholes, must seem in themselves +unfinished, must be in themselves inexplicable. +</p> + +<p> +But, indeed, are not the histories of nations, and +revolutions themselves, even the grandest, but +fragments of those greater orbits of which we scarcely, +even in centuries, can trace the movement? Is it +any wonder then that national histories as well as +personal should often seem tragical? As now, alas, +to us! poor tempest-tossed fragments of the ship's +company which we deemed should have brought +home the argosies for ages to come, driven to these +untrodden far off shores; whilst to England, instead +of the golden fleece of peace and liberty, our +enterprise may seem but to have brought a tyranny more +cruel and a court more corrupt. Yet may there be +something in the future which, to those who look +back, will explain all! +</p> + +<p> +For England; and perhaps even for these wild +shores which we fondly call New England! +</p> + +<p> +Can it be possible that we have won the Golden +Fleece, and have brought it hither? +</p> + +<p> +There is something, moreover, in having lived in +times of storm. The temperature is raised at such +times; all life is keener, colour more vivid, and +growth more rapid. +</p> + +<p> +A nation in revolution is, in more ways than one, +like a ship in a storm. The dividing barriers of +selfishness are dissolved for a time into a common +passion of patriotic hope, purpose, and endeavour. +We feel our common humanity in our common +throbs of hope and fear, in our common efforts for +deliverance. And we are (or ought to be) nobler, +and more large of heart for ever afterwards. And +I think the greater part are. Perhaps, in some +measure, all; unless, indeed, it be the ship's cats, +who, no doubt, privately pursue the ship's mice +with undeviating purpose through the raging of +winds and waves, and look on the strife of the +elements as a providential arrangement to enable them +to fulfil their mousing destinies with less +interruption. +</p> + +<p> +And what such times of revolution do for a nation, +ought not Christianity, the great perpetual +revolution, to do for us always? +</p> + +<p> +The great hindrance seems to me to be, that it is +so much easier to be partizans than patriots, +whether in the Church or State. +</p> + +<p> +If men would do for the country what they do +for the party, what a country we should have! +</p> + +<p> +If Christians would do for the Church what they +do for their sect, what a world we should have! +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of a century, from the signing of +the Covenant in the High Kirk of Edinburgh, the +long struggle went on. Nor has it ceased yet, +though the combatants have changed, and the +battle-field. +</p> + +<p> +The Scottish covenanted congregations grew +quickly indeed into a covenanted army, and +advanced to the border. The King, by Archbishop +Laud's counsel, disbelieving in the Covenant, +proclaimed that if within six weeks the Scotch did not +renounce it, he would come and chastise them (in a +fatherly way) with an army. The King and +Archbishop Laud regarded the Covenant as a freak of +rebellious misguided children. The Scotch regarded +it as the portion of the eternal law of God which +they then had to keep; and would keep, or die. +</p> + +<p> +A difference not to be settled by royal proclamation. +</p> + +<p> +The Scotch had the advantage of <i>being</i> their own +army, ready to fight for their Divine law; while +the king had to pay his army with the coin of the +realm, and never could inspire them to the end with +the conviction that they were fighting for anything +but coin of the realm. +</p> + +<p> +The coin of the realm, moreover, lay in the keeping +of those dragons called Parliaments, which his +majesty had termed "vipers" at their last meeting, +and in a letter to Strafford, had compared to "cats," +tameable when young, "cursed" if allowed to grow +old, and which he had therefore banished underground +for eleven years into shadow and silence. +</p> + +<p> +When, therefore, the king and the Covenanted +army met on the borders, it was found that the +Scotch, commanded, as my Father said, by old +Gustavus Adolphus's officers; every regiment as in +that old Swedish army, also a congregation, meeting +morning and evening round its banner of +"Christ's crown and covenant," for prayer was a +rock against which the English army might vainly +break; but from which, as the event proved, it +preferred to ebb silently away, the pay for which only +it professed to fight, being, moreover, exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +The king took refuge in a treaty, promising to +leave Kirk affairs in the hands of the Kirk, and to +call a free assembly. Poor gentleman, his promises +were still believed to have some small amount of +truth in them, and a pacification was effected. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the moment of hope for those who +had been watching those movements with the +intensest interest in England. +</p> + +<p> +Of the two evils, a remonstrating Parliament in +London and a fighting Kirk in Scotland, the former +now appeared to the king the least. In the keeping +of the Parliament, dragon-monster as it seemed to +him, lay the gold. And once more, after a silence +of eleven years, on the 15th of April, 1640, the +Parliament was summoned; a weapon welded by +the wrongs and the patience of eleven years into a +temper the king had done well to heed. +</p> + +<p> +Pym and Hampden were the chief spokesmen, +and Mr. Cromwell sat for Huntingdon. +</p> + +<p> +At the last Parliament they, and brave men like +them, had wept bitter tears at the king's arbitrary +measures, and at his false dealing. +</p> + +<p> +At this Parliament there were no tears shed. +There were no disrespectful or hasty words spoken. +</p> + +<p> +It was as if in spirit they met around the grave +of the martyred Sir John Eliot, and would do or +say nothing to dishonour the grave to which since +last they met he had been brought for liberty. +</p> + +<p> +But no portion of the hoarded treasure could the +king force or cajole from their grasp. The court +insisted on supplies. The Parliament insisted on +grievances. +</p> + +<p> +And on May the 5th, the king dissolved the Parliament. +</p> + +<p> +My Father's voice trembled with emotion when he +heard it. "They would have saved him!" he said. +"They would have saved the country and the king!" +</p> + +<p> +Said Aunt Dorothy grimly, "The king prefers +armies to parliaments; and no doubt he will have +his choice." +</p> + +<p> +A second royal army was raised by enforcing +ship-money, seizing the pepper of the Indian +merchants, and compelling loans, filling the towns and +cities with angry men who dared not resist, and the +prisons with brave men who dared. And to rouse +the country further, the queen appealed publicly +for aid to the Roman Catholics, whilst Archbishop +Laud demanded contributions of the clergy. Earl +Strafford, recalled from Ireland, was appointed +commander-in-chief. The court endeavoured also to +enkindle the fury of the old Border war-memories; +but the Borderers were brethren in the faith, and, +refusing to hate each other, combined in hating the +bishops. +</p> + +<p> +The second army melted like the first, after some +little heartless fighting in a cause they hated; +having distinguished itself mainly by shouting its +sympathy with the Puritan preachers in the various +towns through which it passed; by insisting on +testing whether its commanders were Papists before +it would follow them to the field; and by draining +the king's treasury, so that he could proceed no +further without once more looking to the dreaded +guardians of the gold. +</p> + +<p> +"They meet in a different temper from the last," +my Father said, as we walked home from the village, +where we had eagerly hastened to meet the flying +Post, who galloped from one patriot's house to +another with printed sheets and letters containing the +account of the king's opening speech on the 3d of +November; "as different as the sweet May days +of promise during which the Little Parliament +debated, from the gray fogs which creep along the +Fens before our eyes to-day. Summer, and hope, +and restitution brightened before that April +Parliament. Over this lower winter, storms, and +retribution; slow clearing of the stubble-fields of +centuries, stern ploughing of the soil for better harvests, +not to be reaped, perchance, by the hands that +sow." +</p> + +<p> +For the six months between had been ill-filled by +the court party. +</p> + +<p> +I remember now how one day during those +months my Father's hands trembled and his voice +grew low as a whisper as he read to us a letter +telling how a poor reckless young drummer lad, +who, when, on leave from the army in the north, +had joined a wild mob of London apprentices in an +attack on Lambeth Palace, had been racked and +tortured in the Tower to make him confess his +accomplices; and torture failing to make him base, +poor boy, how he had been hanged and quartered +the day after. +</p> + +<p> +"They dared not torture Felton a few years since +for the murder of Buckingham," my Father said, +"and now they twist this boy's offence into treason, +because, forsooth, a drum chanced to be sounded by +the mob, that the poor misguided lad may suffer +the traitor's doom, and the honour of his Holiness, +their Pontifex Maximus, their Archangel, as they +call him, be avenged." +</p> + +<p> +(These were the things that silenced the pleadings +of pity in good and merciful men when, in +after years, the Archbishop was brought to the +scaffold. +</p> + +<p> +Now that the crime and its avenging all are past, +and victim, slayer, avenger, all have met before the +great Bar, it is hard to recall the passion of +indignation these deeds awakened in the gentlest hearts +when they were being done with little chance of +ever being avenged. But is not the most inflexible +judgment the offspring of outraged mercy?) +</p> + +<p> +All through that summer the king, the archbishop, +and Strafford went on accumulating wrongs on the +nation, too surely to recoil on themselves. +</p> + +<p> +There may have been many tyrannies more terrible. +Never could there have been one more irritating, +more ingenious in sowing discontents in +every corner of the land. +</p> + +<p> +The archbishop in convocation made a new canon, +requiring every clergyman and every graduate of +the universities to take an oath that all things +necessary to salvation were contained in the +doctrine and discipline of the Church of England, as +distinguished from Presbyterianism and Papistry. +</p> + +<p> +I remember that canon especially, because it +brought Roger home from Oxford, where he had +been studying during the past two years, and was +about to take his degree, and led to results, sad +indeed for us, though not exactly among the miseries +to be set down to the archbishop. Roger would +not swear, he said, against the religion of half the +kingdom, at least without understanding it better. +</p> + +<p> +From Northamptonshire, Kent, Devonshire,—old +conservative Kent and the loyal West,—came up +indignant petitions against this canon. London was +exasperated by the committal of four aldermen who +refused to set before the king the names of those +persons within their wards who were able to lend +his majesty money; every borough in the kingdom +was aroused by the presence of its members +ignominiously dismissed from the dissolved Parliament; +nine boroughs were still more deeply moved by the +absence of their members, imprisoned the day after +the dissolution in the Tower. Every day brought +reports of some fresh victim fined in the +Star-Chamber on account of the odious ship-money. +Especial complaints came from the North, which +Strafford was grinding with the steady pressure of +his presence in the council at York. +</p> + +<p> +And meantime the friendly Scots were practically +inculcating Presbyterianism and the advantages of +armed resistance in the four counties beyond the +Tees, where they had been left in possession until +they received the price wherewith the king had paid +them for rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +There was much stir and movement in the land all +through those months. Netherby lay close to the +high road, and we had many visitors. Mr. Cromwell +once, on his way to Cambridge (for which place he +then sate in Parliament), brief in speech and to the +point, hearty in look, and word, and gesture, and also +at times in laughter. Mr. Hampden, dignified and +courtly as any nobleman of the king's court. +Mr. Pym, with firm, close-set lips and grave eyes. He +came more than once on horseback, and put up for +the night, on one of the many rides he took at that +time around the country to stir up the patriots to +act together. My father also was often absent +attending meetings of the country party at Broughton +Hall, the Lord Brooks' mansion, near Oxford, where +Roger, being at the university, sometimes met him. +</p> + +<p> +So the summer passed on, its perishable things +fading, and its enduring things ripening into autumn. +Crop after crop of royal promises budded and +bloomed and bore no fruit, until the people grew +sorrowfully to understand that royal words, like +flowers cultivated into barrenness in royal gardens, +were never purposed to bear fruit, but only to +attract with empty show of blossom. The nobles +petitioned for a Parliament; ten thousand citizens +of London, in spite of threats, petitioned for +parliament; and at last once more the king summoned it. +</p> + +<p> +A month afterwards, early in December, my Father +called the household around the great hall fire to hear +a letter from Dr. Antony: +</p> + +<p> + "<i>To my very loving friend,</i><br> + "<i>Roger Drayton, Esq.,</i><br> + "<i>November</i> 28<i>th.</i><br> +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Present these.</i> +</p> + +<p> +"HONOURED SIR,—Let us rejoice and praise God +together. My occupation is gone. The prisons bid +fair to be cleared of all save their rightful tenants. +Parish after parish will welcome back faithful +ministers, undone and imprisoned by Star-Chamber and +High Commission. Heaven send that prison and +persecution have made their voices strong and gentle, +and not bitter and shrill; for I have found the devil +not locked out by prison-bolts. And too surely also +he will find his way into triumphal processions such +as we have had in London to-day, on behalf of +Mistress Olive's old friends, Mr. Prynne, Mr. Bastwick, +and Mr. Burton. But let me set my narrative +in order. +</p> + +<p> +"A fortnight before the Parliament was opened +two thousand rioters had torn down the benches in +St. Paul's, where the cruel High Commission were +sitting, shouting that they would have no bishop, +no High Commission. Now these disorders cease. +Once more the gag is off the lips of every borough +and county in Old England; and the bitter helpless +moans and wild inarticulate cries which have vainly +filled the land these eleven years give place to calm +and temperate speech. Petitions and remonstrances +pour in from north, south, east and west; some +brought by troops of horsemen. The calmest voices +are heard more clearly. +</p> + +<p> +"'He is a great stranger in Israel,' said Lord +Falkland, 'who knoweth not that this kingdom hath +long laboured under great oppression both in +religion and liberty. Under pretence of uniformity +they have brought in superstition and scandal; +under the titles of reverence and decency they have +defiled our Church by adorning our churches. They +have made the conforming to ceremonies more +important than the conforming to Christianity.' +</p> + +<p> +"Said Sir Edward Deering, in attacking the High +Commission Court,— +</p> + +<p> +"'A Pope at Rome will do me less hurt than a +patriarch at Lambeth.' +</p> + +<p> +"Said Sir Benjamin Rudyard,— +</p> + +<p> +"'We have seen ministers, their wives, and families, +undone against law, against conscience, about +not dancing on Sundays. They have brought it so +to pass, that under the name of Puritans all our +religion is branded. Whosoever squares his actions +by any rule divine or human, he is a Puritan; +whosoever would be governed by the king's laws, +he is a Puritan; he that will not do whatsoever +other men will have him do, he is a Puritan.' +</p> + +<p> +"The Commons had not sate four days when, on +the 7th of November, by warrant of the house, they +sent for Mr. Prynne, Mr. Bastwick, and Mr. Burton, +from their prisons beyond the seas, to certify by +whose authority they had been mutilated, branded, +and imprisoned. +</p> + +<p> +"And now after three weeks these three gentlemen, +freed from their sea-washed dungeons in Jersey, +Guernsey, and the Scilly Islands, have this day +arrived in the city. All the way from the coast they +have been eagerly welcomed, escorted by troops +of friends with songs and garlands, from town to +town. +</p> + +<p> +"Five thousand citizens of condition rode forth +on horseback to meet them, among them many a +citizen's wife, and all with bay and rosemary in +their hats and caps, to do honour to those their +enemies had vainly sought to shame. I trow brave +Mrs. Bastwick, who stood tearless by her husband +at the pillory, and who hath not been suffered to see +him in his prison since, thought it no shame to +unman him by shedding tears of joy to-day. Old +gray-haired Mr. Leighton, moreover, bent with +imprisonment and torture, and young John Lilburn, +for whom Mr. Cromwell so fervently pleaded, were +there to share the triumph, all marked with honourable +scars from the Star-Chamber. This outside the +city. And within, at Westminster, another +victory—not a triumph but a victory—not festive, but +solemn and tragical, as victories on battle-fields are +wont to be. +</p> + +<p> +"This day at the bar of the House of Peers, about +three of the clock in the afternoon, Mr. Pym, in the +name of all the Commons of England, impeached +Thomas, Earl of Strafford, of high treason. And +this night Lord Strafford lodges in the Tower. +</p> + +<p> +"He is too stately a cedar that there should not +be something great in his fall. +</p> + +<p> +"Scorning the Commons' message, with a proud-glooming +countenance the earl made towards his +place at the head of the board. But at once many +bade him void the house. Sullenly he had to move +to the door till he was called. There he, at whose +door so many vainly waited, had to wait till he was +summoned. Loftily he stood to hear the sentence +of the House. He was commanded to kneel, and on +his knees he was committed prisoner to the Keeper +of the Black Rod. He would have spoken, but he +who had silenced England for eleven years was +sternly silenced now, and had to go without a word. +In the outer room they demanded his sword. The +carl cried to his serving-man with a loud voice to +take my Lord-Lieutenant's sword. A crowd thronged +the doors of the House as he stepped out to his +coach. No fellow capped to him before whom +yesterday not a noble in England would have stood +uncovered with impunity. One cried to another, +'What is the matter?' 'A small matter, I warrant +you,' quoth the earl. Coming to where he had left +his coach he found it not, and had to walk back +again through the gazing, gaping crowd. He was +not suffered to enter his own coach, but was carried +away a prisoner in that of the Keeper of the Black +Rod. +</p> + +<p> +"And this night he lodges—scarce, I trow, rests +or sleeps—in the Tower. Will the memory of his +old companion in the days before he turned traitor +to England and liberty, our noble murdered patriot +Eliot, haunt his memory there? From his ghost the +earl is safe enough. Such ghosts are in other +keeping and other company. And for the earl's memory, +darker recollections than that of Eliot with all his +wrongs may well haunt it, if report speaks truth; +recollections which the Old Tower itself, with all +its chambers of death, can scarce outgloom. +</p> + +<p> +"But Lord Strafford is not a man to dream while +there is work to be done, or to look back when life +may hang on his wisdom in looking forward. +</p> + +<p> +"The first stroke is struck, but the cedar is not +felled yet. Nor can any surmise what it may bring +down with it if it falls. +</p> + +<p> +"Your faithful servant and loving friend. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"LEONARD ANTONY. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Roger will like to hear that his friend Mr. Cromwell +presented the petition for poor John Lilburn, +(some time writer for Mr. Prynne) that was +scourged from Westminster to the Fleet prison. And +also that he hath warmly espoused the cause of +certain poor countrymen whom he knows near +St. Ives, robbed of their ancient pasture-rights on a +common tyrannously enclosed by one of the queen's +servants. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Cromwell seemed to take these poor men's +wrongs sorely to heart, and spoke with a flushed +face and much vehement eloquence concerning them, +in a voice which certain courtiers thought loud and +untunable, clad in a coat and band they thought +unhandsome and made by an 'ill country-tailor,' and +in a hat without a hatband. But the Parliament +hearkened to him with much regard, and gave great +heed to what he counselled." +</p> + +<p> +Roger's eye kindled. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Cromwell will never forget the old friends +for the new," said my Father, "nor pass by little +duties in hurrying to great ends." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Then our household broke into twos and threes +debating the news. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy shook her head. "I do mourn +over it," said she. "Mr. Cromwell might do great +things. And here are the Church and State all on +fire, and the Almighty sending His lightnings on +the cedars of Lebanon and the oaks of Bashan, while +Mr. Cromwell keeps harping on these petty worldly +things; on the wrongs of an insignificant servant +of Mr. Prynne's, which no doubt would get set +right of themselves when once the great battle is +fought; and on whether some poor clodpoles near +St. Ives get a few acres more or less to feed their +sheep on. And, meanwhile, the sheep of the Lord's +pasture wandering on the mountains without pasture +or shepherd! I do think it a pity, too, that +Mr. Cromwell does not change his tailor; we ought +to provide things honest in the sight of all men. +Not but that I will say," she concluded, +"Mrs. Cromwell and the maidens might take some of +these matters on herself." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +I remember that night asking Aunt Gretel if she +thought it would be wrong to put Earl Strafford's +name into my prayers. He was not exactly an +enemy of mine, or there would be a command to do so; +and he certainly was not a friend, nor, now, any +longer "one in authority." But it went to my +heart to think how in a moment all his glory seemed +turned to dishonor, the crowd gaping on him, and +no man capping to him. +</p> + +<p> +"What wouldst thou pray for, Olive?" said Aunt +Gretel. "Certainly not that he may have power +again, and set up the Star-Chamber, and send the +three gentlemen to the pillory once more." +</p> + +<p> +"Would he do that if he got out of the Tower?" +said I. +</p> + +<p> +"The wise and good men think so, or they would +not have him sent there," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"But might he not be better always afterwards?" +I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"The people cannot trust that he would," she +said. "Even if he promised ever so much and +intended it, they could not at once trust him." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it too late then for him to be forgiven?" I +said. +</p> + +<p> +"Too late, it seems, for men to forgive him," said +she, very gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"But never too late for God?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"No, never too late for God," said she, slowly. +"Because God knows when we really intend to give +up sinning, even when we can do nothing to show +it to men. So it is never too late for Him to take +His prodigals home to his bosom." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I can ask for that," said I. And I did. +But that night there sank down on my heart for +the first time (the first time of so many in the +solemn years that, followed) the terrible words, "Too +late;" the terrible sense that an hour may come +when, if repentance towards God is still possible, +reparation to man and mercy from man are possible +no longer. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +This fervour of patriotic life which animated us +all at Netherby made us rather hard, I am afraid, +on Cousin Placidia. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the year, after our sojourn at Davenant +Hall, she had tried Roger and me (and I believe +also secretly Aunt Dorothy) very seriously by +becoming in her way exceedingly religious. One +winter morning when Roger and I were busy with +my father about our Italian lessons at one end of +the hall, the following discussion took place +between Placidia and Aunt Dorothy over their +spinning near the hearth. Placidia had seen, she +informed Aunt Dorothy, the vanity of all things +under the sun, the folly of pride, and the wickedness +of all worldly pomp, and she washed decidedly to +take her place "on the Lord's side," to work out +betimes her own salvation, and to secure for herself +an abundant entrance into the kingdom. Aunt +Dorothy spoke of the heart being deceitful, and +hoped Placidia would make sure of her foundation. +Placidia rejoined with some slight resentment as to +any doubts of her orthodoxy, that she humbly trusted +she knew as well as any one, that every one's heart +was indeed deceitful above all things and desperately +wicked, that is, every ungodly person's; indeed +one only needed to look around in any direction to see +it. Aunt Dorothy replied that, for her part, she +found her own heart still very ingenious in deceiving +her, and in need of a great deal of daily watching. +</p> + +<p> +Placidia admitted the necessity. Indeed, she +said, that on a review of her life she felt that, +although she had been mercifully preserved from +many infirmities which beset other people, (her temper +being naturally even, and her tastes sober,) still +no doubt she shared in the universal depravity. +But she had, like Jacob at Bethel, she said, made +a solemn covenant with God, promising to give Him +henceforth His due portion of her affections and +substance; she had signed and sealed it on her knees, +and she believed she was accepted, that she was on +the Lord's side, and that, as with Jacob, He would +henceforth be on hers. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy's spinning-wheel flew with ominous +rapidity, but some moments passed before she +replied. Then she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"My dear, I trust that you know the difference +between a <i>covenant</i> and a <i>bargain</i>. The patriarch +Jacob, on the whole, no doubt meant well, but I +never much liked his 'ifs' and 'thens' with the +Almighty. The best kind of covenants, I think, are +those which begin on the other side. As when the +Lord said to Abraham, 'Fear not, Abraham, I am +thy shield and thy exceeding great reward.' Or, +'I am the Almighty God, walk before me and be +thou perfect.' Then follow the promises, lavish as +His riches, which fill heaven and earth; free as the +air He gives us to breathe. When God gives there +is no limit, no reserve, no condition. But, on the +other hand, neither is there reserve, or condition, or +limit when He demands. It is not so much for so +much, but <i>all</i> surrendered in absolute trust. It is, +'Be thou perfect;' it is, 'Leave thy country, and +thy kindred, and thy father's house;' it is, 'Give +me thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou +lovest.' Is this what you mean by a covenant with God? +Think well, for He 'is not mocked.' His hand is +larger than ours, as the sea is larger than a +drinking-cup; but He will not accept our hands half +full." +</p> + +<p> +Said Placidia,— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy, I have no intention whatever of +being half for the world and half for God. I have +no opinion at all of the religion which can dance +round May-poles on the week-day, and attend the +worship of God on Sundays; or fast and pray on +Fridays, wear mourning in Lent, and be decked out +in curls, and laces, and jewels, on feast-days. I +have made up my mind never to wear a feather, or +a trinket, or a bit of lace to my band, or a laced +stomacher, nor to use crisping-tongs, nor to indulge +in any kind of 'dissoluteness in hair,' nor ever to +sport any gayer colour in mantle or wimple than +gray, or at the most 'liver colour.' I have not the +least intention, Aunt Dorothy, of trying to serve +two masters. I know in that way we gain nothing. +But I do believe that those that honour Him He +will honour, and that godliness hath promise of +the life that now is as well as of that which is to +come." +</p> + +<p> +"The Lord's honours are not often like King +Ahasuerus's," said Aunt Dorothy, gravely; "the +Crowns of those He delighted to honour have sometimes +been of fire, and their royal apparel of sack-cloth. +There is such a thing," she continued, her +wheel whirling like a whirlwind, "as serving only +one master, yet that not the right one, though taking +His name. And we are near the brink of that +precipice whenever we seek any reward from the +Master beyond His 'Well done.' '<i>I</i> am thy shield,'" +she concluded, "'<i>I, the Lord Himself;</i>' not what +He promises or what He gives, though it were to +be the half of His kingdom." +</p> + +<p> +By this time my Father's attention had been +aroused to the discussion, and rising from the table +and approaching the spinners, he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"What you say, sister Dorothy, reminds me of +some words I heard lately in a letter of Mr. Cromwell's. +'Truly no creature hath more cause,' he +wrote, 'to put himself forth in the cause of his God +than I. I have had plentiful wages beforehand, +and I am sure I shall never earn the least mite.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Yea, verily," said Aunt Dorothy, "Mr. Cromwell +may waste too much thought on draining and +dyking; but he is a godly gentleman, and he under +stands the Covenant." +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Placidia, however, pursued her course, +and continued a living rebuke to Roger and me if +we indulged in too noisy merriment, and to any of +the maids who were tempted into a gayer kirtle or +ribbon than ordinary. On Sunday she was never +known to smile, nor on any other day to laugh, +except in a mild moderate manner, as a polite +concession to any one who expected it in response to a +facetious remark. +</p> + +<p> +Her conversation meantime became remarkably +scriptural. She did not allow herself an indulgence +which she did not justify by a text; if her dresses +wore longer than usual, so as to spare her purse, +she looked on it as a proof that she had been +marvellously helped with wisdom in the choice. If she +escaped the various accidents which not unfrequently +brought me into disgrace, and my clothes to +premature ruin, she regarded it as an interference of +Providence, like to that which watched over the +Israelites in the wilderness. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, it seemed to Roger and me that Placidia's +primary meaning of being "on the Lord's side" +was, that in a general way the Almighty should do +what she liked; and that in particular the weather +should be arranged with considerate reference as to +whether she had on her new taffetas or her old +woolsey. Great therefore was our relief, although +great also our astonishment, when Aunt Dorothy +announced to us one day that Cousin Placidia was +about to be married to Mr. Nicholls, the vicar of +Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you not surprised?" I ventured to ask of +my Father. "Cousin Placidia is such a Precisian, +as they call it, and Mr. Nicholls thinks so much of +Archbishop Laud." +</p> + +<p> +"Not much surprised, Olive," he said. "I think +Placidia's religion and Mr. Nicholls' are a little alike. +Both have a great deal to do with the colour and +shape of clothes, and with the places and times at +which things are done, and the way in which they +are said. And both are prudent persons, desirous +of taking a respectable place in the world in a +religious way. I should think they would agree very +well." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy was at once indignant and consoled. +</p> + +<p> +"I never quite trusted Placidia's professions," +said she; "but this, I confess, goes beyond my +fears. A person who never passes what he calls +the altar without making obeisances such as the +old heathens made to the sun and the moon, and +who, not six months ago, defiled the house of God +with Popish incense!" +</p> + +<p> +But Cousin Placidia had explanations which were +quite satisfactory to herself. +</p> + +<p> +"She had had so many providential intimations," +she said (one of the habits of Placidia that always +most exasperated Roger was her way of always doing +what she wished, because, she said, some one else +wished it; and since she had become religious, she +usually threw the responsibility on the Highest +Quarter)—"intimations so plain, that she could not +disregard them without disobedience. Mr. Nicholls' +coming to Netherby at all was the consequence of +a series of most remarkable circumstances, entirely +beyond his own control. The way in which the +prejudice against each other, with which they +began, had by degrees changed into esteem, and then +into something more, was also very remarkable. +And what was most remarkable of all was, that on +the very morning of the day when he proposed to +her, she had—quite by chance, as it might seem, +but that there was no such thing as chance—opened +the Bible on the passage, 'Get thee out from thy +country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's +house, into a land that I will shew thee: and I will +bless thee.'" +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear," remarked Aunt Gretel, to whom, +Aunt Dorothy being unapproachable, Placidia had +made this explanation—"my dear, you are not going +to leave your country, are you? and you do know +the land to which you are going." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," said Placidia, "there are always +differences. But the application was certainly very +remarkable. Mr. Nicholls quite agreed with me, +when I told him of it." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt, my dear, no doubt," said Aunt Gretel, +retreating. "But there does seem a little +difference in your opinions." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle Drayton says we should look on the +things in which we agree, more than on those in +which we differ," said Placidia. "Besides, if Aunt +Dorothy would only see it, I really trust I have +been already useful to Mr. Nicholls. He said, only +yesterday, he thought there was a good deal to be +said in favour of some late ordinances of the +Parliament against too close approach to Papistical +ceremonies. Mr. Nicholls had never any propension +towards the Pope; and he thinks now that, it may +be, his canonical obedience to Archbishop Laud led +him to some unwise compliances. But the powers +that be, he says, must always have their due honour. +The great point is, to ascertain which powers be, +and which only seem to be. And now that the +Parliament has impeached Archbishop Laud, and +sent him to the Tower, this is really an exceedingly +difficult question for a conscientious clergyman, who +is also a good subject, to determine." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel did not pursue the subject, she being +always in fear of losing her way, and straying into +wildernesses, when English politics or rubrics came +into question. +</p> + +<p> +And in due time Placidia became Mistress Nicholls, +and removed to the parsonage, with a generous +dowry from my Father, and everything that by the +most liberal interpretation could in any way be +construed into belonging to her, down to a pair of +perfumed Cordova gloves which had been given her +by some gay kinswoman, and, having been thrown +aside in a closet as useless vanities, cost Aunt +Dorothy a long and indignant search. Everything +might be of use, said Placidia, in their humble +housekeeping. And she had always remembered a +saying she had once heard Aunt Gretel quote from +Dr. Luther,—"that what the husband makes by +earning, the wife multiplies by sparing." +</p> + +<p> +"An invaluable maxim," she remarked, "for people +in narrow circumstances, who had married from +pure godly affection, without passion or ambition, +despising all worldly considerations, like herself +and Mr. Nicholls." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was a strange Christmas to many in England, +that first in the stormy life of the Long Parliament. +Earl Stratford had been in the Tower since the 28th +of November. A week before Christmas day +Archbishop Laud had been impeached and committed to +custody. There was no thought of the Parliament +dispersing. Mr. Pym and others of the patriot +members were occupied with preparing for Lord +Strafford's trial, which did not begin until the 22nd +of the following March. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, faithful voices, long silent in +prisons, were heard again in many pulpits throughout +the land. +</p> + +<p> +Judge Berkeley, who had given the unjust decision +in favour of ship-money, was seized on the +bench in his ermine, and taken to prison like a +common felon. +</p> + +<p> +The great thunder-cloud of Star-chamber and +High Commission Court had dispersed. The Puritans +and Patriots breathed once more, and the great +voice of the nation, speaking at Westminster the +words which were deeds, while it quieted the cries +and groans of the oppressed country, set men's +tongues free for earnest and determined speech by +every hall hearth, and every blacksmith's forge, +and ale-house, and village-green, and place of public +or social talk throughout the country. +</p> + +<p> +The blacksmith's forge in Netherby village was +indeed a place well known to Roger and me. Job +Forster, the smith, a brave, simple-hearted giant +from Cornwall (given to despising our inland +peasants, who had never seen the sea, and suspected of +being the mainstay of a little band of sectaries in +the neighborhood), having always been Roger's +chief friend; while Rachel, his gentle, sickly, saintly +little wife (whom he cherished with a kind of +timorous tenderness, like something almost too +small and delicate for him to meddle with), had +always given me the child's place in her motherly +heart, which no child had been given to their house +to fill. Whenever we were missed in childhood, it +was commonly at Job Forster's forge we were +sought and found. And by this means we learned +a great deal of politics from Job's point of view, as +well as many marvellous stories of God's providence +by sea and land, which seemed to us to show +that God was as near to those who trust Him now, +as to the Israelites of old, which, also, Job and +Rachel most surely believed. +</p> + +<p> +But, meantime, while the clouds over England +seemed scattering, a heavy cloud gathered over us +at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +The Davenant family had come to the Hall for +the Christmas festivities. We met often during the +time they were there, more than ever before. The +ties of friendship and of neighbourhood seemed to +prevail over the party strife which had so long kept +us apart. +</p> + +<p> +Hope there was also that those party conflicts at +last might cease with the disgrace of the hated +Lord-Lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +His sudden abandonment of the patriot side, his +rapid rise, and his lofty, imperious temper, had not +failed to make enemies even among those of his +own party. Sir Walter Davenant said he had no +liking for turn-coats. They always over-acted their +new part, and commonly did more to injure the +party they joined than the party they betrayed. +The haughty earl once out of the way, the king +would listen to truer men and better servants. +</p> + +<p> +The Lady Lucy held in detestation the earl's +private character. The king, she said, was a +high-minded gentleman, an affectionate husband and +father, his presence and life had done much to +reform the court; the earl was a man of commanding +ability, but his hands were not pure enough to +defend so lofty a cause. Better men, she thought, if +in themselves weaker, would yet form stronger stays +for the throne of the anointed of God. If Lord +Strafford were displaced, she thought, the best men +of all parties would unite; would understand each +other, would understand their king, and all might +yet go well. My Father, though less sanguine, was +not without hope, although on rather different +grounds. While Lady Lucy believed that Lord +Strafford's violence and evil life were a weakness to +the cause she deemed in itself sacred, my Father +thought that Lord Strafford's power of character +and mind were a fatal strength to the cause he +deemed in itself evil. The earl once gone, he +believed the king would never find such another prop +for his arbitrary measures, the lesser tyrant would +fall like an arch with the key-stone out, and the +king would yield, perforce, to the just demands of +the nation. +</p> + +<p> +However, for the time, Lord Strafford's imprisonment +formed a bond of sympathy between the two +families, to Roger's and my great content. Much +friendly rivalry there was in the Christmas +adornment of the two transepts with wreaths of ivy and +holly, ending in a free confession of defeat on our +part, as our somewhat clumsy bunches of evergreen +stood out in contrast with the graceful wreaths and +festoons with which Lettice had made the memory +of the Davenants green. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she enjoyed her triumph, and then +begging permission to make a little change in our +arrangements, with that quick perception of hers, +and those fairy fingers which never could touch +anything without weaving something of their own +grace into it, in an hour or two she had made the +massive columns and heavy arches of our ancestral +chapel light and graceful as the most decorated +monument of the Davenants, with traceries of +glossy leaves and berries. +</p> + +<p> +Lettice's birthday was on Twelfth Night. She +was fifteen, nearly two years younger than I was, +and three than Roger. +</p> + +<p> +There was great merry-making at the Hall that +day. In the morning distributings of garments to +all the maidens in the parish of Lettice's age, by +her own hands. She had some kindly or merry +word for every one, and throughout the day was +the soul of all the festivities. There was such a +fullness of life and enjoyment in her; such a power of +going out of herself altogether into the pleasures or +wants of others. She seemed to me the centre of +all, just as the sun is, by sending her sunbeams +everywhere. While every one else was full of the +thought of her, she was full only of shining into +every neglected corner and shy blossom, making +every one feel glad and cared for, down to Gammer +Grindle's idiot boy. +</p> + +<p> +It was a wonderful joy for me to be Lettice's +friend. I had almost as much delight in her as Sir +Walter, who watched her with such pride, or Lady +Lucy, whose eyes so oft moistened as they rested +on her. She would have it that Roger and I must +be at her right hand in everything. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon Harry Davenant came with Sir +Launcelot Trevor. Harry looked rather grave, I +thought, but he was naturally that; and Lettice's +gaiety soon infected him so that he became foremost +in the games, which lasted until the sun went down, +and the servants and villagers dispersed to kindle +up the twelve bonfires. But Sir Launcelot looked +sorely out of temper. His heavy brows quite +lowered over his keen, dark eyes, so that they flashed +out beneath like the stormy light under a thunder +cloud. He scarcely bent to my Father or to any +of us; and although he was lavish as ever of +compliments to Lady Lucy and Lettice, his brow +scarcely relaxed to correspond with the lip-smiles with +which he accompanied them. +</p> + +<p> +When the sun was fairly set, the twelve fires +were kindled, this time on the field in front of the +Hall, in honour of Lettice, instead of as usual on the +village green. +</p> + +<p> +We waited to see them kindle up, and then we +left. Roger stayed behind us. There was to be +songs and dances round the fires, and then feasting +in the Hall late into the night. But Roger only +intended to remain a little while to see the +merriment begin. +</p> + +<p> +I remember looking back for a last glimpse of the +fires as they leapt and sank, one moment lighting +up every battlement of the turrets, and all the +carving of the windows with lurid light, and flashing +back from the glass like carbuncles; the next +substituting for the reality their own fantastic light +and goblin shadows, so that not a corner or gable +of the old building looked like itself. And I +remember afterwards that close by one of the fires +were standing Roger and Lettice, and Sir Launcelot, +near each other; Roger piling wood on the fire +at Lettice's direction, and Sir Launcelot standing a +little apart with folded arms watching them. His +face looked red and angry. I thought it was +perhaps because of the angry glare of the flames. Yet +something made me long to turn back and bring +Roger away with us. It was impossible. But +involuntarily I looked back once more: the flames +leapt up at the moment, and then I saw Sir Launcelot +and Roger as clearly as in daylight, apparently +in eager debate. +</p> + +<p> +I lingered to watch them, but just then the fitful +flames fell, I could see no more, and I had to hasten +on to follow my Father and Aunt Gretel home. +</p> + +<p> +Before we reached home the clouds, which had +been threatening all day, began to fall in showers +of hail. We had not been in an hour when, as we +were sitting over the hall fire, talking cheerily over +the doings of the day, Roger suddenly entered, his +face ashen-white, his eyes like burning coals, and, +in a low voice, called my Father out to speak to +him outside. For a few minutes, which seemed to +me hours, we sat in suspense, Aunt Gretel's knitting +falling on her lap, in entire disregard of +consequence to the stitches—Aunt Dorothy's spinning-wheel +whirling as if driven by the Furies. Then +my Father returned alone, as pale as Roger. +</p> + +<p> +He seated himself again, with his arms on his +knees and his hands over his face—an attitude I had +never seen him in before. It made him look like +an old man; and I remember noticing for the first +that his hair was growing gray. +</p> + +<p> +No one asked any questions. +</p> + +<p> +At length, in a calm, low voice, my Father said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Roger and Sir Launcelot Trevor have quarrelled. +Roger struck Sir Launcelot, and he fell against one +of the great logs of the bonfires. He is wounded +severely, and Roger is going to ride to Cambridge +for a physician." +</p> + +<p> +"In such a night!" said Aunt Gretel; "not a +star; and the hail has been driving against the +panes this half hour!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is the best thing Roger can do," said my +Father, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The next minute we heard the ring of a horse's +hoofs on the pavement of the court, and then the +sound of a long gallop dying slowly away on the +road amidst the howling of the wind and the +clattering of the hail. +</p> + +<p> +But no one spoke until the household were +gathered for family prayer. +</p> + +<p> +There was no variation in the chapter read or in +the usual words of prayer; only a tremulous depth +in my Father's voice as he asked for blessings on +the son and daughter of the house. +</p> + +<p> +And afterwards, as I wished him good-night, he +leant his hand on my head, and said— +</p> + +<p> +"Watch and pray, Olive—watch and pray, my +child, lest ye enter into temptation." +</p> + +<p> +Then I knelt down, and hid my face on his knee, +and said— +</p> + +<p> +"O Father, Roger must have been sorely +provoked—I am sure he was. I am sure it was not +Roger's fault—I am sure; so sure! Sir Launcelot +is so wicked, and I will never forgive him." +</p> + +<p> +"Roger said it was his fault, my poor little Olive," +replied my Father, very tenderly, "and that he will +never forgive <i>himself</i>. And whatever Sir Launcelot +said or did, you must forgive him, and pray that +God may forgive him; for he is very seriously hurt, +and may die." +</p> + +<p> +"Roger would be sure to say that," I said. "He +is always ready to blame himself and excuse every +one else. But, O Father, God will not let Sir +Launcelot die! What can we do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Pray! Olive," he said in a trembling +voice—"pray!" and he went to his own room. +</p> + +<p> +But all night long, whenever I woke from fitful +snatches of sleep, and went to the window to look +if the storm had passed, and if Roger were coming, +I saw the light burning in my Father's window. +</p> + +<p> +The last time Aunt Gretel crept up softly behind +me, and throwing her large wimple over me, drew +me gently away. +</p> + +<p> +"I have kept such a poor watch for Roger!" I +said; "and see! my Father's lamp is burning still. +He has been watching all night." +</p> + +<p> +"There is Another watching, Olive," she said, +softly, "night and day. The Intercessor slumbers +not, nor sleeps. It is never dark now in the Holiest +Place, for he is ever there; and never silent, for He +is ever interceding." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V. +</h3> + +<p> +When I awoke again, the cheerful stir of +life had begun within and without the +house—the ducks splashing in the pond +in the front court; the unsuccessful swine +and poultry grunting and cackling out their bill of +grievances against their stronger-snouted or +quicker-witted rivals; Tib's cheery voice instructing her +cows and calves; and at intervals the pleasant +regular beat of the flail in the barn, where they were +thrashing the corn,—striking steady time to all the +busy irregular sounds of animal life, and bringing +them into a kind of unity. +</p> + +<p> +All these homely, quiet sounds seemed stranger +to me than the howling of the winds, and fitful +clattering of the hail, through the night. They +made me feel impatient with the animals, and with +Tib, and with the inflexible every-day course of +things. Was not Roger—our own Roger—in agony +worse than mortal sickness, in suspense whether or +not his hand had dealt a death-blow. Were not we +in dreadful suspense whether his whole life might +not be overshadowed from this moment as with a +curse? +</p> + +<p> +And yet the calves must be fed, and the swine +snuff at their troughs and grudge if they be not +satisfied, and the ducks splash and preen themselves +as if nothing was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +There are many seasons in life when the quiet +flow of the stream of every-day life, as it prattles +past our door among the familiar grasses and pebbles, +falls on the heart with a sense of inflexibility +more terrible than the storm which ploughs the +waves of the Atlantic into mountains, and snaps +the masts of great ships like withered corn stalks. +</p> + +<p> +But that morning was the first on which I learned it. +</p> + +<p> +The storm had quite passed. The dawn was still +struggling with the cold winter moonlight. Far off +the gray morning shone with a steely gleam on the +creek of the Mere, were I used to sit quite still for +hours while Roger angled, holding his fish-basket, +amply rewarded at last by his dictum that there +was one little woman in the world who knew when +to hold her tongue, and by the reflecting glory of +his triumph when he brought the basket of fish to +Tib for my father's supper. Only last autumn, and +now it seemed as if it had happened in another life. +</p> + +<p> +Close to us in the high-road the moonlight still +glimmered on the pools. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel was dressed and gone. My last sleep +had been sound. I reproached myself for my +hard-heartedness in sleeping at all. +</p> + +<p> +It was still dusk enough to show the faint red +light in my Father's chamber. Was he still watching? +</p> + +<p> +My question was answered by the sound of the +psalm coming up from the hall, where the +household were gathered for family prayer. This +reminded me that it was the Sabbath-day, the only +day on which we used to sing a psalm at morning +prayers. I knelt at the window while they sang. +I heard my father's voice leading the psalm, and Aunt +Dorothy's deep second, and Aunt Gretel's tremulous +treble; but not Roger's. I felt so strange to be +listening, instead of joining in the song. Such a +thing had never happened to me before. Aunt +Gretel must have thought it good for me to sleep +on, and have crept down stairs like a ghost. But +the feeling of being <i>outside</i> was terrible to me that +morning. It brought back my old terror about +being "on the wrong side of the tree." But not so +much for myself. For Roger! for Roger! What +if he should be feeling left outside like this!—outside +the prayers, outside the hymns, outside the holy +family gatherings, outside the light and the +welcome! That morning I felt something of what +must be meant by the <i>outer</i> darkness. The darkness +outside! Even the "darkness" did not seem to me +so terrible as the being <i>outside</i>! For it showed +there was a within—a home; light within, music +within, the Father's welcome within and we outside! +Could it be that Roger was feeling this now? +</p> + +<p> +All this rushed through my heart as I knelt to the +music of the family psalm. +</p> + +<p> +Then, dressing hastily, I went down. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger has been here, Olive," said my Father, +answering my looks. "He brought the chirurgeon +to the Hall, and came home an hour since, and then +went back again to watch." +</p> + +<p> +"Then Sir Launcelot is not out of danger," I +said. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he replied; "but there is hope." +</p> + +<p> +There was no morning walk for us that day. My +Father went to his chamber, my aunts to theirs, and +I to the chamber where the dried herbs lay, partly +because it was Roger's and my Sunday parliament-house, +and partly because from it I could see the +towers of Davenant Hall. +</p> + +<p> +In our Puritan household we were brought up with +great faith in the virtues of solitude. A very solemn +part of our ritual was, "Thou, when thou prayest, +enter into thy closet, and shut thy door, and pray +to thy Father which is in secret." "The one minute +and unmistakable rubric," my Father called it, "in +the New Testament." For he used to say, "not +only is the solitary place the place for the Redeemer's +agonies and the apostle's bitter weeping; it is the +place of the largest assemblies. For therein passing +the barriers of the congregation, we enter into the +assembly and Church of the first-born, and into the +temple not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. +Any religion," said he, "whose secret springs do +not exceed its surface waters, will evaporate in the +burden and heat of the day." +</p> + +<p> +We went to church as usual, and slowly and +silently we were coming away, avoiding as much as +possible the usual greetings with neighbours, and +I feeling especially anxious to escape Placidia's +sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +But that was impossible. However, as she joined +us she looked really anxious; too anxious even to +find an appropriate text. She took my hand kindly, +and said— +</p> + +<p> +"We must hope for the best, Olive." +</p> + +<p> +And there was something in the "we," and the +briefness of her words, which brought tears into my +eyes, and made me think I might still have been +keeping a hard place in my heart which would have +to be melted. +</p> + +<p> +But we had only just left the church-yard, and +gone a few steps beyond the gate on the field-path +to Netherby (I walking behind the rest), when a +soft hand was laid on my shoulder, and my face was +drawn down to Lettice Davenant's kisses, as in a +low voice she said— +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Olive, I am sure Sir Launcelot will get well. +My Mother has been saying prayers all night. And +Roger is so good. Indeed, it was not nearly half +Roger's fault. Sir Launcelot did say terribly +provoking things about the Precisians, and hypocrisy, +and your Father." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>What</i> did he say, Lettice?" I asked, passionately. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother says we ought to forget bitter +words," she said; "and I think we ought—at all +events, until he gets better." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lettice," I implored, "tell me, only me! +That I may know, if he should not get better. Roger +told my Father it was all his fault; but I know—I +always knew—it was not. I shall know this if you +will not tell me another word, and perhaps think +even worse things than were said." +</p> + +<p> +"It was not so much the words—they were ordinary +enough—it was the tone," said she. "And, +besides, it is so difficult to repeat any conversation +truly; and it was all in such a moment, I can scarcely +tell. It began about Lord Strafford, and about +Mr. Hampden and Mr. Pym being canting hypocrites, +and Mr. Cromwell being a beggarly brewer; and +then Sir Launcelot muttered something in a whining +tone about wondering that Roger's Father permitted +him to indulge in such ungodly amusements as +bonfires; and Roger said it was not fair to attack +when he knew there could be no retort (meaning +because I was there); and Sir Launcelot said he +believed the Precisians never thought it fair to be +attacked except behind some good city walls. And +then followed a fire of words about cowardice, and +hypocrisy, and treason; and then something about +your father having taken care to leave the German +wars in good time for his own safety. Then I saw +Roger's hand up, thrusting Sir Launcelot away, +rather than striking him, I thought. But the next +instant Sir Launcelot lay on the ground, with his +head against a jagged log, the other end of which +was in the bonfire, and Roger was pulling him back, +and Sir Launcelot swearing something about a +"Puritan dog" and being "murdered." And then +I saw the blood flowing from a wound in his head. +I gave Roger my veil to staunch it with. But it +would not stop. Sir Launcelot fainted; and Roger +told me to run to my Mother. In five minutes all +the people were on the spot, and Roger was on +horseback riding of for the physician. There! I have +told you all I know," she said, "whether I ought or +not. But don't tell Roger. For I tried to comfort +him by saying how he had been provoked. But it +did not comfort him in the least. He looked quite +fierce at rue—at me!" said little Lettice, the tears +overflowing, "when he was always so kind! And +he said there was no excuse for murder. He was +wild with trouble," she continued, sobbing, "not a +bit like himself, Olive; and since that I cannot tell +what to say to him. Your ways and ours are not +exactly the same, you know. So I have been with +my Mother in her oratory. It is so hard to +understand anybody. But I hope God understands us all. +I do hope He does. My Mother could not find one +of the church prayers that quite fitted. But she +joined two or three together, in the Collects, and +the Visitation of the Sick, and the Litany, which +seemed to say all she wanted wonderfully. I never +knew how much they meant before. And it does +seem as if God must hear; and Roger always so +good. He may say what he likes, always so good, +to me and to every one!" +</p> + +<p> +Lettice's tears opened the sluices of mine, and +were a great comfort; and it was a comfort, too, to +think of those dear kind voices joining in Lady +Lucy's oratory. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached home, the great table was +spread in the hall, and the serving-men and maidens +were standing round it. +</p> + +<p> +My Father moved to the head and asked the blessing +on the meal, then he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Friends, the hand of God is heavy on me to-day, +and you will not look that I should eat bread +while a life is in peril through deed of one who is +to me as my own soul. I might brave it out, and +put on a cheerful countenance. But I would have +you know I am humbled. The blows of an enemy +we may face as men. Beneath the rod of the Lord +we must bow like smitten children. And I would +have you know I do. Yet I cannot refrain from +telling you also that it was for bitter words against +good men that the blow was struck. So much I +must say for the boy, though God forbid I should +hide the sin." +</p> + +<p> +He left the hall, and every eye was moist as it +followed him. +</p> + +<p> +The general judgment was anything but harsh +against Roger, as was easy to see from the few low +broken words which interrupted the silence of that +sorrowful meal, and from the response of Tib, to +whom I secretly ventured to tell how sorely Roger +had been provoked. +</p> + +<p> +"No need to tell me, Mistress Olive!" said she. +"That Sir Launcelot is enough to rouse a saint, his +groom told my Margery's Dickon. And they may +say what they like, but I wouldn't give a farthing +for any saint that can't be roused." +</p> + +<p> +It was not the public verdict Roger had to fear. +Aunt Dorothy took my Father's place at the head +of the table, her face white and rigid, carving the +meat, but eating not a morsel, nor uttering a word. +Aunt Gretel moved about on one pretence and +another, holding half-whispered discourse with the +elder servants of the house, from the broken +snatches of which I gathered that she fell into +great historical difficulties in her double anxiety to +say nothing harsh of the wounded gentleman, and +at the same time to prove that Roger had meant no +harm. And I, meantime, could scarce have sat +through that terrible meal at all, but for Roger's +stag-hound Lion, who nestled in close to me, pressing +his great head under my hand, and calling my +attention by a soft moan, and from time to time +secretly relieving me of the food I could not touch, +bolting it in a surreptitious manner, regardless of +consequences, which said as plainly as possible, +"Thou and I understand each other. Our hearts +are in the same place. I eat, not because I care a +straw about it, but to please thee and help <i>him</i>." Only +once, when my tears fell fast on his nose, as I +stooped over him to hide them, his feelings betrayed +him, and his great paws appeared for a moment on +the clean Sabbath cloth, as with an inquiring whine +he started up and tried to lick my face, which I +supposed was his way of figuratively wiping away +my tears. But at the gentlest touch on his paws +he subsided, casting one anxious glance at Aunt +Dorothy, who, however, neither saw him nor the +brown foot-prints on the tablecloth. Always +afterwards he maintained his gentlemanlike reserve, +limiting all further expression of his feelings to +spasmodic movements of his tail, and to his great +soft wistful eyes, which he never took off from me, +For dogs always know when anything is the matter. +Their misfortune is they can never make out +what it is. Roger's ancient foe, the old gray cat, +meantime made secretly off with a piece of meat +which Lion had dropped. And I caught sight of +her slowly luxuriating over it in a corner, entirely +regardless of the family circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Every most trivial incident in that day glows as +vividly and distinctly in my memory, in the fire of +the passion that burned through it all, as every +detail of the carving of Davenant Hall in the flames +of the twelve bonfires. +</p> + +<p> +The meal passed in a silence so deep that every +whisper of Aunt Gretel's and every moan of Lion's +were clearly heard. But afterwards the men slunk +hastily away to the farm-yard and stables, and Tib +with bones and fragments to her hens and pigs, and +the maidens began to clear away the wooden +trenchers and our pewter dishes, the clatter and +rattle sounding singularly noisy without the +cheerful talk which generally accompanied it. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy, Aunt Gretel, and I, went, at his +summons, into my Father's justice-room. "Where +two or three are gathered together," said he; and +without further preamble we all knelt down while +he prayed, in a few words and quiet (to the ear). +For he seemed to feel the great, loving, omnipotent +Presence; not far off, where cries only could reach, +but near, close, overshadowing, indwelling, too +near almost for speech. And we felt the same. +</p> + +<p> +When he ceased, it was some minutes before we +rose. And the silence fell on me like an answer +like an "Amen," like one of those "Verilys" which +shine through so many of the Gospel words, and +illumine them so that they may read in the dark; +in the dark when we most need them. +</p> + +<p> +Before we left, I told him of Lady Lucy and +Lettice praying the Collects for Roger in her +oratory. +</p> + +<p> +My Father turned away with trembling lips to +the window. Aunt Gretel sobbed, Aunt Dorothy +said, with a faint voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"God forgive me if I said anything of Lady Lucy +I should not have said." +</p> + +<p> +We had not left the room when Lettice's white +palfry flashed past the door, and in another moment +she had met us in the porch. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot will live!" she said. "The physician +says there is every hope; and he sleeps. If +he wakes better, all will be right; and Roger waits +to see, because he still fears. But I am sure all +will be well. And I could not bear you should +wait; so my mother let me come." +</p> + +<p> +In his thankfulness my Father forgot the stately +courtesy with which he usually treated Lettice, and +stooping down, took her in his arms, as if she had +been me, and kissed and blessed her, and called her +"God's sweet messenger and dove of hope!" and +prayed she might be so all her life. And Aunt +Gretel disappeared to tell every one. But Aunt +Dorothy stood still where she was, and covered her +face with her hands and wept unrestrainedly in a +way most uncommon with her. +</p> + +<p> +Lettice, with her own sweet instinct when to +come and when to go, was on the steps by the door +in a moment (anticipating her groom's ready hand), +on her white pony, waving her hand to us as we +watched her in the porch, and away out of sight, +escaping our thanks, and leaving us to our hope. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the dispersed household, who had all been +invisibly bound to the centre they nevertheless would +not approach, gathered in the hall from stall, and +shed, and field. +</p> + +<p> +And then my Father said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Friends, God has given us hope. Therefore let +us pray." And for a few minutes we all knelt +together while he prayed, in brief trustful words, +ending with the Lord's Prayer, in which all the voices +joined, at least all that could, for there were many +tears. +</p> + +<p> +Then my Father read Luther's Psalm, "God is +our refuge and strength, a very present help in time +of trouble." +</p> + +<p> +And we felt it was true. And so the service +ended. And once more the household scattered. +For Roger had yet to return, and we all felt a +family-gathering would be a welcome he could ill bear. +So Aunt Dorothy went to her chamber, and Aunt +Gretel to her German hymn-book by the fireside, +and I to my place at her feet, and then to watch +from the porch. For my Father went out to meet +Roger. +</p> + +<p> +And of that meeting neither of them ever +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +They came back together, my Father's hand on +Roger's shoulder, half as on a child's for tenderness, +half as an old man's on a son's for support. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot is out of danger!" said my Father, +when he came into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Roger kissed me and Aunt Gretel as he passed, +and took my hand and tried to say something; but +said nothing, only let me sob a minute on his +shoulder, and then went up to his chamber. +</p> + +<p> +We were used rather to repress than to give +utterance to feeling in our Puritan households. And +Lion was the only person who made much show of +what he felt, twisting and whining and fondling +round Roger in a way very unsuited to his giant +bulk. We heard him pacing after Roger to the foot +of the great staircase. Upstairs no dog under Aunt +Dorothy's rule would venture, under the strongest +excitement; so after lying expectant at its foot for +some time, Lion returned to express his satisfaction +in a more composed manner to me. +</p> + +<p> +At family-prayer that night, my Father made one +brief allusion of fervent thankfulness to the mercy +of the day. More neither he nor Roger could have +borne. +</p> + +<p> +And so that Sabbath of unrest ended. To us, but +not to Roger; although I only learned this long +afterwards. For no lamp marked the watch of agony +he kept that night. And on his haggard countenance, +when he came down the next morning, no +one dared question nor comment. +</p> + +<p> +For while others rejoiced in the deliverance, he +writhed in agony under the burden and in the coils +of his sin. The accident of the log being at hand, +that might have made it murder, and the other +accident, that the wound had not been an inch nearer +the temple or a barley-corn deeper, made absolutely +no difference in the burden that weighed on him. +If Sir Launcelot had died, the punishment would +have been heavier; but not the remorse. And +although his living was the deepest cause of thankfulness, +yet it was no lightening of the sin. For it +was the fountain of the sin within that was Roger's +misery; the fountain deep in the heart. +</p> + +<p> +Now he began to feel the meaning of the words, +"Out of the heart." Now the old difficulties he +and I had discussed in the apple-tree and in the +herb-chamber rushed back on him. Now he began +to feel that it was no mere entertaining question +in metaphysical dynamics whether he was a free +agent or not, but a question of moral and eternal +life or death. +</p> + +<p> +Could he have resisted the temptation to strike +Sir Launcelot? Or could he not? His hand had +stirred to deal that blow, at the bidding of the +bitter anger in his heart, as instinctively and almost +as unconsciously as the indignant blood had rushed +to the cheek. What had stirred the sudden +movement of anger in his heart? Far bitterer words +from the lips of a stranger had not moved him +as those mocking tones of Sir Launcelot's. The +strength of that fatal impulse was but the accumulated +force of the irritation of countless petty +provocations, not retaliated outwardly, but suffered to +ferment in the heart. Nor was that last sin +altogether rooted in sin. Roger's search into his own +heart was made with too intense a desire of being +true to himself and to God for him to fall into that +blind passion of self-accusing. It had been more +than half-rooted in justice, just anger against +injustice, generous indignation against ungenerous +slander, truth revolting against falsehood. And so +gradual (and in part so just) had been the growth +of deep-rooted detestation of Sir Launcelot's +character, that the last act—which might have been +crime in the eyes of man, which was crime in the +eyes of God, whose judgment is not measured by +consequences—had become almost as irresistible +and instinctive as the movement of the eyelid to +sweep a grain of dust from the eye. +</p> + +<p> +When, then, could he have begun to resist? +When would it have been possible to stem the little +stream which had swollen into a torrent that had +all but swept his life into ruin? Where was the +point where sin and virtue, hatred which leads to +murder, and justice which is the foundation of all +virtue, began to intertwine until they were ravelled +inextricably beyond his power to sever or +distinguish? Had there ever been such a point? Must +not all, he being as he was by nature, and things +being as they were, and Sir Launcelot being as he +was, have necessarily gone on as it had, and led to +the result it led to? +</p> + +<p> +But here came in the low inextinguishable voice +of conscience. +</p> + +<p> +"This anguish is no fruit of inevitable necessity. +It was sin—it was sin. I have sinned." And +then— +</p> + +<p> +"I have sinned, because there is sin <i>in me</i>. Sin +in me; no mere detached faults, no isolated wrong +acts, but a fountain of evil within me, from which +every evil thing proceeds. Out of the heart—out +of the heart; not from without, not something +merely in me. It is <i>I myself</i> that am sinful, that +have sinned. This one evil thing, which, unlike all +other seemingly evil things, storms or frosts, or +corruption and death itself, never produces good +fruit, but only evil fruit, is springing is an +inexhaustible flow from the depths of my innocent +being." +</p> + +<p> +"Free? I am <i>not</i> free! I am in bondage. I +am a slave. I am tied and bound. Yet this bondage +is no excuse; it is the very essence of my sin. +I cannot explain it; but I feel it. I feel it in this +anguish which I cannot escape any more than we +can escape from anguish in the bones by writhing. +For this is not the anguish of blows or of wounds, +but of disease within, growing from my inmost +heart, preying on my inmost life. O God, I have +sinned, I am a sinful man. In me is no help. Is +there none in the universe, none in Thee?" +</p> + +<p> +Then from the depth of the anguish came the +relief. The thought flashed through him— +</p> + +<p> +"Unless one worse than the worst conception man +ever formed of the devil is the Maker of man and +the Omnipotent Ruler of the world, it is impossible +that we should be so powerless in ourselves to overcome +sin, and so agonized in remorse for it, and yet +that there should be no deliverance." +</p> + +<p> +That thought made a lull in his anguish for a +time, a silence; that thought, and the mere exhaustion +of the conflict. For his thoughts had whirled +him round until thought, with the mere rapidity +of motion, became imperceptible. In the centre of +the whirlwind there was stillness, and therein he lay +prostrate, dumb, and exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +But not alone. +</p> + +<p> +On his mind, wearied out with vain thinking, on +his heart, numb with suffering, fell in the pause of +the storm old sweet, familiar words, still small +voices, soft echoes of sacred hymns learned in +childhood; those old familiar, simple words, wherewith +the Spirit, moving like a dove on the face of the +waters, knows how to win entrance into souls +tempest-tossed, when new words, though wise and deep +as an archangel's, would only sweep past its closed +doors undistinguished from the wail of the winds, +or the raging of the seas on which it tosses. +</p> + +<p> +Old familiar words,— +</p> + +<p> +"Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee." +</p> + +<p> +Words of healing to so many! +</p> + +<p> +Forgiveness; not as a far-off result of a life of +expiation, but free, complete, present. Peace; not +after years of doubtful conflict, but now, to strengthen +for the conflict. Yet these were not the words +he most wanted then. It was not so much that +guilt pressed on him as a burden, as that sin bound +him like a chain. Not peace he most wanted, but +power; freedom to fight, power to overcome. It +seemed to him as if what he longed for was not so +much "Go in peace," as "Come! and I will chasten +thee, smite thee low, humble thee in the dust; but +make thee whole." +</p> + +<p> +Not soft words of comfort, but strong words of +hope and promise, were what he needed, and they +did not seem to come. +</p> + +<p> +He crept out of the house before dawn to obtain +tidings at the Hall of Sir Launcelot, and to quiet +the restlessness of his heart by outward movement. +</p> + +<p> +On his way he passed the forge where Job Forster, +the blacksmith, lived alone with his wife at the edge +of the village opposite to ours, on the way to the +Hall. +</p> + +<p> +There was a light in Job's window; a strange +sight in his orderly and childless home. The red +glare it cast across the road was struggling with +the growing dawn. As Roger approached, it was +put out; and just when he reached the door it was +opened, and Job's tall figure issued forth. +</p> + +<p> +Job strode forward and grasped Roger's hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Thee had best not be roaming about the country +by theeself in the dark like a ghost," said he. +"It's wisht!" +</p> + +<p> +"Is anything the matter?" asked Roger, diverting +the conversation from himself. +</p> + +<p> +"There's nought the matter with us," said Job. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a light in your window, so I thought +Rachel might be ill," said Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"There's nought ailing with us," repeated Job; +and after some hesitation he added, "We were but +thinking of thee." +</p> + +<p> +"You used not to need a lamp to think by," said +Roger, touched more than he liked to show. +</p> + +<p> +"No, nor to pray by," said Job. "But we +wanted a promise, she and I." (Job seldom called +his wife anything but she.) "We wanted a promise, +Master, for thee. For she thought the devil would +be sure to be busy with thee just now, and so +did I." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you find one?" asked Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"They are as plenty as the stars," said Job, "but +we couldn't light on the one that would fit. And +it's bad work hammering them promises to fit if +they don't go right at first." +</p> + +<p> +"As many as the stars, and not one that fits me!" +said Roger, unintentionally betraying the struggles +of the night. "Peace, and pardon, and everything +every one wants, but not what I want. You found +none, Job! Then, of course, there was nothing +more to be done. You and Rachel wouldn't give +in easily." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Master Roger," said Job, "we didn't. +But we came to a stand, and for a while gave up +looking altogether. And I sat down on one edge +of the bed and she on the other, and we said nothing. +But she wept nigh as bitter as Esau, for she +ever had a tender heart for thee, having none of her +own, and thee no mother. When all at once she +flashed up through her tears, and said, 'Why, Job, +we've gone a-hunting for a promise, and we've got +them all to our hand. All in Him! Yea and amen, +in Him! We've forgotten the blessed Lord!' Then +it struck me all of a heap what fools we were; and +I could have laughed for gladness, but that she +might have thought I'd gone mazed. So I only +said, 'Why, child, here we've been chattering like +cranes, as if we'd been all in the twilight, like poor +old Hezekiah. We've been hunting for the promises, +and we've got the Gift! We've been groping for +words, and we've got the Word.' So we knelt +down again, and begged hard of the Lord to mind +how He was tempted and forsaken, and to mind +thee, Master Roger, and help thee any way He +could. And we rose up wonderful lightened, she +and I. And then the promises came falling about +us as thick as hail; and uppermost of them all, 'If +the Son shall make you free, you shall be free +indeed;' 'Reconciled to God by His death; saved by +His life;' and, 'I am come that they might have +<i>life</i>.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Job," said Roger, "I think that will do; I think +that will fit me." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe, Master Roger," said Job. "They're +mighty words. But, please God, thee and she and +I never forget what we learnt to-night. Words are +not so strong always the thousandth time as the +first. But His voice goes deeper every time we +hearken to it. And every sore needs a fresh salve. +But His touch is a salve for all sores. Never you +be such a fool as we were, Master Roger. Never +you go creeping back into the dark hunting for a +promise and forget that they are all, yea and amen, +in the Lord. No more if's or maybe's, or +peradventure's, but yea and amen in Him for us all for +ever." +</p> + +<p> +Roger grasped Job's hand in silence, and went on +to hear tidings of Sir Launcelot. +</p> + +<p> +The night had been quiet; the fever had subsided, +and the danger was over. And Roger came back +to his chamber at Netherby to give thanks to God. +For danger averted from others, for a curse averted +from himself, but above all, for the glorious promise +of freedom now and for ever—freedom to overcome +sin, freedom to serve God. Freedom in the liberating +Saviour, life in the Life, sonship in the Son, +now and for ever. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The various streams of the various lives which +had been flooded into one by the common anxiety +about Roger and Sir Launcelot soon shrank back +into their various separate channels. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! if we could all keep at the point, "<i>I will +arise</i>," or better still, at the place where the Father +meets us, how good, and lowly, and tender-hearted +we should be! No, "<i>thou never gavest me a kid;</i>" no, +"<i>this thy son, which hath devoured thy +substance!</i>" Strange that the memory of such moments (and +what Christian life can be without such?) should +not keep the heart ever broken and open. The best +way towards this, no doubt, is to have such an +arising and such an embracing every day we live. +I am sure we need it. However, we did not exactly +do this at that time at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy, on thinking matters over with her +"sober judgment," thought it a duty to warn us +against the "spirit of bondage," which, with all +her sweetness, had restrained poor Lady Lucy's +prayers to the limits of the Prayer-Look. Cousin +Placidia, the immediate anxiety having subsided, +could not but feel that Roger's vehemence had +added another step to the distance which already +separated them. Once on that Pharisaic height, to +which, alas! we so easily rise without any trouble +of climbing, being puffed up thither by windy +substances within and without, other people's falls +necessarily increase our comparative elevation above +them; and whether this is caused by their descent +or by our ascent is difficult to determine; just as in +the case of one boat passing another, it is difficult +by the mere sense of sight to ascertain which is +moving. Not that Placidia asserted this conscious +superiority by reproaches. Did she need to descend +to speech? Was not her life a reproach? That +placid life, unbroken by any movement deeper than +the soft ripples of an approving conscience; or a +calm disapproval of any one attempting an +encroachment on her rights,—which of course she +never permitted. Had she not heard of Archbishop +Laud's cruelties to the three gentlemen in the +pillory with no further emotion than a gentle regret +that the three gentlemen could not have held their +tongues? Had she not, on the other hand, heard +the tidings of Lord Stratford's arrest, and the +destruction of the Star-Chamber Court, with no more +vehement feeling than a remark on the vanity of +human greatness, and a gentle hope that it might +lead to the abolition of the very inconvenient +monopolies on pepper and soap? +</p> + +<p> +Had she not always warned Roger and me against +severity on Sir Launcelot? Had she not even gone +the length of pronouncing him a very fine gentleman? +And what could be more striking than the +subsequent justification of her warnings by the +revengeful act to which Roger had been betrayed? +</p> + +<p> +Under all these circumstances, Placidia's forbearance +must have seemed to herself remarkable. She +uttered no rebuke, she pointed no moral, by +reminding us of her prophetical sayings. She merely +towered above us on her serene heights, a little +higher, a little more serene—a very little—than +before. And she called me "Olive, my dear," and +Roger "poor Roger." But that was partly, no +doubt, on account of her being married. +</p> + +<p> +Roger bore her superiority most meekly. Indeed, +I believe he felt it as much as she did. For Roger +<i>did</i> remain at that point of penitence and pardon +where the heart keeps sweet, and lowly, and tender. +Which, most certainly, I very often did not. For +Placidia's condescension, especially to Roger, chafed +me often past endurance. +</p> + +<p> +Only once I remember his being roused. +</p> + +<p> +She had been saying (I forget in what connection) +that she hoped Roger would not be too much +cast down. "It was never too late to turn over a +new leaf; and then there was the consoling example +of the Apostle Peter. There was reason to believe +that the Apostle Peter was a wiser and better man +all his life from his terrible fall. And we know that +'all things work for good,'" said she, "'to them that +are called.'" +</p> + +<p> +Then Roger, sitting at the other end of the hall +cleaning his gun, as we believed out of hearing, +suddenly rose, and coming to where we were sitting, +stood before Placidia with compressed lips and +arms folded tightly on his breast,— +</p> + +<p> +"Cousin Placidia," he said, "never, never say +that again. St. Peter was not wiser and better, or +even humbler for denying Christ. No doubt he +was wiser, and better, and tenderer for that look, for +ever and ever; and better for the bitter weeping; +but not for the denial, not for the sin." +</p> + +<p> +Said my Father, who came in behind Roger as he +spoke, laying his hand on Roger's shoulder,— +</p> + +<p> +"True, Roger, true; but though sin can never +work for good, the memory of sin may; and at any +point in the lowest depths where we turn our back +on the husks and our face to the Father's house, +God will meet us, and from that moment make the +consequences, bitter as they may be, begin to work +for good to us." +</p> + +<p> +"To us! Father, to us," said Roger, "but to +others—how to others? To those our misdoing may +have misled or confirmed in evil? We may stop a +rock hurled down a precipice. But who can stop +all it has set in motion, or undo the ruin it has +wrought in its way?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing works for good," said my Father +mournfully, "to those whose faces are turned from God. +But He can help us, and will, if we set our whole +hearts to it, to counter-work the evil we have +wrought. Counter-work, I say, not undo; for to +undo a deed done is impossible even to Omnipotence. +And that makes sin the one terrible and +unalterably evil and sorrowful thing in the world, and +the only one." +</p> + +<p> +The words fell heavily on my heart. Was this +the gospel? I thought. Evil never, never to be +undone, sin never to be the same as if it had not +been? Placidia said no more until Roger and my +Father went out on the farm together, and we were +left alone with Aunt Gretel, and then she observed +in her deliberate way, with a slow shake of her +head,— +</p> + +<p> +"I hope Cousin Roger is not still in the dark. I +trust he understands the gospel—" +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean by the gospel, Placidia?" +said I, half roused on Roger's account and half +troubled on my own. +</p> + +<p> +Placidia, always ready (at that time) with a +theological definition, neatly folded and packed, +entered into a disquisition of some length as to what she +understood by "the gospel." In a deliberate and +business-like manner she undertook to explain the +purposes of the Almighty from the beginning, as if +she had, in some inexplicable way, been in the +confidence of Heaven before the beginning, and +comprehended not only all the purposes of the Eternal, +but the reasons on which these purposes were +founded. The effect produced on my mind was as if the +whole life-giving stream of redeeming love flowing +from the glorious unity of the living God, the +Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, had been frozen +into a rigid contract between certain high sovereign +powers for the purchase of a certain inheritance for +their own use, in which the utmost care was taken +on all sides that the quantity paid and the quantity +received should be precisely equivalent. It was as +if the whole living, breathing world, with its +infinite blue heavens, its abounding rivers, its waving +corn-fields, its heaving seas, and all that is therein, +had been shrivelled into a map of estates, in which +nothing was of importance but the dividing lines. +These "dividing lines" of her system might, for +aught I knew, be correct enough, might be those of +the Bible itself; but the awful Omnipresence, the +real holy indignation against wrong, the love, the +life, the yearning, pitying, repenting, immutably +just, yet tenderly forgiving heart which beats in +every page of the Bible, had vanished altogether. +All the while she spoke, as it were in spite of +myself, the words kept running through my head, +"They that make them are like unto them." +</p> + +<p> +At the close she said, turning to Aunt Gretel,— +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have stated the gospel clearly. I only +hope Cousin Roger understands it." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure I do not know, my dear," said Aunt +Gretel (for Aunt Gretel, being always afraid of in +some way compromising Dr. Luther by any confusion +in her theological statements, seldom ventured +out of the text of Scripture). "I am sure, my dear, +I do not know. I am no theologian. And it is a +blessing that the Holy Scriptures provide what +Dr. Luther calls a gospel in miniature for those who are +no theologians: 'God so loved the world that He +gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever +believeth in Him should not perish, but have +ever-lasting life.' That is my gospel, my dear. It is +shorter, you see, than yours, and I think rather +better news; especially for the wandering sheep and +prodigal sons, and all the people outside, and for those +who, like me, trust they have come back, but still +feel, as I do, very apt to go wrong again." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Nicholls always says I have rather a +remarkably clear head for theology," said Placidia. +"But gifts differ, and we have none of us anything +to be proud of." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt, my dear," said Aunt Gretel. "At +least I am sure I have not. But I cannot say I +think the punishment, or at least the sad consequences +of sin are all exactly taken away for us, at +least in this life. For instance, there is Gammer +Grindle's grandchild, poor Cicely, as pretty a girl +as ever danced around the May-pole, that people say +Sir Launcelot Trevor tempted away to London, and +left to no one knows what misery there. (If it was +not Sir Launcelot, may I be forgiven for joining in +an unjust accusation; but he was seen speaking to +her the evening before she left.) Now if Sir Launcelot +were to repent, as I pray he may, that would not +bring back the lost innocence to little Cicely; nor +do I see how the thought of her could ever bring +anything but a bitter agony of remorse to him." +</p> + +<p> +("Ah," interposed Aunt Dorothy, who had joined +us, "<i>I did</i> speak my mind, I am thankful to say, +about those May-poles.") +</p> + +<p> +"What is forgiveness, then?" resumed Placidia. +"And what is the good of being religious, if we are +to be punished just the same as if we were not forgiven?" +</p> + +<p> +"The blessing of forgiveness," said Aunt Dorothy, +"is <i>being forgiven</i>; and the good of being godly +is, I should think, being godly." +</p> + +<p> +"Forgiveness, my dear," added Aunt Gretel, +"What is forgiveness? It is welcome back to the +Father's heart. It is the curse borne for us and +taken from us out of everything, out of death itself. +It is God with us against all our sins, God for us +against all our real foes. It is the broken link +reknit between us and God. It is the link broken +between us and sin. What would you have better? +What could you have more? Once on the Father's +heart, can we not well leave it to Him to decide +what pain we can be spared, and what we can not +be spared, without so much the more sin, which is +so infinitely worse than any pain." +</p> + +<p> +"My theology," Aunt Dorothy continued, "is the +doctrine Nathan taught when he said to David, +'The Lord hath put away thy sin, but the child +shall die,'—and to the Apostle Paul when he wrote, +'God is not mocked; whatsoever a man soweth that +shall he also reap:' the theology our fathers taught +us; no gospel of <i>tolerating</i> sin, but of <i>forgiving</i> and +<i>destroying</i> it. 'Christ has redeemed us from the +curse of the law, being made a curse for us.' He +has brought us under the rod of the covenant, +having Himself 'learned obedience through the things +which He suffered.' There is as much mercy and as +much justice in one as in the other. I hope, my +dear," she concluded, "you and Mr. Nicholls do +indeed understand the gospel. But, I confess, people +who get into the Covenant so very easily do puzzle +me. They say the anguish all but cost Dr. Luther +his life, and Mr. Cromwell his reason." +</p> + +<p> +Placidia, from her double height of spiritual +serenity and semi-clerical dignity, looked mildly down +on Aunt Dorothy's suggestions. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy," said she, "I have often thought, +you scarcely comprehend Mr. Nicholls and me. +But it is written, 'Woe unto you when all men +speak well of you.' And as to Cousin Roger's +Gospel, I should call it simply the Law." +</p> + +<p> +Soon after Placidia rose to leave. But as she was +putting on her mufflers, she remarked, as if the +thought had just occurred to her,— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy, those three beautiful cows Uncle +Drayton gave me, I am a little anxious about them: +the glebe farm is on high ground, and the grass is +not so rich as they have been used to, and I was +saying to Mr. Nicholls yesterday morning that I +was sure Uncle Drayton would be quite distressed +if he saw how much less yellow and rich the butter +was than it used to be. And Mr. Nicholls said he +quite felt with me. And Uncle Drayton is always +so kind. So I said I thought I had better be quite +frank with Uncle Drayton. You know I always am +frank, and speak out what I think. It is no merit +in me. It is my nature, and I cannot help it. And +Mr. Nicholls said he thought I had. And yesterday +evening it happened that we were passing the +meadow by the Mere, and there were no cattle on +it. And I said to Mr. Nicholls at once, what a pity +that beautiful grass should run to seed, and our +butter be such a poor colour. And Mr. Nicholls +saw it at once. And he advised me—or I suggested +and he approved of it, I cannot be certain which +(and I am always so anxious to report everything +exactly as it happened)—at once to go to Uncle +Drayton and ask him if he would allow our three +cows just to stand for a little while in that meadow, +while there are no other cattle to put in it, just to +prevent the pasture running to waste, which I know +would be quite a trouble to Uncle Drayton if he +thought of it, only no one can be in every place at +once, and no doubt he had forgotten it." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Very few</i> people's eyes can be in every place at +once, certainly, Placidia," said Aunt Dorothy, with +point. "But it so happens that your uncle had not +forgotten that meadow. And this morning Bob +drove all our cows there." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said Placidia, "that is quite enough. I +only felt naturally anxious that nothing should be +wasted, especially when we happened to be wanting +it. But, of course, a poor parson's wife cannot +expect such butter as you have at Netherby; only +I always remember the 'twelve baskets,' and how +important it is 'nothing should be lost,' and the +virtuous woman at the end of the Proverbs. I shall +always have reason to be grateful to you, Aunt +Dorothy, for making me learn so much Scripture." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, my dear," said Aunt Dorothy, "you +always had an excellent memory. But it is very +important with the Holy Scriptures, at least the +English version, not to read them from right to +left." +</p> + +<p> +So Cousin Placidia departed, leaving Aunt Dorothy +with a comfortable sense of having defeated a +plot. +</p> + +<p> +But half an hour afterwards my Father came in. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Placidia," said he, "I met her on her way +home, and I really was quite touched by her gratitude +for those few cows I gave her, and also by the +feeling she expressed about Roger. It seems the +glebe pasture does not agree with the beasts as well +as ours, and she had been rather troubled about the +butter, but had not liked to speak of it, especially +when we were in such anxiety about Roger. It +really shows more delicacy of feeling than I thought +Placidia possessed, poor child. And it shows how +careful we ought to be not to form uncharitable +judgments. So I ordered Bob to put those three +cows with ours in the Mere meadow for a little +while." +</p> + +<p> +"Did Placidia mention the Mere meadow?" said +Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I cannot be sure, but I think she did; +and I think it was a very sensible notion." +</p> + +<p> +"What did Bob say?" said Aunt Dorothy, grimly. +</p> + +<p> +"Bob spoke rather sharply," said my Father; "he +is apt to be very free-spoken at times; he said he +had like to look well to our pastures if we were to +give change of air to all Mistress Nicholl's cattle. +It was not likely, Bob thought, they would be in +any hurry to change back again." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, there <i>are</i> men," murmured Aunt Dorothy, +"who are as harmless as doves, and there are women +who are as wise as serpents. And the less the two +meet the better. I don't care a rush who feeds +Placidia's cows; but it is almost more than I can +bear that she thinks no one sees through her +schemes." +</p> + +<p> +But Placidia had triumphed. And the parsonage +cows never needed any further change of residence. +</p> + +<p> +It irks me somewhat to intertwine these rough +dark threads with the story of those so dear to me, +but the whole would drop into unmeaningness +without them. Placidia and Mr. Nicholls made +many a calumny of the enemy's comprehensible to +me. For in later days it became the fashion to +assert that characters of that stamp formed the staple +of our Commonwealth men and women. Characters +of this stamp win Naseby and Worcester! save +the persecuted Vaudois! make England the reverence +of the world! conceive the "Pilgrim's Progress," +the "Areopagitica," and the "Living Temple!" +sacrifice two thousand livings for conscience +sake! +</p> + +<p> +No! Pharisees, doubtless, there were among us, +as, alas, doubtless there is the root of Pharisaism +within us. But they were of the make of Saul +the disciple of Gamaliel, not of those who tithed +the "mint, anise, and cummin." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At first it seemed to me that Placidia's "Gospel" +was more likely to be fulfilled in Roger's case than +his own forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +Good seemed to come out of that hasty act of +his rather than evil. The feeling he, usually so +self-repressing, had shown about Sir Launcelot, revealed +him in a new light to Lady Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought him rather stony, I must confess," she +said; "but now I see it was only a little of your +Puritan ice, if I may say so without offence; and +that there is an ocean of feeling below. My dear, +now all has ended well, he really must not take it +so much to heart. He has grown too grave. We +cannot have precisely the same standard for young +men, with all their temptations and strong passions, +as for sweet innocent girls sheltered tenderly in +homes, with our softer natures. I should always +wish to be severe to myself. But young men; ah, +my child, the king is a good man, but if you had +seen a little even of our Court, you would think +Roger an angel." +</p> + +<p> +Compared with Sir Launcelot, I most sincerely +believed he was. But this double standard was +unknown in our Puritan home. One law of +righteousness, and purity, and goodness we knew, and +only one, for man and woman. And in this I learned +to think Aunt Dorothy's grimmest sternness more +pitiful than Lady Lucy's pity. I do not wish to set +down what seemed to me Lady Lucy's mistakes +to any sect or any doctrine. In theory all Christian +sects are agreed as to the moral standard. But I +believe in my heart it was the high moral standard +set up, in those days, chiefly (never only) in our +Puritan homes, which will be the salvation of +England, if ever that pest-house, called the Court, +is to be cleansed, and if England ever is to be +saved. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Lucy's religion was one of tender, devotional +emotions, minute ceremonial, and gorgeous +ritual. When braced up by Christian principle, it +was beautiful and attractive. The Puritan religion +was one of principle and doctrine. When inspired +by Divine love, it was gloriously deep and strong. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, with Sir Walter and his boys, Roger +had manifestly risen many degrees by his "spirited +conduct." Sir Launcelot's jests, they admitted, +could bite, and it was just as well he should have a +lesson, though rather a severe one. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Launcelot himself, moreover, took a far different +demeanour towards Roger. "Saints with that +amount of fire in their temper," he observed, +"might be dangerous, but were certainly not despicable." +</p> + +<p> +And as to Lettice, whose moral code was chivalrous +rather than Scriptural, and to whom generosity +was a far more admirable virtue than justice, and +honour a more glorious thing than duty, she said +candidly she was delighted Roger had lost his temper +for once, just to show every one how much heart +and spirit he had. +</p> + +<p> +"You and I knew what he was, Olive," said she; +"but I wanted the rest to feel it too." +</p> + +<p> +And yet there was something lost. Slowly I +grew to see and feel it. +</p> + +<p> +Firstly, in the relative position of Roger and Sir +Launcelot. Deeds of violence inevitably place the +one who does them morally below the one who +suffers. There had been a real honour to Roger in Sir +Launcelot's previous mockery; there was a real +dishonour in the assumption he now made that Roger +stood on his own level. Moreover, Roger's own +generous self-reproach deprived him of the power +of retort. +</p> + +<p> +And secondly (but chiefly), in Lettice's altered +feeling about Sir Launcelot. Roger never spoke of +him; but now that he had recovered, I felt that +I could not forget how, by Lettice's own +account, he had provoked the blow; nor could I see +that the fact of his having received a blow which +he had provoked in any way made his character +different from what it had been. Many debates we +had on the subject, for we met often during those +weeks—those weeks of winter and early spring, +when the whole nation was in suspense about Lord +Strafford's trial, watching during the ploughing +and sowing of the year the solemn reaping of the +harvest he had sown. One of these debates in +particular I remember, because of the way in which it +closed. +</p> + +<p> +It was on Thursday, the 13th of May (1641). We +had met in the wood by the Lady Well. There +seemed a marvellous melody that day in the music +of the little spring, as it bubbled up into its stone +trough, and echoed back from the stone roof of the +little sacred cell the monks had lovingly made for +it seven hundred years ago. The inscription could +still be read on the front:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Ut jucundas cervus undas<br> + Æstuans desiderat,<br> + Sic ad rivum Dei vivum<br> + Mens fidelis properat."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Lettice and I knelt and listened to it. +</p> + +<p> +"It is as if all the bells in fairy-land were +ringing," said she at length, softly; "only hear how +the soft peals rise and fall, and go and come, and +how one sound drops into another, and blends with +it, and flows away and comes back, and meets the +next, until there is no following them." +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said I, "there must have been choirs and +church-bells in fairy-land, for there is surely +something sad and sacred in the sound. It sounds to me +like those bells the legends tell us of, buried +beneath the sea, tolling up to us from far beneath the +dark waters of the past." +</p> + +<p> +Then Lettice fastened back her long hair, and +stooped down and drank of the crystal water, +bathing her face as she drank. +</p> + +<p> +"Those Israelitish soldiers understood how to +enjoy water," said she, rising from her draught. +"That is delicious." +</p> + +<p> +For we were tired and thirsty with gathering +lapfuls of the blue-bells, of which the woods were +full. +</p> + +<p> +As she stood, her moist parted lips, the rich glow +on her cheeks, her eyes dancing with life, her arms +full of flowers, she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"It never seems enough to look at the beautiful +world, Olive. I seem to want another sense for it. +I want to drink of it like this spring; to take it to +my heart, as I do these flowers. And I suppose +that is why I delight to gather them, just as when +I was a little child. Do you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +I did; but I thought of the inscription on the +Lady Well. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose we do want to get nearer, Lettice," I +said; "we want to drink of the Fountain. We +want to rest on the Heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think that is what this strange unsatisfied +longing means," said she, "which all great joys +and all very beautiful things give me?" +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments she was silent. Then she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"What life there is everywhere! Everything +seems filled too full of joy, and brimming over—the +birds into songs, the fields into flowers, and the +trees into leaves, the oldest and gayest of them. +And I feel just like them all, Olive. On such a +morning one must love every one and everything, +altogether regardless of their being lovable, just for +the sake of loving. Olive," she added, with one of +her sudden turns of thought, "to-day you must +forgive Sir Launcelot from the very bottom of your +heart, once for all." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lettice," said I, "I do forgive him, I really +think I did, long since; at least for everything but +his forgiving Roger in that gracious way, as if +Roger had nothing to forgive him. I have forgiven +him, but I cannot think him good." +</p> + +<p> +"Ungenerous!" said she, half in jest and half in +earnest; "you ought to think every one good on +such a morning as this. Besides, Sir Launcelot +always speaks so kindly and generously of you: he +says you are goodness itself." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot think what is not true, just because the +sun shines and the birds sing," said I, "and I +certainly cannot think any one good because they call +me good, or goodness itself. How <i>can</i> I, Lettice? +How can I believe a thing because I wish to believe it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Truth, truth!" said she, a little petulantly +"truth and duty, and right and wrong, I wish +those cold words were not so often on your lips. +There are others so much warmer and more +beautiful—nobleness and generosity, and loyalty and +devotion, those are the things I love. Yours is a +world of daylight, Olive. I like sunshine, glowing +morning and evening like rubies and opals, veiling +the distance at noon with its own glorious haze. I +hate always to see everything exactly as it is, even +beautiful things; and ugly things I never will see, +if I can help it." +</p> + +<p> +"I love to see everything exactly as it is," said I; +"I want, and I pray, to see everything as it is. And +in the end I am sure that is the way to see the real +beauty of everything in the world. For God has +made it, and not the devil. And therefore we need +never be afraid to look into things. And I shall +always think truth and duty the most beautiful +words in the world." +</p> + +<p> +"Very pretty!" said she perversely, "and under +all those beautiful words you bury the fact that you +will never forgive poor Sir Launcelot." +</p> + +<p> +"I have long forgiven him," said I; "but I cannot +think him good, if I tried for ever, until he is. +I cannot help thinking of poor little Cicely, +Gammer Grindle's grandchild, wandering lost in London." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Olive, hush," said she passionately, "that +is ungenerous and unkind. I will not listen to +village gossip. My Mother says we must not be harsh +in judging those whose temptations we cannot +estimate. But she means to do all she can in London +to help poor Cicely." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lettice," said I, "it is not a question of +more or less pity, but of who needs our pity most." +</p> + +<p> +"You are all alike," she rejoined; "yet I love +you all, and I love you, Olive, dearly. Without +your Puritan training, Olive, you and Roger would +have been the best people and the pleasantest in +the world; but as my Mother says, all these severe +doctrines about law, and justice, and conscience, do +make people harsh in judging others, and bitter in +resenting wrong." +</p> + +<p> +I could say no more. She had taken refuge under +the shadow of Roger's hasty act, and the argument +was closed. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached Davenant Hall an unusual +crowd was gathered at the front door—a silent +eager throng—around a horseman whose horse was +covered with foam, from the speed with which he +had come. It was Harry Davenant. And the +tidings he brought were that on yesterday morning +Lord Strafford had been beheaded on Tower Hill, +a hundred thousand people gathered there to see; +but through all the silent multitude neither sighs +of sympathy nor sounds of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +The servants silently dispersed. Harry's horse +was led to the stables, and we went in with Lady +Lucy, Sir Walter, and Sir Launcelot, into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"That is what they were doing in London while +we were gathering blue-bells!" said Lettice. And +she threw her flowers on the stone floor. "I will +never gather any more." +</p> + +<p> +She buried her face in her hands and burst into +tears—"Cruel, cruel," she said, "of the king, of the +queen, to let him die." +</p> + +<p> +"It was the Parliament which hunted him to +death," said Harry, bitterly. "And the king did +try to save him." +</p> + +<p> +"The Parliament is wicked, and hated him, and +I don't care what they did," said Lettice, looking +up with a flushed face; "but the king, oh, Mother, +you said the king would never let Lord Strafford +die. What is the use of being a king if kings can +only <i>try</i> to do things like other people. I thought +kings could <i>do</i> the things they thought right. He +was faithful to the king, was he not, Mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"A devoted servant to the king Lord Strafford +surely was," said Lady Lucy, "whether a good +counsellor or no. I did not think the king would +have given him up. Did no one plead for him?" +she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"He pleaded with a wonderful eloquence for +himself," said Harry Davenant, "that might well-nigh +have turned the heads of his bitterest enemies, +and did win the hearts of every one who heard +him." +</p> + +<p> +"But the king did try to save him?" said Lady +Lucy, clinging to this. +</p> + +<p> +"The king called his privy council together," +said Harry Davenant, "last Sunday, when the bill +of attainder had passed through the Lords and +Commons, and said he had doubts and scruples about +assenting to it, and asked their advice. Dr. Juxon, +Bishop of London, counselled him never to consent +to the shedding of what he believed innocent blood. +But the rest of the council advised him to yield.— And +the king yielded." +</p> + +<p> +"Some people," he continued, "think the king +was justified by a letter the earl wrote him on the +Tuesday before, wherein he offered his life in this +world to the king with all cheerfulness; nay, even +counselled the sacrifice to reconcile him to his +people, saying, 'To a willing man there is no injury +done.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Harry," said Lettice, "the king could give +him up <i>after that</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is said the earl scarcely believed it when he +heard it, and that he laid his hand on his heart and +exclaimed, 'Put not your trust in princes.'" +</p> + +<p> +"And well he might!" exclaimed Lettice, her +tears dried by the fire of her indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, child, hush!" said Lady Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +"The king made another effort to save him," +Harry continued; "he wrote to the Lords +recommending imprisonment instead of death; and at +the end of the letter he added a postscript: 'If he +must die, it were charity to relieve him till +Saturday.'" +</p> + +<p> +"A miserable, cold request!" exclaimed Lettice, +vehemently; "more cruel than the sentence." +</p> + +<p> +"I would have expected this from his father," +murmured Sir Walter, "but not from the king." Then +turning from a painful subject, he added, +"The earl died bravely, no doubt." +</p> + +<p> +"As he passed the windows of the chamber where +Archbishop Laud was, he bowed to receive his +blessing, and he said, 'Farewell, my lord, God +protect your innocence.' He marched to the Tower +Hill more with the bearing of a general leading his +army, than a sentenced man moving to the scaffold. +At the Tower Gate the lieutenant desired him to +take coach, fearing the violence of the people, but +the earl refused: 'I dare look death in the face,' +said he, 'and I hope the people do. Have you a +care I do not escape, and I care not how I die, +whether by the hand of the executioner or by the +madness of the people. If that give them better +content, it is all one to me.' And so, after protesting +his innocence, saying he forgave all the world, +and sending a few affectionate words to his wife +and four children, he laid his head on the block. +There was no base triumphing in the crowd, I +will say that for them; they behaved like Englishmen. +The earl fell in silence. But in the evening +the brutish populace cried out in exultation, 'His +head is off! his head is off!' and the city was +blazing with bonfires. The people feel they have +gained the first step in a victory. The Court thinks it +has made the furthermost step in concession, and +that thenceforward all must be peace. Would to +heaven the king and the Court might be right; but +it is hard to say." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was dusk before all this converse was ended +and I left the Hall. Harry Davenant persisted in +guarding me across the fields to Netherby, until we +came to the high road close to the house. There +he took leave. +</p> + +<p> +"My Father would like to see you," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Drayton would be courteous to his mortal +enemy," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"We are not enemies," I said, a little pained. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven forbid," he replied; "but I had better +not come, not to-day. The fall of the earl scarcely +means the same thing in your home as in ours." +</p> + +<p> +"There will be no mean triumphing over Lord +Strafford's death at Netherby," I said, with some +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"There will be no low, or ungenerous, or mean +thing said by one of the Draytons!" he said, +warmly. "But I had better not see Mr. Drayton this +evening." +</p> + +<p> +And waving his plumed hat, he vaulted over the +stile; and I felt he was right. Looking back at the +turn leading to the house, I saw he was watching +me from the field. But as I turned the corner and +came in sight of the gables of the Manor, a foreboding +came on me, as of siftings and severings to +come—of a few pebbles, or a few rushes, gently +giving the slightest turn to the course of the two +little trickling springs, and their waters flowing, +ever after, by different banks, and falling at last +into the oceans which wash the shores of opposite +worlds. But not Lettice, never Lettice; the whole +world, I thought, should be no barrier to sever us +from Lettice! Nor should all the political or +ecclesiastical differences in the world ever check or +chill the current of our love and reverence to all the +true, and brave, and just, and good, and godly. +For politics, even ecclesiastical politics, are of time; +but truth, and courage, and justice, and goodness, +and godliness, are of God, and are eternal. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +</h3> + +<p> +The six mouths of the year 1641, from +early May till November, shine back on +me beyond the stormy years which part +them from us, like a meadow bright +with dew and sunshine on the edge of a dark and +heaving sea. Beyond those months, in the further +distance, stretches the dim Eden of childhood, with +its legends and its mysteries, and its gates of +Paradise scarcely closed. Bordering them, on the +further side, glooms the broad shadow of Roger's +temptation and bitter repentance. On the hither +side heaves the great intervening sea of civil war. +But through all, that little sunny space beams out, +peaceful, as if no stormy waves beat against it; +distinct, as if no long space of life parted it from +us. +</p> + +<p> +Did I say childhood was the Eden? Then youth +is the "garden planted eastward in Eden," the +Paradise which "the Lord God plants" in the outset of +the dullest or stormiest life, where the river which +compasseth the land flows over golden sands, "and +the gold of that land is good." Not childhood, +surely, but early youth, "the youth of youth," is +the golden age of life. Childhood is the twilight. +Youth is the beautiful dawn. Childhood is the +dream and the struggling out of it; youth is the +conscious, joyful waking. If childhood has its fairy +robes spun out of every gossamer, its fairy treasures +in every leaf; it has also its eerie terrors woven of +the twilight shadows, its overwhelming torrents of +sorrow having their fountains in an April shower, +as it steps uncertainly through the unknown world. +And neither its joys, nor its sorrows, nor its terrors, +nor its treasures, can it utter. +</p> + +<p> +Childhood is the dim Colchis where the Golden +Fleece lies hidden; youth is the Jason that brings +thence the "Argosy." Childhood is the sweet +shadowy Hesperides, lying dreamily in the tropic +sunshine, where the golden fruit ripens silently +among the dark and glossy leaves. Youth is the Hero +who penetrates the garden and makes it alive with +human music, and wins the fruit and bears it forth +into the free wide world. If childhood is the +golden age, youth is the heroic age, when the heart +beats high with the first consciousness of power, +and the first stir of half-conscious hopes; when the +earth lies before us as a field of glorious adventure, +and the heaven spreads above us a space for +boundless flight; before we have learned how mixed +earth's armies are, how slow the conquests of truth; +how seldom we can fight any battle here without +wounding some we would fain succour; or win any +victory in which some things precious as those +borne aloft before us in triumph, are not trailed in +the dust behind us, dishonoured and lost. +</p> + +<p> +Not that the most vivid and golden hopes of +youth are delusions. God forbid that I should +blaspheme His writing on the heart by thinking so +for an instant! It is but that the Omniscient, who +knows the glorious End that is to be, sets us in +youth on the mountain-tops to breathe the pure air +of heaven, foreshortening the intervening distance +from these heights of hope and by its sunny haze, +as eternity foreshortens it to Him; that, forgetting +the things that are behind, and overspanning the +things that are between, every brave and trusting +heart may go down into the battle-field strong in +the promise of the End, of the Triumph of Truth +that shall yet surely be, and of the Kingdom of +Righteousness that shall one day surely come. +</p> + +<p> +Such, at least, was youth to us; to Lettice Davenant, +and Roger, and me. And, looking back, this +sunny time of youth seems all gathered up into +those six months before the beginning of the Civil +War. +</p> + +<p> +For we were continually meeting through that +summer; and the land was quiet. At least so it +seemed to us at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +The king had granted Triennial Parliaments; had +granted that this Parliament should never be +dissolved like its predecessors by his arbitrary will, +but only with its own consent; had seemed, indeed, +ready to grant anything. Strafford, the strong prop +of his despotism, had fallen; Archbishop Laud, his +instigator to all the petty irritations of tyranny, +which had well-nigh driven the nation mad, lay +helpless in the Tower; the unjust judges, who had +decreed the evil decrees about ship-money, had fled, +disgraced, beyond the seas. What then might not +be hoped, if not from the king's active good-will, at +least from his passive consent? There had, indeed, +been an attempt to bring Pym and Hampden into +the royal councils, and if this had not quite succeeded, +at least the patriot St. John was solicitor-general. +</p> + +<p> +During much of the summer, after assenting to +everything the Parliament proposed, the king +sojourned in Scotland. It was true that the reports +that reached us thence were not altogether +satisfactory. There were rumours of army-plots +encouraged in the highest quarters; rumours of some dark +plot called "The Incident," intending treachery +against Argyle and others; of His Majesty going +with five hundred armed men to the Scottish +Parliament, to the great offence of all Edinburgh; +rumours that the English Parliament, hearing of +"The Incident," had demanded a guard against +similar outrages, if any "flagitious persons" should +attempt them. +</p> + +<p> +But for the most part, hope predominated over +fear with us at Netherby. One thing was certain; +a Parliament alive to every rumour stood on guard +for the nation at St. Stephen's, vowed together by +a solemn "Protestation" to do or suffer ought +rather than yield our ancient rights and liberties, +and until the note of warning came thence, the +nation might peacefully pursue its daily work; not +asleep, indeed, and with arms not out of reach, but +for the present called not to contend, but to work +and wait. +</p> + +<p> +There was just enough of stir in the air, and of +storm in the sky, to quicken every movement without +impeding it; to take all languor out of leisure, +to make moments of intercourse more precious, and +friendships ripen more quickly. +</p> + +<p> +We were still one nation, we owned one law, one +throne, one national council. We were still one +national Church, gathering weekly in one house of +prayer; kneeling, at least at Easter, although with +some scruples, around one Holy Table; together +confessing ourselves to have "gone astray like lost +sheep;" together giving thanks for our "creation +and redemption;" kneeling reverently, and with +one voice saying, "Our Father which art in heaven;" +together standing as confessors of one Catholic +faith, and with one voice repeating the ancient +creeds; together praying (in the words ordered in +King James' reign) for our sovereign lord King +Charles, and (in the form his own reign first +appointed) for the High Court of Parliament, under +him assembled. +</p> + +<p> +There were indeed words and postures and vestments +which were not to the liking of all, which to +some were signs of irritating defeat and to others +of petty triumph; but in general—especially since +the Book of Sports had been silenced, and +Archbishop Laud had been kept quiet (and Mr. Nicholls +had forsaken his more novel practices)—there was +a strong tide of truth and devotion in the ancient +services, which swept all true and devout hearts +along with it. +</p> + +<p> +And besides, there was, at this period, with some +of the Puritans, a hope of peacefully affecting some +slight further reformation, so that even Aunt +Dorothy was less controversial than usual; contenting +herself with an occasional warning against going +down to Egypt for horses, or against Achans in the +camp, and an occasional hope that, while his words +were smoother than butter, the enemy had not war +in his heart. But she did not distinctly explain +whether by these Achans and Egyptian cavalry she +meant Mr. Nicholls, Placidia, Lady Lucy, Lettice +and the king; or, on the other hand, the little band of +Separatists or Brownists whom we met from time +to time coming from their worship in a cottage on +the outskirts of the village, against whom she +considered my Father not a little remiss in his +magisterial duty. These apparently inoffensive people +were suspected of Anabaptist tendencies. Aunt +Gretel even associated them in her own mind with +some very dangerous characters of the same name +at Münster. It was, indeed, the utmost stretch of +her toleration, to connive at our Bob and Tib's +occasional attendance at their assemblies; but the +consideration of Tib's discreet years, and Bob's +discreet character, and Aunt Dorothy's somewhat +indiscreet zeal, had hitherto induced her to do so, +her conscience being further fortified by my Father's +solemn promise to bring these sectaries to justice if +ever they showed the slightest tendency towards +polygamy or homicide. They consisted chiefly of +small freeholders and independent hand-workers, +the tailor, the village carpenter, and at the head, +Job Forster, the blacksmith; Tib and Bob were, I +think, the only household servants among them. +They were few, poor, and quiet, doing nothing at +their meetings, it seemed, but read the Bible, listen +to one reading or explaining it, and praying: some +among them having scruples as to whether it might +not be a carnal indulgence to sing hymns. +Occasionally they were strengthened by the visit of a +preacher of their way of thinking from Suffolk, +where the sect was more numerous. They were +good to each other; not hurtful to any one else. +They would certainly, every one of them, have died +or gone into destitute exile for the minutest scruple +of their belief or disbelief, being satisfied that every +thread of the broidered work of their tabernacle +was as divinely ordered as the tables of the law +written with the finger of God. But as yet there +was nothing to show what their enthusiasm would +do when it was enkindled to action, instead of +smouldering in passive endurance; nothing to show +what germs of vigorous life lay dormant in that +little company, each holding his commission, as he +believed, direct from God. Yet from these, and +such as these, at the touch of Oliver Cromwell, +sprang into life that crop of Ironsides terrible as +Samsons, chaste as Sir Galahad, unyielding as +Elijah before the threats of Jezebel, unsparing as +Elijah with the prophets of Jezebel on Carmel, +which overthrew power after power in the state; +made England the greatest power in the world; +and if the only human hand that could command +it had been immortal, might have ruled England +and the world to this day. +</p> + +<p> +So many hidden germs of life lie around us undeveloped +everywhere. In the primeval forests of this, +our New England, when the pines are felled, a +succession of oaks springs up self-sown in their stead. +If the pines had not been felled what would have +become of the acorns? Would they have perished, +or waited dormant through the ages, till their hour +should come? +</p> + +<p> +But I am creeping back to Roger's ancient puzzle +of Necessity, wherewith he bewildered me of old +as we sat in the apple-tree at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +And after all, however these things be, it is only +the king's ministers that are changed in the universal +government of the nations. The King never +dies. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime these sectaries were the only outward +schism in the unity of the Church and Nation, as +represented at Netherby. Korahs, Dathans, and +Abirams, Aunt Dorothy called them, or (when she +was most displeased) "Anabaptists," and would +(theoretically) have liked them to be made +examples of in some striking and uncomfortable way; +harmless enthusiasts my Father called them, and let +them alone; well-meaning persons with dangerous +tendencies, Aunt Gretel considered them, and made +them possets and broth when they were ill. In +Lady Lucy's eyes they were misguided schismatics; +in Sir Walter's, self-conceited fools; in Harry +Davenant's, vulgar fanatics. Of all our circle, I thinkj +none cared to find out what they really meant and +wanted, except Roger, who, especially after his great +trouble, had always the most earnest desire not to +misjudge any one; or, indeed, to judge any one as +from a judgment-seat above them. And Roger said +they believed they had found God, and were living +in His Presence, as truly as Moses, or Elijah, or any +to whom He appeared of old, which made everything +else seem to them infinitely small in comparison; +that they wanted, above all things, to do what +God commanded, whenever they knew what it was, +which made every homeliest duty on the way +towards that end seem to them part of the "service +of the sanctuary," any mountain of difficulty but +as the small dust of the balance; every obstacle as +the chaff before the whirlwind. Convictions which +gave an invincible power of endurance, and could +give a tremendous force of achievement, as events +proved. +</p> + +<p> +To this better estimate of them, Roger was, no +doubt, partly led by his friendship for Job Forster. +Job, indeed, through the whole of these six months, +so calm and full of hope to us at Netherby, +continued to forebode storms. "The weather was +brewed," he said, "on the hills and by the sea; and folks +who were bred on the flats, out of sight of sea and +hills, and who only knew one-half of the world, +could not reasonably be expected to understand the +signs of the sky. The Lord, in his belief, had plenty +of work to do on his anvil yet, before the swords +were beaten into ploughshares and the spears into +pruning-hooks. It was more likely the +ploughshares would have to be beaten into swords, and +priming-hooks into spears." +</p> + +<p> +And the village coulters, spades, and mattocks, +received from Job's hammer treatment all the more +vigorous on account of the warlike figures they +supplied. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, Rachel, his wife, looking out from her +chamber-window one stormy night across the Fens, +had seen wonders in the heavens, black-plumed +clouds, marshalled like armies, rolling far away to +the east, till the rising sun smote them to a +blood-red; while high above, from behind these, one +white-winged arm, as of an archangel swept across +the sky untouched by the red glow of battle, raised +majestically, as if to warn or to smite. +</p> + +<p> +"There is something terrible going on somewhere," +she had said, "or else something terrible to +come." +</p> + +<p> +And Job, to whom Rachel's words had always a +tender sacredness in them, woven of the old +reverence of our northern race for the prophet-woman; +of sacred memories of the inspired songs of Deborah +and Hannah, interpreted by his belief that the +people of the Bible were not exceptional but +typical; and of his own strong love for her—believed +Rachel's visions with entire unconsciousness how +much they were reflections of his own convictions. +"How," he would say, "could a feeble creature +like her, nurtured and cherished like a babe, and +busy all her life in naught but enduring sicknesses +or doing kindnesses, know aught of wars and +battlefields, unless it was of the Lord?" So Job +foreboded, and we hoped, and the summer months +passed on. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely a day passed on which we and the Davenants +did not meet, especially Roger, and Lettice, +and I; for Roger had taken his degree, and having +overworked at it, was constrained to be idle for a +while; and the boy Davenants were most of the +time in London. At church, at the Hall, at the +Manor, riding, coursing, hay-making, nutting, +boating on the Mere; on rainy days, hunting out +wonderful old illuminated manuscripts in Sir Walter's +library, or by the organ in my Father's, singing +glees and madrigals; making essays at Italian poetry, +generally resulting in translations, metrical or +otherwise, by Roger, for Lettice's benefit. Lettice +reigning in all things, by a thousand indisputable +royal rights; as pupil; as sovereign lady; as the +youngest; as the most adventurous; as the most +timid; by right of her need of care, and her +clinging to protection; by right of minority, she being +one, and we two; by right of her true constancy +and her little seeming ficklenesses; by right of her +brilliant, ever-changing beauty, and all her +nameless, sweet, tyrannical, winning, willful ways; by +right of all her generous self-forgetfulness, and +delight to give pleasure; and firstly and lastly, by +right of the subtle power which, through all these +charms, stole into Roger's heart, and took possession +of it, unchallenged and unresisted, then and for +ever. +</p> + +<p> +We spoke little of politics. Lettice never had +any, except loyalty to the king; and at this time +her loyalty was sorely tried by reason of her +perplexity and distress at what seemed to her the +ungenerous desertion of Strafford in his need. +</p> + +<p> +There were no forbidden topics between us. +There was one, indeed, which by tacit mutual +consent we always avoided, and that was all that +concerned Sir Launcelot Trevor. Lettice, always +scenting from afar the least symptom of what could +pain, never approached what had been the cause of +so much anguish to Roger; and me she never freed +from the suspicion of a certain sisterly injustice in +my sentiments towards my brother's enemy. But +a very insignificant and unnecessary chamber indeed +was this to be locked out of the palace of delights +through which we three roamed at will together. +Nor can I remember one pang of vexation at my +own falling from the first place to the second in +Roger's thoughts. If I had not loved Lettice on +my own account as I did, there was nothing in +Roger's love for her that could have sown one +miserable seed of jealousy in my heart. If he loved her +most, he was more to me than ever before. The +reflection of his tender reverence for her fell like a +glory on all women for her sake. He was more to +all for being most to her. Mean calculations of +more or less, better or best, could not enter into +comparison in affections stamped with such a sweet +diversity. All true love expands, not narrows; +strengthens, not weakens; anoints the eyes with +eye-salve, not blinds; opens the heart, and opens +the world, and transfigures the universe into an +enchanted palace and treasure-house of joys, simply +by giving the key to unlock its chambers, and the +vision to see its treasures. +</p> + +<p> +This was the innermost heart of the joy of those +our halcyon days, that Roger and Lettice and I +were together. We three made for ourselves our +new Atlantis. We should have made it equally in +the dingiest street of London city. Only, there the +joy within us would have had to transform our +world into a paradise. At Netherby, riding over +the fields with the fresh air in our faces, or roaming +the musical woods, or skimming the Mere while +Roger rowed, and dipping our hands in the cool +waters, or talking endlessly on the fragrant garden +terraces of the Manor and the Hall, it had not to +transform, only to translate. +</p> + +<p> +Outside this inner world of our own lay a bright +and friendly world all around us. First, our +Father, sweet Lady Lucy, and Aunt Gretel—scarcely +indeed outside, except by the fact of their not quite +understanding what we had within, regarding us, +as they fondly did, as dear happy children not yet +out of our paradise of childhood; next Aunt Dorothy, +Job Forster, and Rachel, guarding us as fondly, +though anxiously, as on the unconscious eve of +encounter with our dragons and leviathans; and +beyond, the village, of which we were the children; +the country, which was our mother; the world, of +which we were the heirs. For to us in those days +there were no harassing Philistines, no crushing +Babylon; no Egyptians behind, nor Red Sea before. +The world was to be conquered, but not as a prostrate +foe, rather as a willing tributary to Truth and +Right. The kings of Tarshish and of the isles were +to bring presents; Sheba and Seba were to offer +gifts. The wilderness and the solitary place were +to be glad for us, and the desert was to rejoice and +blossom as the rose. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Lady Lucy came back to her old place +in my heart. Her sweet motherliness seemed to +brood like the wings of a dove over our whole +happy world. +</p> + +<p> +Harry Davenant came more than once to the +Hall, and stayed a few days, to Lady Lucy's perfect +content, and entered into our pursuits as keenly +as any of us. Only with him there was always an +undertone of sadness, a despondency about the +country and the world, a bitterness about the times, +a slight cynicism about men and women, inevitable, +perhaps, to a noble spirit like his, which (as it seems +to me) has lost its way, and strayed into the +backward current, contrary to all the generous forward +movements of the age; but strongly contrasted +with the steadfast, hopeful temper no danger +could daunt and no defeat could damp, which +characterized the nobler spirits on the patriot side. +The noble Sir Bevil Grenvill had bitter thoughts of +his contemporaries; the generous Lord Falkland +craved for peace and welcomed death. Eliot, Pym, +Hampden, Cromwell, Milton, looked for liberty; +believed in the triumph of truth; thought England +worth fighting for, living for, if needful, dying for; +they braved death indeed like heroes, they met it +like Christians, but they did not long for it like men +sick and hopeless of the world. If God had willed +it so, they had rather have lived on, because of the +great hopes that inspired them, because they +believed that not fate nor the devil were at the heart +of the world, or at the head of the nations; but +God. +</p> + +<p> +Yet about such men as Harry Davenant there +was an inexpressible fascination. There is something +that irresistibly touches the heart in heroism +which, like Hector's of Troy, is nourished, not by +hope, but by duty; which sacrifices self in a cause +which it believes no courage and no sacrifice can +make victorious, and bates no jot of heart when all +hope has fled. +</p> + +<p> +And to me he was always so gentle a friend. +We had so many things in common; our love for +his Mother, his reverence for my Father's goodness, +justice, and wisdom; his generous appreciation of +Roger; a certain protecting, shielding tenderness +we both had for Lettice, who was, indeed, a creature +so tender, and dependent, and willful, so likely +to rush into trouble, so sure to feel it, that no +womanly heart could help feeling motherlike toward +her. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there always seemed a kind of half-acknowledged +barrier between us, even from the first, more +distinctly acknowledged afterwards, which gave a +strange mixture of frankness and reserve, of +nearness and separation, to our intercourse; wherein, +perhaps, lay something of its charm. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And across this world of ours flashed from time +to time during those months lofty visions of +nobleness and wisdom from other spheres; especially +during the last six weeks when the Parliament was +in recess, and many a worthy head found a night's +shelter in the guest-chamber at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hampden was in Scotland as Parliamentary +Commissioner, keeping watch over the king; +Mr. Pym, at his lodgings in Gray's Inn Lane, keeping +guard for the nation. But Mr. Cromwell went +home in the recess to his family at Ely, and spent +some hours with us on his way back to London. +He was forty-two years old then, my Father said, +and his hair was not without some tinge of gray; +tall, all but six feet in stature, and firmly knit. +Many things seemed to lie hidden in the depths of +his grave eyes; a subdued fire of temper flashing +forth at times sufficiently to show that at the heart +of this gravity lay not ice but fire; a hearty +humour, as of a soul at liberty, grasping its purpose +firmly enough to be able to give it play—keen to +descry likenesses in things unlike, inner differences +in things similar, absurdities in things decorous, +and the meaning of men and things in general +through all seemings. Yet withal, capacities and +traces of heart-deep sorrow, as of one who had +looked into the depths on many sides and found them +unfathomable. Moreover, above all, his were eyes +which saw; not merely windows through which +you looked into the soul. Aunt Gretel said there +was a look in him which made her think of a portrait +of Dr. Luther which she had seen in her youth. +He loved music, too, which was another resemblance +to Dr. Luther. He was always kind to us +children, and now he spoke fondly of his two "little +wenches" at home—Bridget (afterwards Mistress +Ireton), a little beyond my age, and Elizabeth +(Mistress Claypole), then about eleven, his dearly-loved +daughter; and the two blithe little ones, Mary and +Frances, about five and three. Methought his eyes +rested with a sorrowful yearning on Roger; and +my Father told us, after he left, he had only two +years before, in May, buried his eldest son Robert, +about nineteen, which was Roger's age. This son +was buried far from home, at Felsted Church in +Essex; a youth whose promise had been so great +that the parson of the parish where he died had +inserted a record of him in the parish register, which +reads like a fond epitaph amidst the dry unbroken +list of names and dates. Mr. Cromwell spoke also +with much reverence of his aged mother, who dwelt +in his house at Ely. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Cromwell was full of a firm confidence in the +future of the church and the country; but, like Job +Forster, he seemed to think there was much to be +done and gone through before the end was gained. +On his way through the village he had held some +converse with Job Forster while having his horse +shod; and he said something of such men as Job +being the men for a Parliament army, if ever such +an army should be needed. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst Job, on his part, as he told us afterwards, +was deeply moved by his interview with Mr. Cromwell. +"He was a man," said Job, "who had been +in the depths, and had brought thence the sacred +fire, which made two or three of his words worth a +hundred spoken by common men." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Then towards the close of that happy time there +was one evening in October which lingers on my +memory as its golden sunset lingered on the +many-coloured autumn woods. +</p> + +<p> +We were standing on the terrace at Netherby, +overlooking the orchard, Roger, Lettice, and I, in +the fading light; Lettice twining some water-lilies +Roger had just gathered from the pond. Through +the embayed window of the wainscoted parlour, +which stood open, poured forth the music of my +Father's organ, in chords rich and changing as +the colours of the sunset on wood, and meadow, and +Mere. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. John Milton was the musician, and as the +intertwined harmonies flowed from his hands +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "In linked sweetness long drawn out,<br> + His melting voice through mazes running,<br> + Untwisted all the chains that tie<br> + The hidden soul of harmony."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +As we listened, enrapt by the power of the music, +which seemed +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Dead things with imbreathèd sense, able to pierce,<br> + And to our high-raised phantasy present<br> + That undisturbed song of pure concent<br> + Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne<br> + To Him that sits thereon."—<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +the lilies dropped from Lettice's fingers, and she +sat like the statue of a listening nymph; the knitting +fell from Aunt Gretel's lap, and the tears came +into her eyes, and, thinking of my mother, she +murmured "Magdalene!" Roger and I were leaning +on the window-sill, and all of us were so +unconscious of anything present, that Lady Lucy had +advanced from the other end of the terrace near +enough to touch me on the arm without my hearing +a footstep. +</p> + +<p> +By her side stood a courtly-looking young clergyman, +with dark hair flowing from under his velvet +cap, and dark, meditative eyes, yet with much light +of smiles hidden in them, like dew in violets. Him +she introduced as "Dr. Taylor, one of His Majesty's +chaplains." He was not yet eight-and-twenty years +of age, but was in mourning for his first wife, but +lately dead. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Milton joined us soon with my Father. He +was a few years older than Dr. Taylor, but in +appearance much more youthful; with his brown +un-Puritan love-locks, his short stature, his face +determined, almost to severity, yet delicate as a beautiful +woman's. +</p> + +<p> +And then between these two, while we listened, +ensued an hour's converse, like the antiphons of some +heavenly choir. +</p> + +<p> +Names of ancient heroes and philosophers—Egyptian, +Assyrian, Greek, Latin—dropped from +their lips like household words. Until at last they +rose into a chorus in praise of liberty, of conscience, +and of thought; Dr. Taylor, I thought, basing his +argument more on the dimness of human vision, and +Mr. Milton on the inherent and victorious might of +truth. Dr. Taylor pleading for a charitable +tolerance for error, Mr. Milton for a glorious freedom +for truth; the which converse I often recalled when, +in after years, we read the Liberty of Prophesying +by the one, and the Liberty of Printing by the +other. +</p> + +<p> +As they spoke, the glory faded from the sky and +the golden autumnal woods, and when they ceased, +and we stepped from the terrace into the gloom of +the dark wainscoted parlour, it seemed to me as if +we had stepped out of a fragrant and melodious +elysium into a farm-yard, so homely and unmeaning, +like the cacklings or lowings of animals, did all +common discourse seem afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, when Mr. Milton had left us, and +we were speaking together of this discourse, Aunt +Gretel said it was like beautiful music, only, being +mostly in a kind of Latin, was, of course, beyond +her comprehension. Aunt Dorothy only consoled +herself for what she regarded as the dangerous +licence of their conclusions, by the thought that their +path to them was too fantastic and fine for any +common mortals to tread. And my Father said +afterwards that it seemed to him as if Dr. Taylor's +learning and fancy hung around his reason like the +jewelled state-trappings of a royal palfrey; you +wondered how his wit could move so nimbly under +such a weight of ornament; whilst Mr. Milton's +learning and imagination were like wings to the +strong Pegasus of his wisdom, only helping him to +soar. When Dr. Taylor alluded to the lore of +the ancients, it seemed like a treasury wherewith +to adorn his fancies or to wing his airy shafts. But +to Mr. Milton it seemed an armory common to him +and to the wise men of whom he spoke, and to +which he had as free access as they; to draw thence +weapons for his warfare and theirs, and to add +thereto for the generations to come. +</p> + +<p> +Yet brilliant and glowing as their speech was, +Roger would have it that Mr. Cromwell's brief and +rugged words had in them more of the red heat +that fuses the weapons wherewith the great battles +of life are fought. For we spoke often of that +evening, Roger, and Lettice, and I, in the few short +days that remained of our golden age of peace. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Scarcely a fortnight after that evening at Netherby, +tidings of the Irish massacre thrilled through +all the land with one shudder of horror and helpless +indignation for the past; awakening one bitter cry +for rescue and vengeance in the future. +</p> + +<p> +On the 20th of October the Parliament had met +again. +</p> + +<p> +It was a gray and comfortless evening early in +November when a Post spurred into the village of +Netherby, and stopped at Job Forster's forge to +have some slight repair made in the gear of his +horse. +</p> + +<p> +Rachel was there immediately with a jug of ale +for the weary rider and water for his horse. The +horseman took both in silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Thou art scant of greetings to-day, +good-master," said Job, as he busied himself about the broken +bit, without looking in the rider's face. +</p> + +<p> +But Rachel, who had caught in an instant the +weight of heavy tidings on the stranger's face, laid +her hand with a silencing gesture on her husband's +arm. +</p> + +<p> +Then Job looked up, and meeting the horseman's +eye, dropped the bit, and said abruptly,— +</p> + +<p> +"What tidings, master? We are not of those +who look for smooth things." +</p> + +<p> +"Rough enough," was the reply. "A hundred +thousand Protestants,* men, women, and children, +surprised, and robbed, and massacred in Ireland, +scarce more than a sennight agone. At morning, +met with good-days and friendly looks by the +Papists around them; before evening, driven from +their burning homes, naked and destitute, into the +roads and wildernesses. Thousands murdered +amidst their ruined homes; happy those who were +only murdered, or murdered quickly; no mercy on +age or sex, no memory of kindness; treachery and +torture; women and little children turning into +fiends of cruelty. Dublin itself only saved by one +who gave warning the evening before. But the +worst was for the women, and the little helpless +tortured babes." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* This was the number commonly believed among us at the +time. Since I have heard it disputed. But that the slaughter +and the atrocities were terrible, there can be no doubt. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Softly, softly, master," said Job; for Rachel had +fallen on his shoulder fainting. "She can bear to +hear any dreadful thing, or to see any dreadful +sight, if she can be of any help; but this is too +much for her." +</p> + +<p> +Gently he bore her in and laid her on the bed, +and hesitated an instant what to do, not liking to +leave her. +</p> + +<p> +"She always seems to know whether it's me or +any one else, even when she's clean gone like this," +he said; "but yet I dare not hinder the Post." +</p> + +<p> +"Leave her to me, Job," I said; "she'll not feel +strange with me." +</p> + +<p> +And after a moment's further pause, lifting her +into an easier position, he went out. +</p> + +<p> +Sprinkling water on her face and chafing her +hands, breathing on her lips and temples, as I had +seen Aunt Gretel do in such a case, I had the +comfort of soon seeing Rachel languidly open her eyes. +For a moment there was a bewildered, inquiring +look in them, but quickly it gave place to a +mournful collectedness. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew it—I knew it, Mistress Olive!" she said, +"I knew something must come. But I thought the +judgment would fall on the Lord's enemies; and +Job and I have been pleading with Him for mercy, +even on them. I never thought the sword would +fall on the sheep of His pasture. Least of all on the +lambs," she added; "on the innocent lambs. But +maybe, after all, that was His mercy. They are but +gone home by a cruel path, poor innocents—only +gone home." Then a burst of tears came to her +relief; a neighbour came in to help; and I left to go +home without further delay. +</p> + +<p> +The few minutes which I had spent at Rachel +Forster's bedside had sufficed to gather all the +village around the forge; women with babies in their +arms and little ones clinging to their skirts; men +on their way home from the day's labour with +spades and mattocks on their shoulders; the tailor +needle in hand; the miller white from the mill; +women with hands full of dough from the +kneading-trough; none waiting to lay aside an implement, +none left hehind but the bedridden, yet none asking +a question, or uttering an exclamation, as they +passed around the messenger, drinking in the +horrible details of the slaughter. Only, in the pauses, +a long-drawn breath, or now and then a suppressed +sob from the women. +</p> + +<p> +Job meanwhile continued, as was his wont, working +his feelings into the task he had in hand, so that +long before the villagers were weary of listening +while the Post told the cruel particulars, heightening +the excitement and deepening the silence, the bit +was mended, every weak point of hoof or harness +had undergone Job's skillful inspection, and +offering the messenger another draught at the beer-can, +he said to him in his abrupt way,— +</p> + +<p> +"Whither next, master? We may not delay +such tidings." +</p> + +<p> +"I have letters for Squire Drayton of Netherby +Manor," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Trust them to me," said Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"The best hands you can trust them to," said +Job. +</p> + +<p> +In consideration of the urgent need of haste, the +Post gave us a letter in Dr. Antony's writing to +Roger, and in another minute was out of sight +beyond the turn of the village street. +</p> + +<p> +A little murmur arose among the village-gossips. +"No need for breaking a Post short like that, +goodman Forster," said the miller's wife; "sure he +knows his own business best." +</p> + +<p> +"What did we need to hear more, good wife?" +was Job's reply. "All England has to hear it yet! +Thousand of prayers have to be stirred up throughout +the land before night. And haven't we heard +enough to make this night a night of watching? +Hearkening to fearful tales helps little; and talking +less. For this kind goeth not out but with prayer +and fasting." +</p> + +<p> +And Job turned away into his cottage. But as +Roger and I hastened up the street, the village had +already broken into little eager groups, and the +words, "the Irish Popish Army," and "the Popish +Queen," came with bitter emphasis from many +voices. +</p> + +<p> +Deep was the excitement at home when we +brought the terrible tidings. Dr. Antony's letter +too dreadfully confirmed them, telling how the +House of Commons received the news, brought in +by one O'Conolly, in an awe-stricken silence; how +nearly all Ulster, the head-quarters of the Protestants, +was still in the hands of the insurgents; the +towns and villages in flames. +</p> + +<p> +"Tilly and Magdeburg!" were the first words +that broke from my Father's lips. "The same strife, +the same weapons, the same fiendish cruelty, in the +name of the All Pitiful. If such another conflict is +indeed to come, God send England weapons as good +wherewith to wage it; soldiers that can pray; and, +if such can be twice in one generation, another +Gustavus!" +</p> + +<p> +Fervently he pleaded that night together with +the gathered household for the robbed and bereaved +sufferers in Ireland. Far into the night Roger saw +the lamp burning in his window. No doubt he had +sought Job Forster's Refuge. +</p> + +<p> +But the next morning, when we came in to breakfast, +he had taken down the old sword he had worn +through the German wars; and was trying its edge. +</p> + +<p> +"The good God keep us from war, Brother!" +said Aunt Gretel, trembling at the thoughts that +old weapon recalled, "I was thinking we might +search out our stores for woolseys and linseys. +They will be sure to be sending such to the poor +sufferers, and they will be building orphan houses." +</p> + +<p> +"Citadels have to be built and kept first!" said +my Father. "There are times when war is as much +a work of mercy as clothing the naked and feeding +the hungry." +</p> + +<p> +"But war with whom, Brother?" said Aunt Dorothy, +pointedly. "It is little use lopping the +branches and sparing the tree. What has become +of the Irish Popish army the king was so loth to +dismiss? Of what avail is it to smite a few poor +blind fanatics, when the Popish queen and her +Jesuits rule in the Palace? It wearies me to the +heart to hear of honest men like Mr. Hampden, +Mr. Pym, and all of them impeaching Lord Strafford +and imprisoning Archbishop Laud, who, I believe +(poor deluded man), thought himself doing God's +service; and yet kissing the hand that appointed +Laud and Strafford, and would sign death-warrants +for every patriot and Puritan in the kingdom +to-night, if it were safe." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Hampden, Mr. Pym, and Mr. Cromwell are +doing their best to make it not safe, Sister Dorothy," +was my Father's reply. "And meantime there is +more strength in silence than in invective." +</p> + +<p> +"A Parliament of women," said Aunt Dorothy, +"would have gone to the point months since, and +let the king understand what they meant." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably," said my Father, "but the great +thing is to gain the point." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Unusually early in the day for her, Lady Lucy +appeared at the Manor, with Harry and Lettice +walking beside her horse. +</p> + +<p> +She looked very pale as my Father led her into +the wainscoted parlour. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Drayton," she said, "who ever could have +dreamed of such tidings! The only ray of comfort +is that they may help to unite our distracted +country. There can be but one mind throughout +the land about such deeds as these. The king went +at once to the Scottish Parliament with the news, +to seek their counsel and aid. Now at least the +king, parliament, and nation, will be one in their +indignation." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be well if the king had dismissed +before this the Irish Catholic army which Lord +Strafford raised for him," said nay Father. "It is +well known that its officers have been in communication +with the assassins." +</p> + +<p> +"The king did send orders to disband it long +since," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>public</i> orders," my Father replied; "but +there are rumours of secret instructions having +accompanied, not precisely to the same effect." +</p> + +<p> +"Rumours!" she said eagerly; "Mr. Drayton, +mere rumours! You are too just and generous to +listen to a vulgar report, with the king's word +against it." +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," he replied, very gravely, "it would +have been the salvation of the country long since if +the king's word had been a sufficient reply to +attacks on his policy. There is nothing so revolutionary +as falsehood in high places." +</p> + +<p> +"You call the king a revolutionist?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"I call untruth the great revolutionist," he +replied. "Without truth and trust all communities +must ultimately fall to pieces, with more or less +noise, according as they are assailed by a strong +hand from without, or simply crumble from within. +The ruin is certain." +</p> + +<p> +"But all good men must be agreed in detesting +these barbarous deeds," she said. "Even the Earl +of Castlehaven, a Catholic, has said that all the +water in the sea would not wash off from the Irish +the stain of their treacherous murders in a time of +settled peace." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt there are Catholics, madam, who speak +the truth and hate injustice," said my Father. +</p> + +<p> +"You are unjust, you are cruel to His Majesty," +she said, with tears in her eyes, "if you could be +unjust or cruel to any one." +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Lucy," he replied, "this is a time for all +men who fear God and love England to be united. +Would Lord Strafford (could he come back among +us) contradict the words wrung from him when the +king signed his death-warrant? Would he say, 'Put +your trust in princes?'" +</p> + +<p> +Harry Davenant passionately interposed. +</p> + +<p> +"It is too bad to drive the king to actions he +detests, and then to reproach him for them. He would +have saved Lord Strafford, as all men know, if he +could. It is the distrust of the country that has +compelled the king to have recourse to subtleties +no gentleman would choose." +</p> + +<p> +"Harry Davenant," said my Father, "I am +confident no measure of unjust distrust would drive +you to the policy of making promises you never +meant to keep." +</p> + +<p> +"My life is simple, sir," was the mournful reply, +"and it is my own. If I choose any evil to myself, +rather than go from my word, or imply the thing I +do not mean, I am at liberty to do so. But the +king's life is manifold. He stands before the Highest +with the nation gathered up into his single person. +He stands above the nation as the anointed +representative of the King of kings. God himself is only +indirectly King of nations by being King of kings. +He stands between the past and the future with a +sacred trust of prerogative and right to guard and +transmit. It is not for us to apply the standards of +our private morality to him." +</p> + +<p> +"Apply the standards of Divine morality to all!" +said my Father. "Truth is the pillar of heaven as +well as of earth. There is no bond of society like +a trusted word." +</p> + +<p> +"At least, sir," rejoined Harry Davenant, gently +but loftily, "it is not for me who eat the king's +bread to say or hear ought disloyal to him. Nor +will I." And he rose to leave. +</p> + +<p> +My Father held out his hand to grasp his. +</p> + +<p> +"One word more," he said, "disloyalty is a terrible +word, and we may hear more of it in these coming +years. Let me say to you, once for all, the +question is not of loyalty or disloyalty, but to +whom our loyalty is due. I believe it is to England +and her laws; to the king if he is faithful to these." +</p> + +<p> +"What tribunal can judge the king?" Harry +Davenant replied. +</p> + +<p> +"More than one," said my Father, solemnly. "The +English laws he has sworn to maintain; the eternal +Lawgiver from whom you say he holds his crown, +whose laws of truth and equity are no secret, and +are as binding on the peasant as the prince." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Lucy's manner had a peculiar tenderness in +it to me as she wished me good-bye. +</p> + +<p> +"Very difficult times, Olive!" she said, kissing +me; "but we will remember women have one +work at all times; to make peace and pour balm +into wounds." +</p> + +<p> +And Lettice whispered to me and Roger,— +</p> + +<p> +"Don't believe those wicked things about the +king, or I shall not be able to come to Netherby." +</p> + +<p> +Roger looked sorely perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +"But how can we help believing them," he said, +"if we find them true?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can always help believing things I don't like," +she said. "Wishing is half way to believing." And +she slipped away, leaving a very heavy +shadow on Roger's face as he turned back to the +house. +</p> + +<p> +"Not quite so clear, Olive," said Aunt Dorothy, +when I repeated to her Lady Lucy's words as a +proof of her good will. "There are times when +Deborah is as necessary as Barak, and more so. +And then there was Judith, a valiant and godly +woman, although she is in the Apocrypha. And +there are times when the knife is kinder than all the +balm in Gilead." +</p> + +<p> +"Knives are never safe, however," added my +Father, "except in hands that use them for the +same purpose as the balms." +</p> + +<p> +The intercourse of the two families did not cease +after that little debate. It rather became more +frequent. The uneasy consciousness of the many +public differences that might at any time sever us +only made us cling the more tenaciously, although +with trembling, to the private ties that united us +For a fortnight after the Irish tidings reached us, +Lady Lucy, Aunt Gretel, and even Aunt Dorothy, +found a practical bond of union in collecting all the +clothes and provisions they could send to the +sufferers by the Irish massacre. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the news of divisions in the patriot +party in the Parliament, with reference to the +framing and printing of the Grand Remonstrance, voted +to be printed on the 8th of December. Lady Lucy +dwelt much on the conciliatory intentions of the +king, on the feastings and welcomes prepared for +him in the city of London, and especially on the +defection of the gallant Sir Bevil Granvill, Lord +Falkland, and Mr. Hyde, from the popular cause. +"All moderate men," she said, "felt it was becoming +the cause of disorder, and were abandoning it; +and my Father, the most moderate and candid of +men, would not, she was sure, remain with a little +knot of fanatics and levellers." +</p> + +<p> +That Christmas-tide the Grand Remonstrance, +with its long list of royal and ecclesiastical +oppressions, and its statement of the recent victories of +Parliament over evil laws and evil councillors, was +read and eagerly debated at every fire-side in the +kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +"But what do they want?" Lady Lucy would +say. "They seem, from their own statements, to +have gained all they sought." +</p> + +<p> +"They want security for everything!" my Father +would reply, "security for what they have won; a +guard of their own appointing to keep them free, to +secure them against the guard of his own appointing, +with which they believe the king is endeavouring +to surround and make them prisoners." +</p> + +<p> +"Will no promises, no assurances of good-will +satisfy them?" she said. "They have sent ten more +prelates to keep the archbishop company in the +Tower. What further guarantees would they demand?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is hard indeed," he said, sorrowfully, "for all +the concessions in the world to restore broken +confidence. All the fortresses in England, or a +standing army of a million, would not be such a +safeguard to the king as his own word might have been. +There is no cement in heaven or earth strong enough +to restore trust in broken faith." +</p> + +<p> +"It is not always so easy to be sincere," she said, +"and God forgives and trusts us again and again." +</p> + +<p> +"God forgives because he sees," he said. "Nations +are not omniscient, and therefore cannot forgive, +nor trust when they have been betrayed." +</p> + +<p> +"The Parliament is unreasonable," she said, with +tears in her eyes; "they judge like private gentlemen. +Statesmen and princes cannot speak with the +simple candour of private men. Politics are like +chess. You would not confide every move beforehand +to your enemy." +</p> + +<p> +"The King and the Parliament do not profess to +be on opposite sides of the game," he replied. "But +if, in fact, it has come to that, can you wonder at +any amount of mutual suspicion? Yet our Puritan +faith is, that there is but one law of truth and +equity in heaven and earth for prince, soldier, +peasant, woman, and child. And I believe that, even +with hostile nations, not all the diplomatic subtleties +in the world would give us the strength there +is in a trusted word. Let it once be felt of man or +nation, 'They have said it, therefore they mean it;' +and they have a strength nothing else can give. +There must be two threads to weave a web of false +policy. Withdraw one, and the other falls to pieces +of itself. I believe the ruler who could make the +word of an Englishman a proverb for truth, would +do more for the strength of England than one who +won her fortresses on every island and coast in the +world." +</p> + +<p> +"But see how the king trusts the people, Mr. Drayton," +she said. "His presence in that very +tumultuous disorderly city ought to make them +believe him." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not see that His Majesty has had reason to +distrust the people," my Father replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" she sighed; "if you had only seen His +Majesty amidst his family, his chivalrous tenderness +to the queen, his native stateliness all laid aside in +playful fondness for his children." +</p> + +<p> +"It might have made it more painful to have to +distrust him as a king," my Father replied. "It +could scarcely have made it more possible to +trust." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," she said, "either the nation will learn, +ere long, to trust his gracious intentions as he +deserves, or will learn to their cost what a sovereign +they have distrusted!" +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But scarcely a week afterwards the whole country +was set in a flame by the tidings that His Majesty +had gone in person—attended by five hundred +armed men, many of them young desperadoes, +feasted the night before at Whitehall—to arrest the +five members (Pym, Hampden, Hazelrig, Denzil +Hollis, and William Strode) in the inviolate +sanctuary of the nation, the Parliament House itself. +</p> + +<p> +And after that my Father and Lady Lucy ceased +to hold any more political debates. +</p> + +<p> +He simply said, when, on the evening of those +tidings, we met in the village,— +</p> + +<p> +"The meaning of His Majesty's promises seems +plain at last." +</p> + +<p> +And she replied,— +</p> + +<p> +"But if all good men distrust His Majesty, will +he not be driven to trust to evil men?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid the course of falsehood is ever +downward," he answered, very sadly, "and the +breaches of just distrust ever widening." +</p> + +<p> +"But, for heaven's sake, Mr. Drayton," she said, +with an imploring accent, as we returned with her +to the Hall, "think before you plunge into these +terrible divisions." +</p> + +<p> +"I have thought long, madam," he said, "for I +have fought in the Thirty Years' War, and seen +how war can devastate." +</p> + +<p> +"But that was easy," she said, "that was church +against church, state against state, prince against +prince. This will be the church divided against +itself, the nation divided against itself, subject +against king, one good man against another. Think, +if you join Mr. Hampden and Mr. Pym what noble +and wise men you will have against you! (for you +honour Sir Bevil Grenvill and Lord Falkland as +much as we do); what violent and fanatical men +with you!" +</p> + +<p> +"If all good men were on one side," he said, +sorrowfully, "there need be few battles in church or +state." +</p> + +<p> +"It seems to me," she added, "there is no party +one would willingly join save that of the peace-makers." +</p> + +<p> +"That indeed is the very party I would seek to +join," said my Father. "But that seems to me the +very party which, from ancient times, has been +stigmatized as those who turn the world upside down. +Since the Fall peace can seldom be reached save +through conflict." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Roger had joined us, and Lettice, as +we were about to separate, whispered to me, +clasping my hands in hers,— +</p> + +<p> +"They may turn the world upside down, Olive, +but they shall not separate us! How happy it is +for us," she said, turning to Roger, who was standing +a little apart, "that, as Harry says, women have +nothing to do with politics." +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid," he said, in his abrupt way, +"women have often more than any to suffer from +politics." +</p> + +<p> +"You take things so gravely, Roger," she said. +"Everything would be right if you would not all +of you be so hard on people who have done a little +wrong; and would only try and believe what we +must all wish, and so bring it about." +</p> + +<p> +"Everything will be <i>wrong</i>," said Roger, with +melancholy emphasis, "if you will believe things +and people because you wish, and not because they +are true." +</p> + +<p> +For Roger, true to every one, was truthful to +scrupulousness with Lettice; what she was, or +became, being of more moment to him than even what +she thought of him. +</p> + +<p> +But Lettice only laughed, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sixteen, and I have seen the country +at the point of ruin, I cannot tell how many times. +Other clouds have blown over, and so will this." +</p> + +<p> +And she sped away to rejoin her mother, only +once more turning back to wave her hand and say: +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow morning, Olive, at the Lady Well! +The ice will be strong enough on the Mere for +skating. To-morrow!" +</p> + +<p> +But the next morning, when Roger and I went to +the Lady Well, no Lettice was there. +</p> + +<p> +Snow had fallen in the night. +</p> + +<p> +The frozen surface of the Mere was strewn with +it, except in places where it was sheltered by the +overhanging brushwood, where it lay black as steel +against the white banks. All the music was frozen +in stream and wood. The drops, whose soft trickling +into the well beneath, had floated Lettice and +me into fairy-land last summer, hung in glittering +silent icicles around the stone sides of the well. +</p> + +<p> +And Roger and I went silently home. +</p> + +<p> +"The snow has detained her," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"She is not so easily turned aside from a +promise," he said. +</p> + +<p> +And when we reached home we found a messenger +and a letter from Lettice, saying Lady Lucy had +been summoned to attend the Queen at Windsor, +that Lettice had accompanied her, and that Harry +Davenant and Sir Walter, being engaged about the +king's person, Sir Launcelot Trevor had come to +escort them. +</p> + +<p> +"The Princess Mary is about to be married to the +Prince of Orange," Lettice wrote; "and as the +queen is to accompany her to the Low Countries, +she wishes to see my mother before she leaves the +country." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be a good service to us all if the queen +would stay away for ever," said Aunt Dorothy—and +she expressed the feeling of a large part of the +nation—"the king would lose the worst of his evil +counsellors." +</p> + +<p> +"That depends," said my Father, sadly, "on +whether the king is not his own worst counsellor. +If the evil has its origin in others, the queen may +indeed injure him more by remaining here. But, on +the other hand, she may succour him more on the +Continent." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, at all events," said Aunt Dorothy, "her +absence may be a blessing to Lady Lucy and +Mistress Lettice. For that child is not without +gracious dispositions. Last week she called when every +one else was out, and wishing to turn the time to +account, I set her to read aloud from the sermons of +good Mr. Adams; and she read two and part of the +third, only twice going to the window to see if any +one was coming, and never even looking up, after I +once asked her if she was tired." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think she really enjoyed them, Aunt +Dorothy?" I asked; knowing how difficult it was +to ascertain Lettice's distastes, on account of her +predominant taste of doing what pleased other +people. +</p> + +<p> +"I think better of the child than to deem she +would seem pleased with aught she did not really +like," said Aunt Dorothy; and, although unconvinced, +I rejoiced that Aunt Dorothy had fallen under +the spell. +</p> + +<p> +"What did she say?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"The first sermon was 'The Spiritual Navigator +Bound for the Holy Land,' about the glassy sea; +and she said it was near as pretty reading as +Spenser's 'Faery Queen'—a remark which, though it +showed some lack of spiritual discernment, was +something, in that it showed she was entertained. +The second was 'Heaven's Gate;' and when we +came to the place about the gate being in our own +heart,—'Great manors have answerable porches. +Heaven must needs be spacious, when a little star +fixed in a far lower orb exceeds the earth in quantity; +yet it hath a low gate, not a lofty coming in.' And +she said she had thought the Gate of Heaven +was only opened when we die, not here while we live, +and it was a strange thing to think on. The third +sermon was 'Semper Idem, the Immutable Mercy +of Jesus Christ,' and in that we did not read far; +for when she read 'the sun of divinity is the Scripture, +the sun of Scripture is the gospel, the sun of +the gospel is Jesus Christ. Nor is this the centre +of his word only, but of our rest. Thou hast made +us for thee, O Christ, and the heart is unquiet till it +rest in thee; seeking, we may find Him—he is +ready; finding, we may still seek Him; he is +infinite,'—her voice trembled, and with tears in her +eyes, she looked up and said, 'I suppose that is +what the other sermon means by <i>entering the Gate of +Heaven now</i>.' And I deem that a wise thing for a +child to say, brought up as she has been under the +very walls of Babylon. And the poor young +thing's ways pleased me so that I gave her the +three sermons to keep. And she promised to set +store by them, and treasure them in a cedarn box +she hath, together with some books by Dr. Taylor. +And although Dr. Taylor is an Arminian, I had not +the heart to cross the child. Especially as books +are not like us; they are none the worse for being +in bad company." +</p> + +<p> +But Roger made no comment. Only the next +Sunday, as we were walking home from church +together, he said sorrowfully— +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Olive, so ready to be pleased with everything +as she is, so pleased to please every one, so +sure to please, so true and generous, so ready to +believe good of every one; that she should be launched +into that false Court! I shall always dread to +hear any one say, 'To-morrow.' If we could only +have known, there were so many things one might +have said or have left unsaid. The last thing I said +to her seems to me now so harsh. She will always +think of us as rebuking her. And her last look was +a defiant little smile! If we could only know what +days, or what words, are to be the last. To-morrow," +he added, "she was to have met us at the old +well, and now she is at the king's Court; and +between us lies a great gulf of civil war; and the +whole country in such tumult, it seems a kind of +disloyalty to England to think of our own private +sorrows." +</p> + +<p> +And Roger spoke but too truly. For it is impossible +to say how deeply that act of the king's in +invading the Parliament had incensed the whole +nation. It showed, as nothing else could have done, +my Father said, that what was holy ground to the +nation was mere common soil to the king. Men +had borne to have soldiers illegally billeted on their +homes; fathers torn, against law, from their families, +and left to die in prisons. Each such act of +tyranny was exceptional or partial, and might be +redressed by patient appeals to our ancient laws. +Much of personal liberty might be sacrificed rather +than violate the order on which all true liberty is +based. But the Parliament House during the sitting +of the Parliament was the sacred hearth of the +nation itself. Every man felt his own hearth +violated in its violation. Henceforth nothing was +sacred, nothing was safe, throughout the land. And +from that day, my Father, dreading civil war as +only a soldier can who knows what the terrors of +war are, never seemed to have a doubt that it must +come. Nor, candid as he was, to the verge of +weakness (as Aunt Dorothy thought), in his anxiety to +allow what was just to all sides, did he ever seem +after that to doubt, if the strife came, on which side +he must stand. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There was a strange mixture of rigid adherences +to ancient forms, with the boldest spirit of liberty, +in that scene in Parliament on the 3rd of January +1642. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Antony wrote us how all the members rose +uncovered before the king, how the speaker on his +knee beside his own chair, which the king had +usurped, refused to answer His Majesty's questions +as to the absence of the five members, whom his +eye vainly sought in their vacant places, saying: +"Please your Majesty, I have neither eyes to see, +nor ears to hear, nor tongue to speak in this place, +save as the House directs me." "Words," wrote +Dr. Antony, "respectful enough for a courtier of +Nebuchadnezzar, with a meaning as kingly as those +of any Cæsar. Not a disrespectful word or gesture +was directed against the king as he retired baffled +from the House, saying, that he saw the birds had +flown, and protesting that he had intended no +breach of privilege. But before he descended the +steps of the Hall to rejoin the armed guard outside, +the civil war, my Father said, had begun." +</p> + +<p> +The next day the king had returned baffled from +another attempt to arrest the five members in the +city. The aldermen, true representatives of the +great merchants of England, were as resolute as the +Parliament. They made His Majesty a great feast, +but no concessions. +</p> + +<p> +Within a week a thousand seamen from the good +ships in the broad Thames had offered their services +to guard the Parliament from their refuge in the +city by water to Westminster, and as many 'prentices +had entreated to be permitted to render a similar +service by land; four thousand freeholders from +Buckinghamshire (Hampden's county) had entered +London on horseback with petitions against wicked +councillors, and (on the 10th of January) the king +had left Whitehall for Hampden Court. +</p> + +<p> +But no man knew he would not return thither +until seven years later, on another January day, +never to leave it more. +</p> + +<p> +So few last days come to us clothed in mourning +announcing themselves as the last. We step smiling +into the ferry-boat which is to carry us for a +little while, as we think, across the narrow stream, +and wave our hands and say to those who watch +us from the familiar shore, "<i>To-morrow!</i>" and before +we are aware the stream is a sea, the ferry-boat +is the boat of Charon, the familiar shore is out of +sight; the window of the Banquetting house has +become the threshold of the scaffold, and to-morrow +is eternity. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII. +</h3> + +<p> +When I think of the months which passed +between the king's attempted arrest of +the five members and the first battle of +the Civil War, I sometimes wonder how +any one can ever undertake to write history. +</p> + +<p> +In the little bit of the world known to us, parties +were so strangely intertwined, so strangely divided, +and so heterogeneously composed. The motives +that drew men to one side or the other were so +various and so mixed, that I think scarce one of +those we knew fought on the same side for the same +reason; while the differences which separated many +men in the same party were certainly wider in many +respects than those which separated them from +others against whom they fought. +</p> + +<p> +How world-wide the difference between Harry +Davenant and Sir Launcelot Trevor! How nicely +balanced the scales that made my Father and John +Hampden "rebels," and Harry Davenant or Lord +Falkland "malignants!" +</p> + +<p> +Yet the distinctions were real, at least so it seems +to me. Nor do I see how, if all were to be again +starting from the same point, either could avoid coming +to the same issue. +</p> + +<p> +Harry Davenant believed revolution to be ruin, +and chose the most arbitrary rule instead. +</p> + +<p> +My Father, equally dreading revolution, believed +the king to be the great revolutionist; by his +arbitrary will changing times and laws; by his hopeless +untruth subverting the foundations of society. +Slowly he stepped down into the cold bitter waters +of civil war, having for his watch-word, "Loyalty +to England and her laws!" His chief hope lay in +Mr. Hampden. +</p> + +<p> +Roger again, and others like him, hoping more +from liberty than he feared from revolution, and +believing the contest would be fiery, but brief and +decisive, plunged gallantly into the flood, with +Liberty blazoned on their banners; liberty to do right +and to speak the truth. His chosen captain was +Mr. Cromwell, in whose troop he served from +the first. God only knew the bitter pang it cost +him (I knew it not till years afterwards) to take +his post on the field which must, he knew, make so +great a gulf between him and the Davenants. It +was seldom Roger spoke of what he felt; scarce +ever of what he suffered. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Antony wrote, meanwhile, from London:— +</p> + +<p> +"Chirurgeons, like women, have indeed their +place on the battle-field, and not out of reach of the +danger. But their work is with the wounded, and +their weapons are turned against the enemy of all; +the 'last enemy,' scarce to be destroyed in this war! +I hope to succour on the battle-field those I sought +to comfort in the prisons. God grant I find the air +of the field as wholesome to the spirits of my patients +as that of the dungeon." +</p> + +<p> +Job Forster never hesitated for a moment as to +which was the right side. To him England was in +one sense Canaan to be conquered, in another the +Chosen Land to be kept sacred. The king was Saul; +or, in other aspects, Sihon king of the Amorites, or +Og king of Bashan. The Parliament, at first, and then +the Lord Protector and the army, were the chosen +people, Moses, Joshua, David. His only hesitation +was whether he himself ought to fight on the field, +or to work at the forge and protect Rachel and the +village at home. "The Almighty," he said, "has +not given me this big body of mine for nought. God +forbid it should be said of Job Forster, Why abodest +thou amidst the sheep-folds to hear the bleatings of +the flocks?—that is, the ring of the hammer and +anvil, which is as the bleating of my flocks to me. +Yet there is Rachel! And the old law was merciful; +and if it forbid a man to leave his new-married +wife, how should I answer for leaving her who has +more need of me, and has none but me? and she so +ailing, and I, to whom the Lord has said as plain +as words can speak, 'Be thou better to her than ten +sons." +</p> + +<p> +It was perhaps the first perplexity he had never +confided to her, and sorely was Job exercised, until +one morning in August he came to my Father with +a lightened countenance, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Drayton, she has given the word, as plain as +ever Deborah spoke to Barak. I've got my +commission, and I'm ready to go this night." +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards, in an intimate talk by a camp-fire, +he once told Roger how that morning, between the +lights, he woke up and saw her kneeling down +with her arms crossed upon the Book, and her eyes +raised up to heaven, and running fast with tears. +"I lifted myself," he said, "on my elbow, and +I looked at her. But I didn't like to speak; I +saw there was something going on between her +soul and the Lord. And last she rose and came to +me with a face as pale as the sheet, but without a +tear in her eyes or a tremble in her voice, and she +said, 'Job, thou shalt have thy way; the Lord has +made me ready to give thee up.' And I said, +sheepish-like, 'How canst thee know what I willed? +I never said aught to thee!' Then she smiled and +said, 'Thee never thinks thee says aught except +thee speaks plain enough for the town-crier. Have +not I heard thy sighs, and seen thy hankering looks +whenever any of the lads listed these weeks past? +But I could not speak before; now I can. For I've +gotten the word from the Lord for thee and for me, +and woe is me if I hold my peace.' The word for +me was: 'Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing +thou hast not withheld thy son, thy only son, +from me.' 'And that,' said she, 'means thee, Job; +for thou are more to me than that,' said she, 'more +than that, only and all. I have no promise to hold +thee by, like Abraham had for Isaac, yet if the Lord +calls, what can I do?' And there her voice gave +way, but she hurried on—'And I've gotten a word +for thee, "<i>Have not I commanded thee?</i> Be strong +and of a good courage, for the Lord thy God is with +thee wheresoever thou goest."' "So," concluded +Job, "I got my word of command; and there was no +more to be said. We knelt down together and +gave ourselves up; and as soon as it was fairly day +I came to give in my name." +</p> + +<p> +That was Job Forster's motive. He believed he +had the word of command direct from the King of +kings. And this was the motive, I believe, of +hundreds and thousand more or less like him; men +who, as the Lord Protector said when the strife was +over, were "never beaten." Gloriously distinct +the two armies and the two causes seemed to him, +perplexed by no subtle perceptions of right on the +wrong side, or of wrong on the right. +</p> + +<p> +To Aunt Dorothy also matters were equally +clear, although her point of view was not precisely +the same, and in the subsequent subdivisions she +and Job became seriously opposed. Aunt Dorothy +believed that she saw in the New Testament a +model of church ritual and government, minutely +defined to the last stave or pin or loop of the +tabernacle; and rather that abandon the minutest of +these sacred details she would willingly have +suffered any temporal loss. The whole Presbyterian +order of church government she saw clearly unfolded +in the Acts and the Epistles; and that godly men +like Mr. Cromwell on the other hand, or learned men +like Dr. Jeremy Taylor on the other, should fail to +see it also, was a miracle only to be accounted for by +the blinding power of Satan, especially predicted in +these last days. With regard to the Government +of the State also, her belief was equally definite, +derived, as she considered, from the same Divine +source. The king was "the anointed of the Lord." In +this, she said, Lady Lucy had undoubted insight +into the truth. His wicked councillors might be +put to death, as traitors at once against him and the +realm; armies might by his Parliament be raised +against him; but it must be in his name, with the +purpose of setting him free from those evil +councillors by whom he was virtually kept a prisoner; +his judgment being by them enthralled, so that he +was irresponsible for his acts, and might quite +lawfully by his faithful covenanted subjects be placed, +respectfully, under bodily restraint, if thereby his +mind might be disenthralled from the hard bondage +of the wicked. But beyond this no subject might +go. The king's person was sacred; no profane +hand could be lifted with impunity against him. +Any difficulty, disorder, or evil, must be endured, +rather than touch a hair of the consecrated head. +This also was a conviction for which Aunt Dorothy +was fully prepared to encounter any amount of +contradiction or disaster. The narrow ridge on which +she walked erect, without wavering or misgiving, +was, she was persuaded, marked out as manifestly +as the path of the Israelites through the Red Sea +by the wall of impassable waters on either hand, +by the pillar of cloud and fire behind. To this +narrow way she would have allured, led, or if needful +compelled every human soul, for their good, and the +glory of God. No vicissitudes of fortune affected +her convictions; the sorrows of all who deviated +from this narrow path being, in her belief, from the +Sword of the Avenger, while the sorrows of those +who kept to it were from the Rod of the Comforter. +My Father's adherence to very much the same +course of conduct, from a belief of its expediency, +and Aunt Gretel's from the tenderness of sympathy +which inevitably drew her to the side on which +there was the most suffering, seemed to Aunt +Dorothy happy accidents, or special and uncovenanted +mercies, singularly vouchsafed to persons of their +uncertain and indefinite opinions. Not that Aunt +Dorothy's nature was in any way vulgar, small, and +narrow. Her heart was deep and high, if not always +wide. To her convictions she would have sacrificed +first herself, then the universe. Her convenience she +would have sacrificed to the comfort of the meanest +human being in the universe. She would not have +swerved from her ridge of orthodoxy for the dearest +love on earth. She would have stooped from it +to save or help the most degraded wanderer, or her +greatest enemy. +</p> + +<p> +But the most dangerous conviction she held was +unfortunately one of the deepest. It was that of +her own practical infallibility. It was strange that, +with the profoundest and most practical convictions +of her own sinfulness, she never could learn the +impossibility that all error should be removed whilst +any sin remains; that there should be no darkness +in the mind while there is so much in the heart. +Strange, but not uncommon. Her sin she acknowledged +as her own. Her creed she identified entirely +with the Holy Scriptures. It was not her own, she +said, it was God's truth to the minutest point, and, +as such, she would have suffered or fought for every +clause. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, with advancing years Roger and I +grew into a deeper reverence for her character. If +in our childhood she represented to us Justice with +the sword and scales (often in our belief very +effectually blindfolded), whilst Aunt Gretel enacted +counteracting Mercy; in after years we grew rather +to look on them as Truth and Tenderness, acting +not counter to each other, but in combination. And +in this imperfect world, where truth and love are +never blended in perfect proportions in any one +character, it is difficult to say on which we leant the +most. It was strange to see how often their +opposite attributes led them to the same actions. +"Speaking the truth in love," was Aunt Dorothy's +maxim; and if the love were sometimes lost in the +emphasis on truth, neither truth nor love were ever +sacrificed to selfish interest. "First pure then +peaceable" was her wisdom; and I cannot say she always +got as far as the "gentle, and easy to be entreated." But +it is something to be able to look back on a life +like hers, unprofaned by one stain of untruthfulness, +or by one low or petty aim. It is only in looking +back that we learn what a rock of strength she was +to us all, or how the tenderest memories of home +often cling like mosses around such rocks; the +more closely, sometimes, for their very ruggedness. +Thus our home at Netherby contained various +elements ecclesiastical and political as well as moral, +all of which, however, at the commencement of +the civil wars were gathered together under the +watchword, "Loyalty above all to the King of +kings. Liberty to obey God." +</p> + +<p> +It was this indeed, that, with all our internal +differences as to church government and secular +government, united us into one party. Whatever +varieties of opinion as to church government our +party contained: Presbyterian, Independent, Moderate +Episcopal, or Quaker; classical, republican, +aristocratic, English constitutional, or, finally, the +adherents of the Deliverer, chosen (they deemed) +as divinely and to be obeyed as implicitly as any +Hebrew judge—all believed in the theocracy. +</p> + +<p> +The liberty our party contended for was no mere +unloosing of bonds. It was liberty to obey the +highest law. It was no mere levelling to clear an +empty space for new experiments. It was sweeping +away ruins to clear a platform for the kingdom of +God. +</p> + +<p> +And this was another point in which the recollections +of my life make me feel how vast and complicated +an undertaking it must be to write history. +</p> + +<p> +In our early days we used to be given histories +of the Church and histories of the world. Profane +histories and sacred histories as neatly and definitely +separated as if the Church and the world had +been two distinct planets. +</p> + +<p> +But in our own times, at least, it seems to me +absolutely impossible thus to separate them. The +Battle of Dunbar was to Oliver Cromwell and his +army as religious an act as their prayer-meeting at +Windsor. The righting the poor folks who lost +their rights on the Soke of Somersham was, I +believe, as religious an act to Mr. Cromwell as the +appointment of the gospel-lectures. And as with the +actions so with the persons. Who can say which +persons of our time belong to ecclesiastical and +which to secular history? +</p> + +<p> +Does the history of the Convocation, of the +Star-Chamber, or of the Westminster Assembly, belong +to sacred history; and the history of the Long +Parliament, where decisions were made for time and +eternity, or of the battle-fields whence thousands +went to their last account, to profane? Is the +making of confessions of faith a religious act, and +the living by them or dying for them secular? Are +Archbishop Laud, Bishop Williams, Mr. Baxter, +Dr. Owen, Mr. Howe, ecclesiastical persons; and +Lord Falkland, Mr. Hampden, Mr. Pym, or Oliver +Cromwell, secular? +</p> + +<p> +In our times, as in my own life, it seems to me +absolutely impossible to say where sacred history +begins and where the profane ends. +</p> + +<p> +My consolation is that it seems to me much the +same in the Holy Scriptures. We call Genesis sacred +history; and what is it, chiefly, but a story of +family life? What is Exodus but a record of +national deliverances? What are the Chronicles and +Kings but histories of wars and sieges, interspersed +with pathetic family stories? What, indeed, are +the gospels themselves but the record, not of creeds +or ecclesiastical conflicts, but of a life, the Life, +coming in contact with every form of sickness, and +sin, and sorrow in this our common everyday +human life? What would the gospels be with +nothing but the Sabbaths and the synagogues, and the +Sanhedrim, and the Scribes and Pharisees left in +them? With the widow's only son left out of them, +and the ruler's little daughter, and the woman who +was a sinner, and the five thousand fed on the grassy +slopes of Galilee, and the one young man who +departed sorrowful 'for he had great possessions?' Would +it have been more truly Church history for +being the less human history? +</p> + +<p> +The Bible history seems to me to be a history of +all human life in relation to God. The sins of the +Bible are terribly manifest, secular sins; injustice, +impurity, covetousness, cruelty. Its virtues are +simple homely, positive virtues; truth, uprightness, +kindness, mercy, gratitude, courage, gentleness; +such sins and virtues as make the weal or woe of +nations and of homes. Ordinary ecclesiastical +history seems to me too often a record of secular +struggles for consecrated things, and names, and places, +and of selfish strivings for which shall be greatest. +The sins it blames, too often mere transgressions of +rules, mistakes as to religious terms, neglect of the +tithe of mint, anise, and cummin. The virtues it +commends, alas! too often negative renunciations +of certain indulgences, scruples as to certain +observances, fasting twice in the week; things which, +done or undone, leave the heart the same. +</p> + +<p> +But underneath all this a Church history like that +of the Bible is being silently lived on earth, is being +silently written in heaven. Little glimpses of it we +see here from time to time. What will it be when +we see it all? +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +All through that summer the country was astir +with the enlistings for the king and the Parliament. +</p> + +<p> +These began about April. +</p> + +<p> +On the 23d of February, Queen Henrietta Maria +had embarked at Dover for the Low Countries, with +the Princess Mary and the crown jewels. +</p> + +<p> +From the time that she was in safety the king's +tone to the Parliament began (it was thought) to +change. Always chivalrously regardful of her, and +in different to danger for himself (for none of his +father's timidity could ever be charged to him), he +began to give more open answers to the popular +demands. He hoped also, it was said, much from +the queen's eloquence and exertions in his cause on +the Continent. It was his misfortune, my Father +said, that any favourable turn in his affairs made +him unyielding; and thus it happened that he only +came to terms when his cause was at the worst, so +that his treaties had the double disadvantage of +being made under the most adverse circumstances, +and with men who knew from repeated experience +that not one of his most sacred promises would be +kept if he could help it. Such virtues as he +possessed seemed always to come into action at the +wrong moment; his courage when it could only +kindle irritation; his graciousness when it could +only inspire contempt. +</p> + +<p> +The queen being safely out of the country, and +the king safely out of the capital, from his refuge +at York came the renewal of the old irritating +demand for tonnage and poundage, rooting the +opposition firmer than ever in the irrevocable distrust +of the royal word. +</p> + +<p> +The demand of the king for the old usurpations +was met by the assertion of the Parliament of old +rights, with the demand for new powers to secure +these; by the assertion of the power of the purse, +and the demand for power over the militia. +</p> + +<p> +But to us women at Netherby all these negotiations +and fencings between the king and the Parliament +sounded so much like what had gone on for +so long, everything was couched in such orderly +and constitutional language, that it was difficult to +think anything more than Protestations, Remonstrances, +Breach of Privilege, and Protests for +Privilege, would ever come of it. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that roused me to the sense that +it might end not in words but in battles, was the +news that reached us one April evening that the +king had gone in person with three hundred horsemen +to the gates of Hull, and had summoned Sir +John Hotham to surrender the city; that Sir John +had refused to surrender or to admit the king's +troops (offering all loyal courtesy at the same time +to the king himself); that the king and his three +hundred had thereon gone off baffled to Beverly, +and there proclaimed Sir John Hotham a traitor. +</p> + +<p> +That night I said to Aunt Gretel,— +</p> + +<p> +"This seems to me altogether to introduce a new +set of terms and things. Instead of Protestations +and Remonstrances, we hear of Summonses and +Surrenders. The king and his cavaliers repulsed +from the closed gates of one of his own cities! +Aunt Gretel, these are new words to us; does not +this look like war?" +</p> + +<p> +And she replied, in a tremulous voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"Alas, sweet heart, these are no new words to +me. Your people seem to arrange many things +others fight about, by talking about them. And it +is difficult for me to say what words mean with +you. But these words are indeed terribly familiar +to me. And in my country they would certainly +mean war." +</p> + +<p> +And that night I well remember the perplexity +that crossed my prayers, whether in praying as +usual for the king I might not be praying against +the Parliament, and against my Father and Roger, +and the nation; until after debating the matter in +my own mind for some time, I came to the conclusion +that on whatever dark mountains scattered, +and by whatever deep waters divided, to Him +there is still "One flock, one Shepherd," and that +however ill I knew how to ask, He knew well what +to give. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE DAVENANT'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +(<i>From another source.</i>) +</p> + +<p> +"<i>York</i>, <i>April</i>, 1642.—It has actually begun at last. +The rebellion has begun. Sir John Hotham (Sir I +hesitate to call him, for what knight is worthy the +name who turns his disloyal sword against the very +Fountain of knighthood and of all honor?) has closed +the gates of Hull against the summons—against the +very voice and person of His Sacred Majesty. At +once the king withdrew to Beverley, and under the +shadow of the grand old Minster proclaimed the +false knight a traitor. +</p> + +<p> +"The rebellion has begun, but every one says it +cannot last long. Next Christmas at latest must +see us all at peace again; the nation once more at +the feet of the king. My Mother says like a prodigal +child; Sir Launcelot says like a beaten hound. +Mobs, says he, like dogs, can only learn to obey by +being suffered to rebel a little, and then being whipped +for it. (I like not well this talk of Sir Launcelot. +If the nation is like a hound, at what point +in the nation does the dog-nature begin, and the +human end?) Speaking so, I told him, we might +include ourselves. But he laughed, and said, such +discerning of spirits required no miraculous gift. +Moreover, he said, the king himself had once +compared the Parliaments to 'cats, to be tamed when +young but cursed when old;' and had called his +sailors in the Thames who offered to guard the +Parliament 'water-rats.' If the king said so, I confess +I think His Majesty might have chosen more courtly +similes. But I do not believe he did. I will +never believe any evil of His Majesty, whoever says +it, scarcely if I were to see it myself, for my eye? +might be deceived. +</p> + +<p> +"Only I should be sorely vexed if they heard +these things at Netherby; because they never said +rough things of any one. Especially now I am not +there to explain things. For I am not allowed to +write to them, nor to see them again, until things +are right again in the country; which makes me +write this. +</p> + +<p> +"However, it cannot last long. Every one here +agrees in that. Every one except Harry, whom we +call 'Il Penseroso.' He sees such a long way, and +on so many sides, or at least he tries to do so; and +he talks of the Wars of the Roses, and the Wars +in Germany; as if there were any resemblance! In +Germany there were kings and states opposed. In +the Wars of the Roses royal persons, with some +kind of claim to reign. But this is nothing but flat +rebellion. The family against the father; sworn +liegemen against their sovereign lord; the body +against the head. And how can any one think for +a moment there can be any end to it but one, and +that soon? Yes; at Christmas, I trust, we Davenants +shall be at the Hall again, and the Draytons +at Netherby, looking back to the end of this frantic +and unnatural outbreak. +</p> + +<p> +"And I mean to be most generous to them all +about it. I do not mean even to say, 'I always told +you how it would end.' They will see, and that +will be enough. The king will forgive every one, +I am sure, he is so gracious and gentle—(he spoke +to me like a father the other day, and yet with such +knightly deference!)—except, perhaps, a very few, +who will have to be made examples of, unless they +make examples of themselves by running out of +the country, which I hope they may. For having +once re-asserted his rightful authority, the king will +be able to be forgiving without being suspected of +weakness. There need not be any more poor mistaken +people set in the pillory, which really seems +to do no one any good, as far as I can see, and to +make every one so exceedingly angry. The Puritans +(that is, those among them who have any +sense) will see that it really can make no difference +whether the clergyman says the prayers in a white +dress or a black. Perhaps even the bishops and +archbishops might own the same. Because, although +it cannot be good management to give a +naughty child its way for crying, if it stops crying +and is good, it is quite another thing. +</p> + +<p> +"And then everything would go on delightfully. +The very troublesome and obstinate people (on both +sides, I think) might, perhaps, all go to America, +some to the north and some to the south. For the +American plantations are very wide, they say, and +by the time they met—say in one or two hundred +years—their great-great grandchildren might have +given up caring so much about the colours of the +vestments and the titles of the clergymen who do +the services in the church. So that by that time +everything would go on delightfully in America as +well as in England. And by next Christmas, from +what the gentlemen and ladies about here say, I +should think this might all have begun. Only just +now this little unpleasant contest has to be gone +through first. And I am very much afraid as to +what Mr. Drayton and Roger may do, or even +Olive. They are so terribly conscientious. They +will pick up the smallest questions with their +consciences instead of with their common sense; which +seems to me like watering a daisy with a fire-engine, +or weeding a flower-bed with a plough. Mistress +Dorothy is the worst of them (dear, kind, old soul, +I must now and then look at her sermons, in order +to make it quite clear to myself I was not a hypocrite +in listening to them all that time). But I do +not think any of them are quite safe in this way. +And yet I know, in my inmost heart, they are better +than any one in the world, except my Mother, and +perhaps Harry. (Of His Majesty it is not for me +to speak.) And I love them better than any one in +the world, which, I am afraid, they will not believe, +now I am not allowed to write to them. I love +them for their noble perverseness, and their heroic +conscientiousness, and their terrible truthfulness, +and everything that separates us. And these last +months at home have been the happiest of my life. +I felt growing quite good. And one thing I have +resolved. I will not say one word I should mind +their hearing, so that when we meet again I may +have nothing to explain or to unsay. For it is only +misunderstanding that will ever make any of them +take the wrong side; nothing but misunderstanding. +And facts will set that all right when they +see how things really are. As they will, I trust, +before Christmas. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not so easy to be good here as at Netherby. +People say so many pretty things to me. My +Mother says I must not heed them; they are only +Court ways of speaking, which mean nothing; and +that rightly used, I might even make them means of +mortification, saying every time I hear such pretty +phrases, as good Dr. Taylor recommended, 'My +beauty is in colour inferior to many flowers; and +even a dog hath parts as well proportioned to the +designs of his nature as I have; and three fits of +an ague can change it into yellowness and leanness, +and to hollowness and wrinkles of deformity.' But +this I find not so easy. If I were a rose, I should +be pleased at being a rose, and at being thought +sweet and fair. And even a well-favoured dog, +meseems, has some harmless delight in his good +looks. And as to the ague, I see no likelihood of +it. And as to becoming yellow and lean, the more +I think of it, the gladder I am to think I am not. +And yet there is some little flutter in my pleasure +at these fair speeches which hardly seems to me quite +altogether good. And I do not think my Mother +quite knows what nonsense these young Cavaliers +talk. Perhaps no one did ever talk nonsense to +her. Or, if they did, I am sure she never liked it. +And I am afraid I do sometimes a little. Else, why +should it all come back into my mind at wrong +times?—in the Minster or at prayers. Heigh, ho! +I wish I was at Netherby. No one ever called me +fair enchantress there, or my cheeks Aurora's +rose-garden, or my teeth strings of pearls, or my hands +lilies, or my hair imprisoned sunbeams, or my voice +the music of the spheres. Sir Launcelot talked +enough of that kind of poetry to me, between +Netherby and Windsor, to make a book of ballads. +(For my Mother was in the sedan-chair, whilst I +rode most of the way with Sir Launcelot.) And yet, +I think, there is more honour in Roger Drayton's +telling me in his straight-forward way he thought +me wrong, as he so often did, than in all Sir +Launcelot's most honeyed compliments. +</p> + +<p> +"Not that I think Olive just to poor Sir Launcelot. +If she could have seen his debonair and courteous +ways to every clown and poor wench we met, +and how he flung his crowns and angels to any +beggar, she must have felt there is much kindliness +in him, with all his wild ways. +</p> + +<p> +"And when he saw I liked not so many fair +speeches, he gave them up in a measure. I must +say that for him; and he has been as deferential to +me ever since at the Court, as if I were one of the +princesses. Only I wish he would not always see +when I drop my glove or my posy: at least, I think +I do. Yet it is rather pleasant, too, at times to feel +there is some one who cares about one among so +many strange people, and some one who is always +ready to talk about poor old Netherby, and who +honours the Draytons, moreover, so generously. I +wish Olive knew this. +</p> + +<p> +"And I wish I were like my Mother, and had 'a +chapel built in my heart.' Or else that I could live +at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot admires the 'beauty of holiness' +in my Mother. He says, in all times, happily, there +have been these sweet exalted Saints, especially +among women, bright particular stars, celestial +beauties, and princesses, that all men must revere. +Quite another kind of thing, he says, from the +Puritan notion of calling all men to be 'saints,' or +else consigning them to reprobation as among the +wicked. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Note</i>.—I am at a loss what to call this writing of +mine. It is scarcely a Diary or Journal, for I certainly +shall not do anything as regular as write in it every +day. It shall not be 'Annals;' for I hope to have +done with it before Christmas, when I shall have +met Olive and all of them again at home. 'Chronicles' +are more solemn still. 'Thoughts?' where +shall I find them? 'Facts?' how is one to know +them, when people give such different accounts of +things? 'Meditations?' worse again. 'Religious +Journals,' 'Confessions,' etc., always puzzled me. +I could never make out for whom they were written. +Especially the prayers I have seen written out at +length in them. They cannot be meant for other +people to read. That would be turning the 'closet' +into 'the corners of the street.' They cannot be +meant for the people themselves to read. For what +good could that do? It would not be praying to +see how I prayed some years since. They cannot +surely be meant for God to read. He is always +near, and can hear, or read our hearts, which is +quite another thing from reading our Diaries. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>May</i> 30, <i>York</i>.—The birds begin to sing in the +trees around the Minster. Our lodging is opposite. +And the courtiers begin to gather once more around +the king. Many lords have come these last days +from London, with some faithful members of the +Commons' House, and old Lord Littleton has come, +with somewhat limping loyalty, they say, after the +Great Seal, now in the right hand. So that this +grave old town begins to look gay. Cavaliers +caracolling about the streets, doffing their hats to fair +faces in the windows. Troops mustering but slowly; +somewhat slowly. Nor can I make out if these +townspeople altogether like us and our ways. There +are so many Puritans among these traders. And +Sir Launcelot says they have great sport in the +Puritan household where he is quartered, in making +the Puritan lads learn the 'Distracted Puritan,' and +other roystering Cavalier songs, and drink +confusion to the Covenant; and in making the host and +hostess bring out their best conserves, linen and +plate, for the use of the men. Sir Launcelot told +them, he said, that they should only look on it as +the payment of an old debt the children of Israel +had owed to the Egyptians these three thousand +years. I do not think such jokes good manners +in any other person's house, and I told him so. +But he said their ridiculous gravity makes the +temptation too strong to be resisted. If they +would jest good-humouredly in return, he said, they +would soon understand each other. But would +they? I am not quite sure how Sir Launcelot +enjoys not having the best of a joke. And I could +not bear his calling the Puritans all canting, or +ridiculous. He knows better. And I told him so. I felt +quite indignant, and the tears were in my eyes (for +I thought of them all at Netherby). He seemed +penitent. Indeed, I hope it did him good. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i>.—The Parliament are growing more insolent +every day; they dared to say in one of their +ridiculous Remonstrances that 'the king is for the +kingdom, not the kingdom for the king, that +even the crown jewels are not His Majesty's +own, but given him in trust for the regal +power.' However, they will soon learn their mistake about +that, for the crown-jewels are safe in Holland, and +have there purchased for the Crown good store of +arms and ammunition. These were all embarked +in a Dutch ship called the <i>Providence</i>. A great +Providence, my Mother says, attended her. For +although she was wrecked on the coast of Yorkshire, +nevertheless, all her stores have this day been +safely brought into York. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we shall see what gentlemen can do against +tapsters, and tailors' and haberdashers' 'prentices, +such as make up the wretched army they have been +mustering in London! The citizens' wives actually +brought their thimbles and bodkins, it is said, to +pay the men; to such mean and ludicrous straits +are they reduced. The Cavaliers call it 'the +Thimble and Bodkin Army.' +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 20.—Sir John Hotham is said to be wavering +back to loyalty. A day or two since, a gallant +little army of four thousand men rode forth hence +through the Mickle Bar, to demand the surrender +of that presumptuous city, Hull, and if refused, to +storm it. Better they had listened to His Majesty's +gentle summons with his three hundred. How +gallant and brave they looked. Plumed helmets +gleaming swords flashing, pennons flying, horses +looking as proud of the cause as the riders. Not a +cavalier among them who would not face battle as +gayly as the hunting-field. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 22.—Those treacherous townspeople! Not +a troop of them is to be relied on. Our gallant +Cavaliers came back in disorder. And all because +of the faithless train-bands, and those turbulent +citizens of Hull. Lord Lindsay, with three thousand +men, was at Beverley, and on the lighting of a fire +on Beverley Minster, the gates of Hull were to be +opened by some loyal men inside. But five hundred +rebels within the town, hearing too soon of the +intention of these loyal men, made a sortie under the +command of Sir John Hotham. The true Cavaliers +would have stood firm, every one says, but the +Yorkshire train-bands would not draw sword +against their neighbours, but ran away to Beverley, +and so the whole ended in disgrace and defeat. If +we could only have an army entirely composed of +gentlemen, and their sons, and retainers, the +Parliament could not stand a day. But the worst news +that has reached us lately, is the treachery of the +Earl of Warwick and the navy. They have all +gone over to the Parliament, in spite of the king's +offering them better pay than they ever received +before. Five ships stood firm at first, but the rest +overpowered them. I hope no one ever told them +about their being called 'water-rats,' but there are +always some malicious people who delight to make +mischief by telling tales. I should think royal +persons ought to be very careful about their jests. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i>.—We are on the point of leaving York +to spend a few days at Nottingham, where the +king's standard is to be set up. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sorry to leave this old town. I miss the +pleasant walks at home. For here one dare scarce +venture much out of doors. If the Cavaliers are as +dangerous to their enemies as they are sometimes to +their friends, the Parliament has good cause to +tremble. The streets echo dismally at night with +the shouts of drunken revelry. But, I suppose, all +armies are alike. Only it is rather unfortunate for +us that gravity and the show of piety being the +badge of the Puritans, levity and a reckless dashing +carriage are taken up as their badge by many of +the young Cavaliers. +</p> + +<p> +"I would they took example by the king. His +Majesty has been riding around the country lately +himself, calling his lieges to follow him. And his +majestic courtesy and grace, with his loving and +winning speeches, such as he made at Newark and +Lincoln, showing his good intentions and desires +for their liberty and welfare, must, I am sure, be +worth him a mint of such money as the London +citizens can coin out of their thimbles and bodkins. +</p> + +<p> +"The North country is well disposed, they say; +and Lancashire, where the queen hath much hold on +the Catholic gentlemen of ancient lineage there; +and the West country, where brave Sir Bevil Granvill +lives, is full of loyalty. Mr. Hampden has +done mischief in Buckinghamshire, and Mr. Cromwell +(a brewer, Sir Launcelot says, rather than +a country-gentleman, though not of low parentage) +calls himself captain, and is disaffecting the +eastern counties, already disloyal enough, with their +French Huguenot weavers, and their 'Anabaptists, +Atheists, and Brownists,' as His Majesty calls +them. +</p> + +<p> +"The towns are the worst, however. I suppose +there is something in buying and selling, and +tinkering and tailoring, which makes people think more +of mean money considerations, than of loyalty and +honour. Then there are so many Puritans in the +town. Perhaps the narrow dark high streets make +them naturally inclined to be gloomy and strait-laced. +I think, however, the less our Cavalier soldiers +are quartered in the towns, the better, till they +mend their manners. It may make the citizens less +pleased than ever with the Book of Sports. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nottingham, August</i> 23.—This evening the king +himself set up his standard on the top of the field +behind the castle. There was much sounding of +drums and trumpets. Several hundreds gathered +around the royal party, and we watched a little way +off. But, I know not how, the act did not seem as +solemn as the occasion. The night was stormy; +and the trumpets and drums, and then the voice of +the herald reading the royal proclamation, sounded +small and thin against the rush and howling of the +winds. The troops have not yet answered the +king's call as they should, and those present were +mostly the train-bands. Then His Majesty, on the +spot, made some alterations in the proclamation, +which perplexed the herald, so that he blundered +and stumbled in reading it. Altogether I wish I +had not been there. +</p> + +<p> +"The king's standard ought to be something +more than a pole no higher than a May-pole with +a few streamers, and a common flag at the top. +And the trumpets which are to rouse a nation, +ought to have a certain magnificence in them, +altogether different from the trumpets they blow at the +carols at Netherby at Christmas. I am sure I +cannot tell how. But I always pictured it so. The +words are grander than the things. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps all our pomps and solemnities look poor +and mean under the open sky. We had better keep +them beneath roofs of our own making. The pomps +we are used to under the open sky are the purple +and crimson and gold of sunset and sunrise, great +banners of storm-clouds flung across the sky. And +the solemnities are the thunders, and the mighty +winds, and the rushing of rivers, and the dashing +of seas. +</p> + +<p> +"The things are grander, infinitely, than any +words wherewith we can speak of them. +</p> + +<p> +"But when I said so to my Mother, she said, +'And yet, my child, one soul, and even one human +voice, is grander, or more godlike than all the +thunders. It is their significance, Lettice, which +gives the grandeur to any solemnities of ours. If +we heard those trumpets summon our countrymen +by thousands to the battle, or saw that flag borne +blood-stained from the field, we should not think +the voice of the trumpet wanted terrible magnificence, +or call the flag a common thing ever more.' +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps, after all, it was only a little inward +depression that made me feel this disappointment. +For only three days before, Coventry had shut her +gates in the king's face, and the Earl of Essex is at +hand, they say, with a great army, and so few flocking +loyally to the king. +</p> + +<p> +"But worst of all, I think, is this Prince Rupert. +His mother's name, Elizabeth of Bohemia, has been +like a sacred name in the country for years; a saint +and a heroine in courage and patience. But this +prince is so noisy and reckless, and takes so much +upon himself, that he angers the older gentlemen +and experienced soldiers sorely. My Father says +he is little better than a petulant boy. Yet he has +great weight with the king, his uncle, and takes the +command into his own hands; so that the gallant +old Earl of Lindsay deems his own command little +better than nominal. And, meanwhile, the younger +Cavaliers take their colour from him, and use that +new low cant word of his, 'plunder,' quite as a jest, +as if it meant some new sport or sword-exercise, +instead of meaning, as it does, scouring all over the +country, burning lonely farm-houses, robbing the +inmates, and sometimes hanging the servants at the +doors for refusing to betray their masters, sacking +villages, and I know not what other wickednesses. +In the fortnight he has been here, he has flown +through Worcestershire, Nottinghamshire, +Warwickshire, Leicestershire, and Cheshire. And not +a night but we have seen the sky aglow with the +fires of burning villages and homesteads. I should +fear to hear how the people along his line of march, +coming back to their ruined homes, speak of the +king. +</p> + +<p> +"Moreover, it is said, the rebel troops are strictly +forbidden to take anything without paying for it, +a contrast worth them much. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i> 24.—This morning, before I rose, my +Mother's waiting gentlewoman brought dismal +news. The royal standard, said she, has been blown +down in the night, and lies a wreck along the +hill. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother says it is heathenish to talk of +omens and auguries. And my Father says these +foreigners are the worst omen, and all would be +well enough if they would leave Englishmen to +fight out their own quarrels, like neighbours, who +exchange blows and are friends again, instead of +like wretched hired Lanzknechts or Free Companions. +</p> + +<p> +"But Sir Launcelot laughs, and says it is a good +thing to give the whining Puritans something to +cry for at last. And Harry sighs, and says he +supposes it is necessary to make the rebels see we are +in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +"Altogether, we do not seem in very good humour +with each other just now. However, a few +victories will no doubt set us all right again. There +can be no reasonable doubt that the king will bring +these rebels to their senses sooner or later; in a few +months at latest. +</p> + +<p> +"Only I had not understood at all how very +melancholy war is. I thought of it as concerning +no one but the soldiers. And men must incur +danger one way or another. And there is the glory, +and the excitement, and the exercise of noble +courage, making such men as nothing but such trials +can make. +</p> + +<p> +"But the battles seem but a small part of the +misery; the misery without glory to any one. +</p> + +<p> +"On our way hither from York, my Mother was +faint and tired, and we stopped at a little farm-house +with an orchard. It was evening, and the woman +had just finished milking the cows by the door, and +she gave my Mother a cup of new milk while she +rested on the settle in the clean little kitchen. +There were two little children playing about, and +the father was at work in the orchard, and one of +the children called him, and he brought my Father +a cup of cider. And there was a Bible on the +table with wood-cuts; and I found the eldest child +knew the meaning of them. He said his father had +told him. They were very kind and pleasant +to us. +</p> + +<p> +"And a few days since Harry told me they had +passed a little farm with an orchard, and the man +was surly and a Puritan, and refused to tell the way +some fugitives had fled; and Prince Rupert had +him hanged on his own threshold, and drove off +the cows for plunder. +</p> + +<p> +"And from what Harry says I feel sure it is the +same. +</p> + +<p> +"And I have scarcely slept since, thinking of +that poor man, and the silent voice that will never +any more explain the wood-cuts in the old Bible, +and the poor hands that will never show their +willing hospitality again. +</p> + +<p> +"But it is only one, Harry says, among hundreds; +and such things must be, and I must not think +of it. +</p> + +<p> +"But every one of the hundreds is just that terrible +only one, which leaves the world all lonely to +some poor mourner! +</p> + +<p> +"Those gentlemen in Parliament have dreadful +things to answer for. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did not Mr. Hampden pay a thousand +times his miserable ship-money rather than lead the +country on to such horrors? +</p> + +<p> +"For the king cannot have his commands +disobeyed. If he did, how could he be a king? +</p> + +<p> +"I do wish he could be more a king with his own +troops; I am sure he hates this ravaging and +marauding. But so many of the gentlemen serve, and, +indeed, keep their regiments at their own cost, +which makes them difficult to control. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>October</i>.—Prince Rupert has been driven from +Worcester. If it were only a lesson in reverence +and modesty for the prince, it would not so much +matter, some think, that he left twenty good and +true men dead there. The Earl of Essex occupies +the city. He has been there a fortnight doing +nothing. Some remnants of loyalty, we think, +hinder him from coming to open collision. But +what the use of collecting an army can be unless it +is to fight, it is hard to see. The truth is, perhaps, +that he begins to feel the peril of setting his +haberdashers and grocers' 'prentices, commanded by a +forsworn peer, against gentlemen's sons fighting +under their king! Meantime, our army is gathering +at last, and only too eager, they say, to give +the rebels a lesson. Once for all, God grant it be a +lesson once for all. Although the battles do not +seem to me half so dreadful as these 'plunderings.' But +perhaps that is because I never came near a +battle; nor, indeed, can the oldest man in England +remember any one that ever did on English soil." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE DRAYTON'S RECOLLECTIONS. +</p> + +<p> +All through the summer the armies were gathering. +In our seven eastern counties—Essex, Norfolk, +Suffolk, Cambridgeshire, Lincoln, Huntingdonshire, +and Hertfordshire—called the associated +counties, because bound by Mr. Hampden and +Mr. Cromwell into an association for mutual defence, the +King's Commission of Array and the Parliament's +Ordinance of Militia clashed less than elsewhere. +In August Mr. Cromwell seized a magazine of arms +and ammunition at Cambridge. The stronghold of +the Puritans was in these eastern regions; and +except where a few Royalist gentlemen, like the +Davenants, led off their retainers, the Parliament +had, amongst us, mostly its own way. All the +more reason, my Father said, for our men to risk +their persons, since our homes were safer than elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +My Father, from his old military experience, had +much to do with training and drilling the men. +Strange sounds of clanging arms and sharp words +of command echoed from the old court of the +Manor. Old arms, the very stories belonging to +which were well-nigh forgotten, were taken down; +arms which had hung on the walls of manor-house +and farm-house since the Wars of the Roses. The +newest weapon we had at Netherby which had +seen service in England was a short jewel-hilted +sword the Drayton of the day had worn at the +Battle of Bosworth Field, fighting, by a rare piece +of good luck for us, under Henry VII., on the winning +side. Since then the Reformation had revolutionized +the Church, and gunpowder had revolutionized +the art of war; so that instead of the sturdy +bow-men, each provided with his weapon and ready +trained to the use of it, whom his ancestors brought +to the field, my Father could only muster a few +labourers and servants, without weapons and without +training, with no further preparation for war +than hands used to labour, wits ready to learn, and +hearts ready to dare. +</p> + +<p> +My Father did not mean to lead his own men. +Having had experience of engineering in the +German wars, he was employed here and there as his +directions were needed. Roger and those who +went from Netherby served from the first with +Mr. Cromwell's Ironsides; my Father, as his contribution, +providing the armour, which, like that of +Haselrigge's Lobsters, was complete and costly. Other +bands passed and repassed often, and shared the +hospitalities of the Manor, to join Lord Brook's +purple-coats, Lord Say and Lord Mandeville's +bluecoats. Hollis' red-coats were London men, and +Mr. Hampden's green-coats all from his own county, +Buckinghamshire; while the badge of all was the +orange scarf round the arm—the family colours of +Lord Essex, the general. Each regiment had its +own motto—Hampden's, "<i>Vestigia nulla retrorsum</i>;" +Essex's (pointing many a cavalier jest, if seen in +plunder or retreat), "<i>Cave adsum</i>." On the reverse +of each banner was the common motto of all, "God +with us"—the watch-word of so many a battle. +</p> + +<p> +Money was not stinted; the city of London heading +the contributions in January with £50,000, and +the Merchants' Companies with nigh as large a sum +(then intended to avenge the Irish massacre); whilst +Mr. Hampden gave £1000, and his cousin, +Mr. Cromwell, £500. +</p> + +<p> +Women brought their rings and jewels; cherished +old family plate was not held back. We in our +sober Puritan household had few jewels to bring, +but such as we had were disinterred from their +caskets, and the few silver drinking-cups which +distinguished our table from any farmers round were +packed up by Aunt Dorothy's own hands, and +despatched to the London Guildhall, not without sighs, +but without hesitation, with all the money that +could be spared. +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Placidia also offered what she called her +"mite," when she heard that the poor citizens' +wives in London had even offered their thimbles +and bodkins. +</p> + +<p> +"I am but a poor parson's wife," said she, "but +I am thankful they will receive even such poor +offerings as I can bring." +</p> + +<p> +And she brought those embroidered Cordova +gloves, the search for which had so incensed Aunt +Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"It is remarkable," she observed, "that I always +said one never knew what use anything might be +in a poor parson's household; and now I have +found the use." +</p> + +<p> +"What use, my dear," said Aunt Dorothy; "do +you think the Parliament soldiers will fight in +embroidered gloves?" +</p> + +<p> +"Spanish leather is dear," replied Placidia, "and +things will always sell. It is only a poor mite I +know, but so is a thimble. The Parliament soldiers +cannot, of course, fight in thimbles any more than +in gloves, and the widow's mite was accepted." +</p> + +<p> +"A mite and the 'widow's mite,' are some way +apart, my dear," said Aunt Dorothy; "your 'widow's +mite,' I suppose, might be the parsonage and the +glebe, and those cows in your uncle's park and +meadow. Take care what you offer to the Lord. +He sometimes takes us at our word. And there are +plunderers abroad who take their own estimate of +people's mites, widows' and others." +</p> + +<p> +Said Placidia, never taken aback— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy, Mr. Nicholls and I regard the +glebe as a sacred trust, of which we feel we must +on no account relinquish the smallest fraction. And +as to the cows Uncle Drayton gave me, I wonder +you can suspect me of such ingratitude as to give +them up to any one." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not, my dear," said Aunt Dorothy, +quietly. "What shall I label your Cordova gloves? +A parson's mite? You know I cannot exactly say +'widow's.'" +</p> + +<p> +"An orphan's perhaps, Aunt Dorothy." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, my dear," said Aunt Dorothy; "I +should think that would affect the Parliament very +much. It may even get into history." +</p> + +<p> +With which this little passage at arms closed. +</p> + +<p> +Happily for the popular cause, the common +interpretation of acceptable 'mites' differed from +Placidia's, so that in a short time a considerable army +was levied. +</p> + +<p> +The navy ever remained true to the Parliament; +irritated, some foolish persons said, by a report that +the king had called them "water-rats." As well +say the whole Parliament stood firm, because the +king once compared them to cats. The navy had +its own watchwords, better pointed than by the +sting of a sorry jest. English seamen were not +likely to trust too implicitly to the promises of the +Sovereign who had tried to sell them to aid in the +destruction of the brave little band of beleaguered +Protestants at Rochelle. +</p> + +<p> +All through the summer the armies were being +levied, and the breach was silently widening. +</p> + +<p> +In July an incident showed, my Father said, as +much as anything could, how entirely the king's +mind was unchanged, and how "thorough" would +have been the tyranny established in his hands, +though Laud, and Strafford, and the Queen, and +every violent councillor, had been removed. My +old friend, Dr. Bastwick, the physician, was seized +by the royal forces at Worcester while engaged in +levying men for the Parliament, under Earl Stamford, +who retreated. It was with the greatest difficulty +that one of the judges restrained the king +from having him hanged on the spot although +there could be no reason why he should have been +sentenced with this exceptional severity except +the fact that he had already been scourged, +pilloried, and maimed by the cruelty of the Star-Chamber. +</p> + +<p> +The deep distrust which such indications of the +king's true mind produced, cost him more than +many lost battles. +</p> + +<p> +They tended to inspire such resistances as that +made a few weeks afterwards by the brave +commoners of Coventry, when, without garrison, +without engineers, with no defence but their feeble +ancient walls, they shut their gates in the Sovereign's +face, defied the royal forces, and when the breach +was made by artillery in the old tottering walls, +barricaded the streets with barrows and carts, made +a sally, carried the nearest lines, seized the guns, +and turned them against the besiegers, compelling +them at last to retire baffled. +</p> + +<p> +But it was Prince Rupert, "the Prince Robber," +who, perhaps, more than any, turned the hearts of +the people against the Sovereign who could use +such an instrument. Trained in the cruel school +of the Palatinate wars, he had read its terrible +lessons the wrong way; having learned from the +sufferings of his father's subjects not pity, but a +savage recklessness of suffering. He brought home to +hundreds of burning villages and plundered lonely +farms, which no Parliamentary remonstrances or +declarations would have reached, the conviction +that the king looked on his people, not as a flock, +but as mere live-stock on an estate, to be kept up if +profitable and manageable, and if not to be sacrificed +to any system of management which gave less +trouble and brought in more profit. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Whose own the sheep ore not</i>," was written in the +ashes of every home ruined by Prince Rupert in the +king's service. +</p> + +<p> +With these deeds the people contrasted the +well-kept orders of the Parliament to Lord Essex. +"You shall carefully restrain all impieties, profaneness, +and disorders, violence, insolence, and plundering +in your soldiers, as well by strict and severe +punishment of such offences as by all others means +which you in your wisdom shall think fit." +</p> + +<p> +And we grew to think that whoever the true +shepherd and king of the people might be, it was +scarcely one who employed the wolf for a sheepdog. +</p> + +<p> +It was but slowly and reluctantly that this +conviction grew on the nation. Those who look back +on the king's life, hallowed by the shadow of his +death, little know how slowly and reluctantly. We +would fain have trusted him if he would have let +us. The nation tried it again and again, and only +too much was sacrificed before they would believe +it was in vain. Still there had been no battle. +The Earl of Essex, after following the Prince from +Worcester, lingered there three weeks, doing +nothing. No battle worth the name for nearly a +hundred and seventy years, until Sunday the 23d of +October, 1642. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the first great shock. All that Sunday +afternoon our countrymen, husbands, brothers, +fathers, sons of the women left in the quiet villages +at home, were fighting in the desperate struggle for +life and death, until at night four thousand Englishmen +lay dead on the slopes of Edgehill, or dying in +the villages around—the day before as tranquil and +peaceful as ours. +</p> + +<p> +I remember there was a peculiar quiet about that +Sunday at Netherby. So many of the men of the +village had gone to the war. Roger had been away +many weeks, and my Father had left some days +before to join Lord Essex at Worcester. In all our +household there were no men left except Bob the +herdsman. The church was strangely deserted. +The Hall pew empty. Scarcely one deep manly +voice in response or psalm. On the benches in the +village a few old men had an unwonted monopoly +of talk, and the lads on anything like the verge +of manhood strode heavily about with a new sense +of importance. One asked another for news. But +there was none, save rumours of mysterious marchings +and counter-marchings of troops, without any +aim that we knew, or the echo of some far-off foray +of Prince Rupert's. There was a dreamy stillness +all around. Tib's voice came up alone from the +kitchen as she moved about some Sabbath work of +necessity, and sung rather uncertainly snatches of +the psalm we had sung at prayers in the morning. +From the slope where the house stood (which gave +us that wide range over the levels which I miss +everywhere else), I saw the cattle feeding far off in +the marshy lands, too far for any sound of their +voices to reach me. The harvest was over on the +nearer slopes, so that there was no music of the +wind rustling through the corn. The land lay half +slumbering in its autumn rest, like Roger's faithful +Lion in his Sunday afternoon sleep on the terrace +below. But, I knew not why, there seemed to me +a kind of expectancy in this calm. A waiting and +listening seemed to palpitate through this stillness +of the land such as pervaded Lion's slumbers as he +couched, quivering at every sound, vainly waiting +for Roger's voice to summon him as usual at this +hour for a walk in the fields. +</p> + +<p> +The feeling grew on me, till all this quiet seemed +not as the rest after a calm, but the calm before a +storm; and the silence excited in me as if it were +the breathless hush of thousands of beating hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Then I thought of Rachel Forster in her lonely +home. And it was a relief to rise at once and go to +her. Her door was open. She was sitting before +the old Bible. It was open, but she was not reading. +Her hands were clashed on her knees. There +was a stillness on her face as great as that over the +country. But in this calm there was something +that calmed me. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to me conscious and victorious, not +dreamlike, and liable at any moment to a terrible +waking. +</p> + +<p> +I told her the restlessness I had been feeling. +</p> + +<p> +"Can we wonder, Mistress Olive?" said she. +"Do we not know what we might be giving them +up for?" +</p> + +<p> +"This quietness of the world seems awful to me +to-day, Rachel," said I, "but in you there is +something that quiets me. You find peace in prayer +Rachel," said I. "Is it not that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I scarce know whether it is prayer, Mistress +Olive. It is nothing but going to the Rock that is +higher than I, and taking all that is precious to me +there, and staying there. It is just creeping to the +foot of the Cross, and keeping there." +</p> + +<p> +"You feel, then, as if something terrible were +coming, Rachel," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"I know something terrible must come," she said, +with a tremulousness in her voice which was more +from enthusiasm than from fear. "To-day, or +to-morrow, or some day. For the Day of Vengeance +is come; and the year of His redeemed is at +hand." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Rachel," I said, "I cannot silently rest as +you do. I want words, entreaties for Roger, for +my Father, for Job, and also for the good men who, +if the battle comes, must die on the wrong side, +and for the king; the king who, if he would but be +true, might set all right again." +</p> + +<p> +And she knelt down and prayed in words brief +and burning, like the prayers in the Bible. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not feel it too lonely here, Rachel?" I +said as I left, "Why not come up to us? Your +presence would be like a strong wall and fortress +to me." +</p> + +<p> +"I am less lonesome here, Mistress Olive," said +she. "Job made so many little plans to spare me +trouble before he went. I see his hand everywhere. +There is the pile of wood close to the fire, and the +little pipe carrying the water to the very door. It +would seem like making light of his work not to use +it all. And besides," she added, "there's a few poor +tried folk who used to look to Job for a good word +and a good turn, and now some of them look to me. +And I could not fail them for the world." +</p> + +<p> +As I wished her good-bye, and walked home and +thought of her, a glorious new sense came on me of +the strength there is in waiting on God, of the +possibility of the feeblest who lean on him being not +only sustained, but becoming themselves strong to +sustain others. +</p> + +<p> +When I went to see Rachel, the whole solid world +had seemed to me, in my anxiety for the precious +lives I could do nothing to preserve, but as some +treacherous and quaking ground among our marshes, +ready to sink down and overwhelm, us, beneath +the weight of our passing footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +As I returned, the world, though in itself as +transitory and uncertain as ever, was once more a solid +pathway to me, because underneath it stood the +foundation of an Almighty love, one word from +whom was stronger and more enduring than all the +worlds. +</p> + +<p> +So we sang our evening psalm, and slept quietly +that night at Netherby, knowing nothing of the four +thousand pale and rigid corpses that lay stretched +on the blood-stained battle-slopes at Edgehill, while +Lord Essex encamped on the silent battle-field, and +the king's watch-fires were kindled on the hill above, +where he began the day, and no ground was gained +on either side; only the lives of four thousand men +lost. +</p> + +<p> +If we may say "lost" of any life yielded up to +duty, and called back to God! +</p> + +<p> +In the tongues of men, we speak of lives lost +on battle-fields: perhaps in the tongue of angels +they speak of lives lost in easy and luxurious +homes. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII. +</h3> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE'S RECOLLECTIONS. +</p> + +<p> +It was not till mid-day on Monday the +24th of October 1642, that the first +tidings reached us of Keinton Fight, or, +as some call it, the Battle of Edgehill. +Tidings indeed they scarcely were, only rumours, +as of far-off thunder faintly moaning through the +heat and stillness of a summer's noon, mysterious, +uncertain, scarcely louder than the hum of insects +in the sunshine, yet almost more awful than the +crash of the thunder-peal overhead. "Wars and +rumours of wars." Until that Monday I had no +conception of the significance of that word +"rumours." I had anticipated the sudden shocks, the +ruthless desolations of war; I had not thought of its +terrible uncertainties, its heart-sickening suspenses. +</p> + +<p> +At noon, when the few men left in the village +were all away in the fields at work, a travelling +tinker passed by who that morning about daybreak +had done some work at a farm where the swineherd +keeping his swine the evening before, on the edge +of a beech-forest some miles to the south, had heard +the sounds far off in the south-west, in the direction +of Oxford, like the thunder of great guns, and the +sharp cracking of musketry. +</p> + +<p> +The tinker did what tinkering was needed in the +village, in the absence of Job the village smith, +and went on his way. Just after he left, Aunt +Gretel and I went to take broken meat and broth +to two or three sick and aged people, and we found +all the women gathered around the black and silent +forge, or rather around Rachel, while she sat quietly +patching in the porch of the cottage; the latticed, +narrow cottage-windows letting in too little light +for any work that required to be neatly done. +</p> + +<p> +An eager excited crowd it was, the scanty measure +of the text only furnishing wider margin for +the commentary. Rachel, meanwhile, sat quietly +in the middle, like a mother among a number of +eager chattering children. +</p> + +<p> +As we reached the group, poor Margery, Dickon's +young wife, with her child in her arms, half-sobbed,— +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder, Rachel, thee can bear to go on stitch, +stitch. Since the news came I have been all of a +tremble thinking of my goodman, who went off +with yourn. I couldn't bring my fingers together +to hold a needle, do what I would." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know that I could well bear it without +the stitching, neighbour," said Rachel, softly. +"When trouble is come, we may well sit still and +weep. The Lord calls us to it. But in the waiting-times +I see nought for it but to brace up the heart +and work." +</p> + +<p> +When we came, all turned to tell us of the dread +rumour. Aunt Gretel brought one or two cheering +stories of providence and deliverance out of the +eventful histories of her youth; and then we went +on our errands, Aunt Gretel thinking we should do +more to soothe and quiet these agitated hearts by +the example of steadily pursuing our task, than by +the wisest talking in the world. +</p> + +<p> +"For," said she, "the true tidings have yet to +come; and they are like to be sad enough to some. +And how will they bear it, if all the strength is +wasted before-hand in vain and mournful guesses?" +</p> + +<p> +The result proved her right, for when our baskets +were emptied, and Aunt Gretel returned home, while +I went to see Rachel again, the village was stirring +as usual with quiet sounds of labour in house after +house, and the excited group around the porch had +dispersed. Only poor Margery lingered, Rachel +having found her occupation in lighting the fire and +preparing supper, to save her returning to her lonely +cottage; while the baby crowed and kicked on the +ground at Rachel's feet. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Rachel," I said, "would it not have quieted +the neighbours to pray together, you with them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe, sweetheart," she said. "But I did not +feel I could. If the news is true, the fight is over. +It's over hours since. The dead are lying cold, out +of the reach of our prayers. And the living are +saved and are giving thanks; and the wounded are +writhing in their anguish, and we know not who +is dead, or wounded, or whole. And when we +look to the earth to think, it comes over us like a +rush of dark waters when the dykes are pierced. So +I can but look to heaven and work. It's light and +not dark where He sitteth. And beyond the thunders +and the lightnings He is caring for us in the +great calm of the upper sky. Caring for us, +sweetheart, as the poor mother cares for this babe; not +sitting on a throne and smiling like the king in the +picture, with both hands full of his sceptre and his +bauble; but with both hands free, to help and to +uphold. So I try to do the bit of work He sets me, +and to look up to Him and feel, 'There is no fear +but that Thou wilt do the work Thou hast set +Thyself; and that is, to care for us all.' And I told +the neighbours they had best try the same." +</p> + +<p> +The words were scarcely out of her lips, when a +horseman came clattering down the village and +stopped at Job's well-known forge. +</p> + +<p> +"What news?" asked a score of voices one after +another, as the women crowded round him. +</p> + +<p> +"Dismal news enough for some, and glorious for +others," he said. "The king's army and Lord +Essex's met yesterday. Lord Essex below in the +Vale of the Red Horse, and the king on Edgehill +above. Prince Rupert charged down on the +Parliament horse, under Commissary-General Ramsay, +broke them in a trice, and pursued them to Keinton, +killing and plundering. I heard it from one of the +routed horsemen who escaped. Everything is lost, +he said, for Lord Essex, and I hasten to carry the +news to one who loves the king." +</p> + +<p> +Hastily draining Rachel's can of home-brewed ale, +he was off in a minute, and out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +All through the afternoon confused and contradictory +news continued to drop in from one and +another. But it was not till the next day (Tuesday) +that we could collect anything like a true account +of the battle,—how for hours, all through the +noon-tide of that autumn Sunday, the two armies had +couched, like two terrible beasts of prey, watching +each other; the king on the height, and Essex in +the plain—as if loth to break with the murderous +roar of cannon our England's two centuries of +peace. +</p> + +<p> +Prayers, no doubt, there were, many and deep, +breaking that silence, to the ear of God; but few, +perhaps, better than that of gallant Sir Jacob +Ashley, one of the king's major-generals: "Lord, +Thou knowest I must be busy this day; if I forget +Thee, do not Thou forget me." +</p> + +<p> +Who began the fight at last, we could not well +make out. The most part said Lord Essex, directing +a sally up the hill, which Prince Rupert +answered by dashing down like a torrent, from the +royal vantage-ground to the plain, on the left wing +of the Parliament army. The men fell or fled on +all sides before his furious charge; and he pursued +them to the village of Keinton, where Lord Essex +had encamped the day before. Deeming the day +won, his men gave themselves up to plundering the +baggage, and slaughtering the wagoners and +unarmed labourers. But meantime Sir William +Balfour, on the right wing, charged the king's left, +broke it, seized and spiked many of the king's guns, +took the royal standard after a struggle which left +sixty brave men dead in sixty yards around it, and +drove nearly the whole royal army to their morning's +position up the hill. There they rallied. Prince +Rupert returned, laden with his blood-stained plunder, +to find the king's army in confusion. But +darkness was setting in; it is said the Parliament +gun-powder began to fail; so no further pursuit +was made, and on Sunday night again both armies +encamped on the ground where they had begun the +battle. The king's camp-fires blazed on the hill, +and the Parliament's in the Vale of the Red Horse. +But between them lay four thousand dead Englishmen,—that +Sabbath morning full of life and courage, +now lying stiff and helpless on the quiet slopes +where they had fallen in the tumult of the mortal +conflict. +</p> + +<p> +It is said, most of those who fell on the king's +side fell standing firm, and of ours running away; +which means, I suppose, that they lost their bravest, +and we our cowards. +</p> + +<p> +I found my Father, and many of the soldiers I +know, always loth to speak much of the battle-field +after a battle. My Father and Roger would +discuss by the hour the handling of troops and the +strategy of the commanders, and all which related +to war as an art or a science, and regarded the +troops as pieces on a board. But of the after-misery, +when the terrible excitement and the skillful +manœuvres of the day were over, and the troops +and regiments had again become only men, wounded, +weary, dead, I never heard them to speak save in a +few broken words. +</p> + +<p> +The difference of language served a little to veil +the common humanity in the German wars, my +Father said; but to hear the fallen entreating for +quarter, or the dying calling on God and on dear +familiar names, or the wounded praying for help +which, in the rush of the battle, could not be given, +in the old mother-tongue, was enough, he said, to +take all the pomp and glory out of war, and to leave +it nothing but its agony and its horror. +</p> + +<p> +Both sides claimed the victory,—Lord Essex by +right of encamping on the field, and the king (some +said) by the weight of Prince Rupert's plunder. +</p> + +<p> +However that might be, neither side pursued the +advantage they both boasted to have gained. +</p> + +<p> +The king, who was between the Parliament army +and London, to the great anxiety of the city, did +not advance, but retired on Oxford,—the Parliament +garrison of Banbury, however, surrendering +to him without a struggle. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Essex made no pursuit, but withdrawing to +London, left the country open to Prince Rupert's +foragers. +</p> + +<p> +But victory or defeat were scarcely the chief +questions to us women that day at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +Margery's anxieties were the first relieved. Her +husband Dickon being in the king's army, sent her +an orange scarf taken from a Parliament horseman +at Keinton, in token of his safety. +</p> + +<p> +Then, on Wednesday, poor Tim, Gammer Grindle's +half-witted grandson, who would, in spite of +all that could be said, follow Roger to the war, +came limping into the village, emaciated and footsore, +with his arm bound up in a sling. He stopped +at Rachel Forster's door, and began stammering a +confused account of Master Roger and Job lying +wounded at Keinton, and the prince's men murdering +some of the wounded, and carrying off Roger and +Job, pinioned, in a cart to gaol, and Tim's trying to +follow on foot, and having his arm broken by a +musket-shot, and his leg wounded, and so, being +left behind, having limped home to tell Mistress +Olive. +</p> + +<p> +But where the gaol was, or how severe Roger's +wound was, or Job's, could in no way be extracted +from poor Tim's confused brain and tongue! "Poor +Tim!" he said, apologising with broken words, as a +faithful dog might with wistful looks, for having +escaped without his master, "Poor Tim tried hard +to follow Master Roger—tried hard! Master Roger +knows Tim did not wish to leave him; Master +Roger knows. Master Roger said, 'Tim, you've +done all you could. Go home. And tell them +Master Roger's all right.'" When first he saw Rachel, +he said, "Poor Job said, 'Take care!'" And then +clenching his hand, with a smile, "Poor Tim took +care!" But he never repeated or explained it. It +was quite useless to question him. That one +purpose of obeying Roger possessed the whole of his +poor brain. The poor creature was faint from pain +and weariness, and loss of blood. Rachel would +have made him a bed in the cottage, and not one +of us at Netherby but would have counted it an +honour to have nursed him for his love to Roger; +but he shook his head: 'Master Roger said, 'Tim, +you've done all you could. Go home.'" And nothing +would satisfy him but to go on to the hovel +by the Mere, were his grandmother lived. +</p> + +<p> +Gammer Grindle was a poor, wizened, old woman, +soured by much trouble and by the constant fretting +of a sharp temper against poverty and wrong, until +few in the village liked to venture near her. Indeed, +there were dark suspicious afloat about her. Many +a labouring-man would have gone a mile round +rather than pass her door after dusk, and many a +yeoman-farmer and goodwife who had lost an unusual +number of sheep or poultry would propitiate +her by the present of a lamb or a fat pullet. And, +in general, in the neighbourhood she was spoken of +with a reverent terror much akin to that of the man +who, after hastily using the name of the devil, +crossed himself, and said, "May he pardon me for +taking his holy name in vain." +</p> + +<p> +But Roger and I happened to have come across +her on another and very different side. In our +fishing expeditions on the Mere her grandson Tim had +often followed us with the fish-basket or tackle; +and the rare contrast of Roger's kindly tones and +words with the jeerings of the rough boys in the +village, had won him in Tim's heart an affection +intense, absorbing, disinterested, and entirely free +from demand of return or hope of reward; more +like that of a faithful dog than of a human being +with purposes and interests of his own. +</p> + +<p> +This had given us access to his grandmother's +hovel, and many a time she had saved me from the +consequences of Aunt Dorothy's just wrath by +kindling up her poor embers of fire to dry my soaked +shoes, and cleaning the mud from my clothes. Simple +easy services, but such as made it altogether +impossible for Roger and me to regard the poor, kind, +shrivelled hands that had rendered them as having +signed a compact with Satan. Besides, did we not +see how good she was, with all her scoldings, to +Tim, and know from broken words which had +dropped now and then how she had loved her only +daughter, the mother of Cicely and Tim, and how +sore her heart was for the poor, lost girl, and what +a power of wronged and disappointed love lay +seething and fermenting beneath the sour sharp +words she spoke? +</p> + +<p> +Roger and I knew that Gammer Grindle was no +outlaw from the pale of humanity by seeing it; +and Rachel Forster knew it, I believe, by seeing +Him at whose feet so many outcasts from human +sympathy found a welcome. And so it happened, +that of all the village no one but Rachel, Roger and +I sought access, or would have had it, to Gammer +Grindle's hovel, so that Rachel that day +accompanied Tim home, and was permitted to share his +grandmother's watch that night. +</p> + +<p> +For Tim's exhaustion soon changed to delirious +fever, as his wound began to be inflamed, and it +was as much as both the women could do to keep +him from rushing out of the hovel to "follow +Master Roger." +</p> + +<p> +All the time, they noticed he kept the hand of +his unwounded arm firmly clenched over something. +But no coaxing or commands, even from his +grandmother's voice, which he was so used to obey, +would induce him to unclasp his hand or let it go. +</p> + +<p> +All that night and the next day the two women +watched by the poor lad, bathing his head, and +trying vainly to keep him still. But towards evening +his strength began to fail, and it was plain that the +fever, having done its work, was relinquishing its +hold to the cold grasp of Another stronger than it. +</p> + +<p> +The poor lad's delirious entreaties ceased, and he +lay so still, that Rachel could hear the cold ripples +of the Mere outside plashing softly among the +rushes, stirred by the night wind; and they sounded +to her like the slow waters of the river of +Death. +</p> + +<p> +Only now and then he said, in a low voice, like a +child crooning to itself, "Poor Tim, Master Roger +knows. Master Roger said, you have done all you +could. Go home." +</p> + +<p> +Once also his eye brightened, and he said, "Cicely, +sister Cicely! Tell her to come soon—soon. I +have watched for her so long!" +</p> + +<p> +Rachel tried to speak to him about Jesus, the +loving Master of us all; he did not object, but +whether he understood or not, she could not tell. +He did not alter the words which had been so +engraven on his poor faithful heart. Only they grew +fainter and fainter, and fewer and more broken, +until, with one sigh, "Master—home," the poor +feeble spirit departed, and the poor feeble body was +at rest. +</p> + +<p> +But Rachel said it seemed to her as if the blessed +Lord would most surely not fail to understand the +poor lad who could not understand about Him, yet +had served so faithfully the best he knew. And she +almost thought she heard a voice from heaven saying, +"Poor Tim! the Master knows. You have +done the best you could. Come home!" +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was not until the poor lad was dead that they +found what he had been so tightly clasping in his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fragment of paper containing a few +words written by Job Forster, of which Tim had +indeed "taken care," as the clasp of the lifeless hand +proved too well. +</p> + +<p> +The words were,— +</p> + +<p> +"Rachel, be of good cheer, as I am. I am hurt +on the shoulder, but not so bad. They are taking +me with Roger to Oxford goal. His wound is in +the side, painful at first, but Dr. Antony got the +ball out, and says he will do well. Thee must not +fret, nor try to come to us. It would hurt thee and +do us no good. The Lord careth." +</p> + +<p> +Rachel read this letter, with every word made +emphatic, by her certainty that Job would make as +light as possible of any trouble, by her knowledge +that his pen was not that of a ready writer, and +by her sense of what she would have done herself +in similar circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +"Rachel!"—the word, she knew, had taken him +a minute or two to spell out, and it meant a whole +volume of esteem and love; and by the same +measure, "hurt" meant "disabled;" and "not so +bad," simply not in immediate peril of life; and +"thee must not come," to her heart meant "come if +thou canst, though I dare not bid thee." +</p> + +<p> +It was not Rachel's way to let trouble make her +helpless, or even prevent her being helpful where +she was needed. God, she was sure, had not meant +it for that. She lived at the door of the House of +the Lord, and therefore, at this sudden alarm, she +did not need a long pilgrimage by an untrodden +path to reach the sanctuary. A moment to lay +down the burden and enter the open door, and lift +up the heart there within; and then to the duty in +hand. She remained, therefore, with Gammer +Grindle until they had laid the poor faithful lad +in his shroud; then she gave all the needful orders +for the burial, so that it was not till dusk she was +seated in her own cottage, with leisure to plan how +she should carry out what, from the moment she +had first glanced at her husband's letter, she had +determined to do. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour sufficed her for thinking, or "taking +counsel," as she called it; half an hour more for +making preparations and coming across to us at +Netherby, with her mind made up and all her +arrangements settled. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived in the Hall, she handed Job's letter to +Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"What can be done?" said Aunt Dorothy. +"How can it be that we have not heard from my +brother or Dr. Antony? The king's forces must +be between us and Oxford, and the letters must +have been seized. But never fear, Rachel," she +added, in a consoling tone. "At first they talked +of treating all the Parliament prisoners as traitors; +but that will never be. A ransom or an exchange +is certain. Stay here to-night; it will be less +lonely for you. We can take counsel together; and +to morrow we will think what to do." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been thinking, Mistress Dorothy; and +I have taken counsel. I am going at day-break +to-morrow to Oxford; and I came to ask if I could +do aught for you, or take any message to Master +Roger." +</p> + +<p> +"How?" said Aunt Dorothy. "And who will +go with you? Who will venture within the grasp +of those plunderers?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have not asked any one, Mistress Dorothy. I +am going alone on our own old farm-horse." +</p> + +<p> +"You travel scores of miles alone, and into the +midst of the king's army, Rachel!" said Aunt +Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"I have taken counsel, Mistress Dorothy," said +Rachel calmly, and, looking up, Aunt Dorothy met +that in Rachel's quiet eyes which she understood, +and she made no further remonstrance. +</p> + +<p> +"We will write letters to Roger," she said, after +a pause. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time they were ready, with one from +me to Lettice Davenant. +</p> + +<p> +Neither my Aunts nor I slept much that night. +We were revolving various plans for helping Rachel, +each unknown to the other. +</p> + +<p> +I had thought of a letter to a friend of my +Father's who lived half-way between us and Oxford, +and rising softly in the night, without telling any +one, I wrote it. For I had removed to Roger's +chamber while he was away; it seemed to bring +me nearer to him. +</p> + +<p> +Then, before daybreak, feeling sure Rachel would +be watching for the first streaks of light, I crept +out of our house to hers. +</p> + +<p> +She was dressed, and was quietly packing up the +great Bible which lay always on the table, and +laying it in the cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +"Happy Rachel!" I said, kissing her; "to be old +enough to dare to go." +</p> + +<p> +"There is always some work, sweetheart," said +she, "for every season, not to be done before or +after. That is why we need never be afraid of +growing old." +</p> + +<p> +I gave her my letter. She took it gratefully; but +she said— +</p> + +<p> +"Too fine folks for a plain body like me, Mistress +Olive. God bless you for the thought. But +in one village I must pass there is a humble godly +man who has oft tarried with us for a night, and +has expounded the word to us, and no doubt he will +give me a token to another. And if not, the seven +thousand are always known to the Lord. The +prophet Elijah, indeed, did not know; but after he +was told about it once for all, none of us ought ever +to say again, 'I only am left alone.'" +</p> + +<p> +"But how will you manage when you get to +Oxford?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"God forbid I should presume to say, +sweet-heart," said she. "Oxford is many steps off. And +the Lord has only shown me the next step. Job is +wounded and in prison and wants me, and will my +God, and his, fail to show me how to get to him?" +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke these last words, the force of +repressed passion, and of faith contending in them, +gave her voice an unwonted depth, which made it +sound to me like another voice answering her. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Aunt Gretel arrived, laden with +a small basket containing spiced cordials and +preserved meats for Rachel's journey. +</p> + +<p> +And not a quarter of an hour afterwards, Aunt +Dorothy, on horseback, bent on protecting Rachel +through some portion of her way. +</p> + +<p> +And then Margery and the babe, who had come +at Rachel's request. +</p> + +<p> +Before mounting her horse, Rachel said,— +</p> + +<p> +"You will have thought of being at poor Tim's +burying, Mistress Olive?" +</p> + +<p> +We promise all to be there. +</p> + +<p> +And Rachel from the mounting-steps climbed up +on the patient old horse, and was gone, only turning +back once to smile at us as we watched her. +</p> + +<p> +She was not a woman for after-thoughts, or last +lingering words. She had always said what she +wanted before the last. +</p> + +<p> +She had left us the heavy key of the cottage-door, +that we might give away the little stores which +she had divided the night before into various +portions for her poor neighbours. She had intended +committing them to Margery, but as we were there +first, we undertook the charge. How simply and +how unheralded events come which hallow our +common tables and chambers with the tender +solemnity as of places of worship or of burial. The +sound of Rachel's horse-hoofs was scarcely out of +hearing when the empty cottage had become to us +as a sacred place. The little packets her neat hands +had arranged so thoughtfully were no common +loaves, or meat, but sacred relics hallowed by her +loving touch. And it was hard to look at the +firewood Job had piled by the fire for her, and the +little stone channel he had made to bring the water +near the door, without tears. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE DAVENANT'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Oxford, November</i> 1, 1642.—Victoria! The first +step is gained; the first lesson given, though at +some cost of noble lives to us and to the king. +Lord Essex is fain to retreat to London to console +the affrighted citizens, leaving the whole country +open to the king. Yet my Father saith privately +to us, this victory of Edgehill might have been far +more complete had it not been for Prince Rupert's +rashness. Indeed, after the fight there had well-nigh +been a duel in the king's presence between the +prince and a gentleman who expressed his mind +pretty freely on the matter. The prince, after +pursuing the rebels to Keinton, lingered there, +plundering the baggage, and returned with his horses +laden with the spoils to find the royal army not in +such order as it might have been had his troops +kept with it. 'We can give a good account of the +enemy's horse, your Majesty,' he said. 'Yes,' said +this gentleman standing by, 'and of their carts +too.' For which jest the haughty hot-blooded prince +would have had severe revenge, had not the king +with much ado brought them to an accommodation. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Note</i>.—The young Princes Charles and James, +of but ten or twelve years old, had a narrow escape. +Their governor, Dr. Harvey, a learned man, was +sitting quietly with them on the grass reading his +book, and never perceived anything was amiss until +the bullets came whizziug round him. I wonder +royal persons should be trusted to the care of +people whose wits are always at the ends of the earth, +like philosophers. Who knows how different things +might have been in the world if Dr. Harvey and +the young princes had sat there a few minutes +longer! +</p> + +<p> +"However, the best fruits of victory are beginning +to appear. Gentlemen, whose loyalty had +been somewhat wavering, are riding in from all +quarters, well accoutred, abundantly attended, +finely mounted, to offer their services to His Majesty. +</p> + +<p> +"This grave and stately old city is gorgeous +with warlike array, and echoing with warlike +music. +</p> + +<p> +"My Father, Mother, and I are lodged in Lincoln +College. A distant cousin of ours, Sir William +Davenant, who hath writ many plays and farces, +and now fights in the army, being of this college, +and also others of our kindred from the north +country. I feel quite at home in the rooms with +their thick walls, and high narrow arched windows +like those in the turret-chamber at the Hall, more +at home than the old quadrangles and walls +themselves can be with all this clamour and trumpeting +to arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Not that there is much to be seen in the great +inner court on which my chamber-window looks. +An ancient vine climbs up one side of the walls, +encircling the entrance arch, and its leaves, brown +and crimson with the autumn, stirred with the +breeze, are making a pleasant quiet country music +as I write. This vine is held in high honour in the +college, having illustrated the text of the sermon, +'Look on this vine,' which inspired good Bishop de +Rotheram, more than two hundred years since, to +become the second Founder of the College. +</p> + +<p> +"Through this entrance-arch I look beyond its +shadow to the sunny street, crossed now and then +by the flash of arms, and gay Cavaliers' mantles, +or the prancings of a troop of horse. That is all +the glimpse I have of the outer world. But I think +my Mother were content to live in such a place for +ever. Every day she resorts more than once to a +quiet corner of the new Chapel to pay her orisons, +taking delight in the stillness, and in the brilliant +colours of the painted windows Bishop Williams +(once the antagonist of Archbishop Laud, and now +with him in the Tower) had brought but a few +years since from Italy. +</p> + +<p> +"Outside this chapel there is a garden, where we +walk, and discourse of the prospects of the +kingdom, and of those friends at Netherby from whom +we are now so sadly parted. +</p> + +<p> +"For Roger and Mr. Drayton are in the rebel +army—alas! there is no longer doubt of it—and +any day their hands and those of my seven brothers, +all in the king's army, may be against each +other. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>November</i> 8th.—The king and the army are +away at Reading, with my Father and my brothers; +and the city is quiet enough without them. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot is now on service about the Castle. +I would he were on the field, and one of my +brothers here. However, I am not like to see +much of him at present. He will scarce venture to +come after what I had to say to him this morning. +</p> + +<p> +"He came in laughing, saying he had just seen +an encounter between an old rebel woman at the +gate and four of Prince Rupert's plunderers. 'She +was contending with them for the possession of a +sober Puritanical-looking old horse,' said he. 'They +claimed it for the king's service. She said 'that +might be, but in that case she chose to give it up +herself unto the care of one of His Majesty's court, +to whom she had a letter.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Did you not give her a helping word?' said I. +</p> + +<p> +"'I am scarcely such a knight errant as that, +Mistress Lettice,' said he; 'I should have enough +to do, in good sooth. Moreover, the godly +generally make good fight for their carnal goods, and +in this instance the woman seemed as likely as not +to have the best of the debate, to say nothing of her +being wrinkled and toothless.' +</p> + +<p> +"That made me flash up, as speaking lightly of +aged women always does. 'Poor chivalry,' said I, +'which has not recollection enough of a mother to +lend a helping hand to the old and wrinkled. We +shall be wrinkled and toothless in a few years, sir, +and our imagination is not so weak but that we can +fore-date a little while, and transfer all such heartless +jests to ourselves. I have been used to higher +chivalry than that among the Puritans. +</p> + +<p> +"He laughed, and made a pretty pathetic +deprecation. His mother had died (quoth he) when he +was too young to remember. Some little excuse, +perchance. However, Roger Drayton's mother also +died when he was in infancy. But be that as it +might, I was in no mood to listen. And as we +were speaking, a serving-man came to tell me a +poor woman from Netherby was in the ante-room +craving to see me or my Mother. +</p> + +<p> +"It was Rachel Forster. +</p> + +<p> +"Her neat Puritan hood, so dainty, I think around +her pale worn-looking face, was rather ruffled, and +although her eyes had the wonted quiet in them, +(only a little loftier than usual,) she was trembling, +and willingly took the chair I offered her. +</p> + +<p> +"'You did not find it easy coming through the +royal lines,' I said. +</p> + +<p> +"'Nothing but a few rude jests at the gate, Mistress +Lettice,' said she; 'but I am not used to them, +or to going about the world alone. But I have +been taken good care of. And I am <i>here</i>,' she added, +fervently; 'which is all I asked.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Did they try to take your horse from you?' I +said. +</p> + +<p> +"'They took him,' she said. 'But that matters +little. He was a faithful beast, and I am feared how +they may use him. But the beasts have only now, +neither fore nor after, which saves them much.' Then +without more words she gave me a letter from +Olive. +</p> + +<p> +"From this I found that Roger is a prisoner in +the Castle here, with Job Forster. +</p> + +<p> +"I went into the other chamber, and asked Sir +Launcelot had he known of this. +</p> + +<p> +"'I learned it a day or two since,' he replied, +hesitating, 'but I did not tell you or Lady Lucy, +because you are so pitiful, I feared to pain you +uselessly.' +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>We</i> might have judged whether it was +uselessly or not, Sir Launcelot!' said I. +</p> + +<p> +"'Can I do anything for you?' he asked, in confusion. +</p> + +<p> +"'Nothing,' said I. 'You might have helped an +aged woman, a friend of mine, whom you found in +difficulties at the gate this morning. But now, +excuse me, I have no time to spare—I must go to +my Mother.' And I withdrew to the inner room, +to bring my Mother out at once to see what could +be done; leaving him to retire through the +ante-room, where Rachel Forster sat. +</p> + +<p> +"I trow he will not be in a hurry to visit us again. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother and Rachel had always been friends. +They both live a good deal at the height where the +party-colours blend in the one sunlight; and they +neither of them ever speak half as much as they +feel about religion. +</p> + +<p> +"There was not much to say, therefore, when my +Mother understood her errand. My Mother's word +had weight, and in a few hours she had procured a +permit for Rachel to see her husband, provided the +interview was in her presence. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a noisome place, she said—many persons +crowded together like cattle in dungeons, with +scant light or air, and none to wait on them but +each other. Job was on some straw in a corner, +looking sorely altered—his strong limbs limp and +emaciated, and his eye languid. But it was +wonderful how his face lighted up when he saw Rachel. +</p> + +<p> +"'I thought thee would come', said he, 'though +I bid thee not. I knew thee had learned how "all +things are possible."' +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother's intercessions procured for them +the great favour of a cell, which, though narrow, +low, damp, and underground, they were to have to +themselves. And before she left, Rachel's neat +hands had made the straw and matting look like a +proper sick-bed, while her presence had lighted the +cell into a home. +</p> + +<p> +"Then my Mother went to see Roger Drayton. +His wound was not so severe as Job's, and his +lodging was better, though wretched enough. Great +complaints were made about the prisons. But, I +fear, all war-prisons, suddenly and not very +tenderly arranged, are hard enough. +</p> + +<p> +"'Have you seen Job Forster?' was his first +question after greeting her. +</p> + +<p> +"She told him what had been done. +</p> + +<p> +"'I begged hard to be allowed to share his prison. +But they would not let me,' said Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger, though far less suffering, looked less +tranquil than Job, my Mother said. He did not +ask for me until he had read Olive's letter, and then +he said abruptly,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Olive says she has written to Mistress Lettice.' And +his face flushed deeply as he added, 'Olive is +but a child in such things, Lady Lucy, and cannot +know the hard laws of war. You will not be +offended if she pleads, fancying you could do +anything for us. You must not let anything she says +trouble you, you are so kind. For I know nothing +can be done.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Only one thing troubles me,' my Mother said, +evasively, 'I would give much if <i>that</i> could be +changed.' +</p> + +<p> +"She did not think it generous to say more, but +he understood, and answered,— +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>That</i> can <i>not</i> be changed, unless all could be +changed. It makes me restless enough to be shut +up here, Lady Lucy, but it does not make me +<i>doubt</i>.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Those Draytons are like rocks—as firm, and +almost as hard. No, not hard. Nothing they +ought not to be, if only they were on the right +side! +</p> + +<p> +"And Roger called Olive a child. I wonder, +then, what he thinks me, who am two years +younger! +</p> + +<p> +"However, my Mother thinks something can be +done for Roger. Exchanges can be made. Little +comfort in that. He is less dangerous to himself +and every one else where he is, than in the field +again. Yet my Mother says the air and food of the +prison are none of the most wholesome. And, of +course, Olive wants to have him free. These are +most perplexing times. One cannot even tell what +to wish. +</p> + +<p> +"I would send him a message when my Mother +goes again, but that he scarcely even asked for me; +only defended himself against joining in Olive's +pleadings for himself. So proud! I will send him +no message, not a word. Nothing but a few sweet +autumn violets from the college garden; because +the air of the prison is so bad. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>February</i> 10.—Job Forster all but sank. He +must have died if my Mother had not pleaded hard +and got permission at last for him to be taken home +to Netherby in one of our Hall wagons. She +thought it would scarce be more than to die. But +to-day we have had a letter from Rachel, saying, the +very sight of the forge and smell of the fields +seemed to work on him like a heavenly cordial, and +she doubts not he will rally. Dr. Antony hath +been to see him, and Olive, and Mistress Gretel, and +Mistress Dorothy, and brought him meats and +strong waters, and read him sermons, saith she, and +they say he could not be doing better. But, she +adds, she hopes Lady Lucy will not think it thankless +that he should use his liberty to fight for the +Parliament, as no condition was made on his +return; and he thinks the Covenant under which he +fights must stand good, and dares not break it. So +my sweet Mother hath on her conscience the guilt +of tenderly nourishing a viper to sting what she +loveth best! +</p> + +<p> +"But Roger Drayton is to be exchanged for one +of our Cavaliers, and is to leave Oxford to-morrow. +All these weeks he hath been here, and never a +word between us, except some cold thanks for those +violets. So proud is he! And it was not for me +to begin. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>February</i> 11.—Roger Drayton had the grace to +pay us his devoirs before he left, at Lincoln College. +But he would scarce sit down. I trow he was +afraid of being vanquished if he ventured into +debate concerning his bad cause. He did not say +anything to me. If he had, I felt tempted to say +something angry. But he did not begin; and why +should I? Until at last, as he was leaving, he +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Mistress Lettice, I am going to join Colonel +Cromwell at Cambridge. But I may see Olive by +the way. May I say a word to her from you? +Sometimes a message is better than a letter.' +</p> + +<p> +"I could not think of anything to say. It took +me so by surprise after his silence. For it was just +like his old tone by the Mere, or in the woods, or +on the terraces at Netherby, and at the Hall. And +it so brought poor old Netherby back to me, and all +the old happy days, that I was afraid my voice +would tremble if I spoke. I could only think of +Mistress Dorothy's sermons; things come into one's +head so strangely. So, after a little while, I said +very abruptly, 'I sent Olive dear love—and to tell +Mistress Dorothy I had read her sermons.' +</p> + +<p> +"But his voice trembled a little as he wished us +good-bye; I certainly think it did. And he was +not out of the door when I thought of ten thousand +messages to send to Olive. But I could not go +after him to say them. I could only go to the +window and watch him through the court. I was +almost sorry I did. For he looked up and saw me, +and seemed half inclined to turn back. But, +instead, he made a strange little reverence, as if he +did not quite know whether to seem to see me or +not. I wonder if he also had thought of a few +things he would have liked to have said! He was +always rather slow in speech; I mean, his words +always meant about ten times as much as any other +man's. +</p> + +<p> +"And so he strode across the court and under the +shadow of the archway into the sunny street +outside. To join Colonel Cromwell. Colonel, indeed! +By whose commission? Roger might at least have +spared us that. If it had been Mr. Hampden even, +or Lord Essex, it would not have been so bad. But +this fanatic brewer! +</p> + +<p> +"However, I am glad I said nothing angry. One +never knows in these days where or when the next +word may be spoken. And then alack, this +Mr. Cromwell, they say, is sure to be just where the +fighting is. +</p> + +<p> +"He did not look amiss in that plain Puritan +armour. The cap-a-pie armour of the 'Ironsides,' as +some begin to call them. It seems to me more +martial and more manly than the gay trappings +of our Cavaliers. Gallant decorations are well +enough for a dance or a masque; but in real warfare +I think the plainest vesture looks the noblest. +At Edgehill His Majesty must have looked most +stately in his suit of plain black velvet, with no +ornament but the George. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>March</i> 1643.—There is a Dr. Thomas Fuller +lodging here at present, who is a great solace to my +Mother, and also to me, being a kind of cousin of +ours through his maternal uncle Dr. Davenant, +Bishop of Salisbury. +</p> + +<p> +"He is tall and athletic, with pleasant blue eyes, +full of mirth, and withal of kindness, of a ruddy +complexion, with fair wavy locks. He hath wit +enough for a play-wright, and piety enough,—I had +almost said for a Puritan—I should rather say for +an archbishop. +</p> + +<p> +"He was in London a few weeks since, and preached +a sermon to incline the rebels to peace, which is +all his desire. But they did not relish it, and would +have him sign one of their unmannerly Covenants; +which not being able to do, he has fled hither. Yet +am I not sure that he is more at home among our +rollicking Cavaliers. +</p> + +<p> +"I would I could remember half the wise and +witty things he saith. I like his wit, because is +often cuts both ways—against Puritan and Cavalier; +and more especially at present against the +younger sort of the latter, whose reckless +manners suit him ill. The poor Puritans are so hit on +all sides with the shafts of ridicule, that in fairness +I like to see some of the darts flying the other way, +especially against such as assume to themselves the +monopoly of wit. +</p> + +<p> +"'Harmless mirth,' said Dr. Fuller the other +day, 'is the best cordial against the consumption of +the spirits, but jest not with the two-edged sword +of God's word. Will nothing please thee to wash +thy hands in but the font? Or to drink healths in +but the church-chalice?' +</p> + +<p> +"He is very busy, and is abstemious in eating +and drinking, and is an early riser. Sir Launcelot, +liking not, I ween, to feel the jest so against himself, +calls him a Puritan in disguise; but Harry and he +are good friends, and to my Mother he behaveth +ever with a gentle deference, as all men, indeed, are +wont to do. With her his wit seems to change its +nature from fire to sunshine. So tenderly doth he +seek to brighten her pensive and somewhat +self-reproachful spirit into peace and praise. She on +her part hath her sweet returns of sympathy for +him, drawing him forth to discourse of his young +wife lately dead, and his motherless infant boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Religion with my Mother is a life of affections, +not merely a code of rules; and, I suppose, like all +affections, brings its sorrows as well as its joys. +Otherwise I could scarce account for the heaviness +she so often is burdened withal. +</p> + +<p> +"One day, when she was fearing to embrace the +cheering words of Scripture, Dr. Fuller encouraged +her by reminding her how in the Hebrews the promise, +'I will not leave thee, nor forsake thee,' though +at first made only to Joshua, is applied to all good +men. 'All who trust the Saviour, and follow +him,' said he, 'are heirs-apparent to all the promises.' +</p> + +<p> +"But she, who being a saint (by any laws of +canonization) ever bemoaneth herself as though she +were a penitent weeping between the porch and the +altar, put off his consolation with— +</p> + +<p> +"'True, indeed, for all <i>good</i> men.' +</p> + +<p> +"To which he, unlike most ghostly comforters I +have heard, replied with no honeyed commendation, +false or true, but said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'In the agony of a wounded conscience always +look upward to God to keep thy soul steady. For +looking downward on thyself, thou shalt find +nothing but what will increase thy fear; infinite +sins, good deeds few and imperfect. It is not thy +faith, but God's faithfulness thou must rely on. +Casting thine eyes down to thyself, to behold the +great distance between what thou desirest and what +thou deservest is enough to make thee giddy, stagger, +and reel unto despair. Ever, therefore, lift up +thine eyes to the hills whence cometh thine help.' +</p> + +<p> +"'The reason,' quoth he afterwards, 'why so +many are at a loss in the agony of a wounded conscience, +is, that they look for their life in the wrong +place—namely, in their own piety and purity. Let +them seek and search, dig and dive never so deep, +it is all in vain. For though Adam's life was hid in +himself, yet, since Christ's coming all the original +evidences of our salvation are kept in a higher +office—namely, hidden in God himself. Surely many a +despairing soul groaning out his last breath with +fear to sink down to hell, hath presently been +countermanded by God to eternal happiness.' +</p> + +<p> +"His words brought tears to my Mother's eyes, +but comfort, said she, to her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet, though she saw sunshine through the +clouds, she feared to find the cloud again beyond +the sunshine, whereon he heartened her further by +saying, 'Music is sweetest near or over rivers, +where the echo thereof is best rebounded by the +water. Praise for pensiveness, thanks for tears, +and blessing God over the floods of affliction, +makes the most melodious music in the ear of +heaven.' +</p> + +<p> +"Good and fit words for her who needs and +deserves such. To me these other words of his are +more to the purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"'How easy,' saith he, 'is pen and paper piety. +It is far cheaper to work one's head than one's heart +to goodness. I can make a hundred meditations +sooner than subdue one sin in my soul.' +</p> + +<p> +"He gave my Mother also a sermon of his 'on the +doctrine of assurance,' which she much affects. +'All who seek the grace of assurance,' he writes, +'in a diligent and faithful life, may attain it without +miraculous illumination. Yet many there are who +have saving faith without it. And those who deny +this will prove racks to tender consciences. As the +careless mother killed her little child, for she +overlaid it, so this heavy doctrine would press many +poor but pious souls, many infant faiths, to the pit +of despair.' +</p> + +<p> +"<i>April</i> 1643.—Dr. Fuller hath left us to be +chaplain in the regiment of Lord Hopton, an honorable +man, who will honour him, and give him scope to +do all the good that may be to the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +"He took leave of us in the college-garden, and +gave my Mother a book of his imprinted last year, +when he was preacher at the Savoy in London. It +is entitled the Holy State and the Profane State, +and seemeth wise and witty like himself. As he +parted from us, he begged her to remember that +'all heavenly gifts, as they are got by prayer, are +kept and increased by praise.' +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Note</i>.—I like well what he writes of anger. +'Anger is one of the sinews of the soul. He that +wants it hath a maimed mind.' I would I had +known this saying to comfort Roger Drayton +withal, when Sir Launcelot provoked him to that +blow. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet another saying is perhaps as needful, at +least for me, 'Be not mortally angry for a venial +fault. He will make a strange combustion in the +state of his soul who at the landing of every +cock-boat sets the beacons on fire.' +</p> + +<p> +"We miss Dr. Fuller sorely; my Mother for his +words of ghostly cheer, and I for the just and +generous things he dares to say of good men on the +other side, and saith with a wit and point which +leaves no opening for scornful jest to controvert. +</p> + +<p> +"If Dr. Fuller had been the vicar of Netherby, +and if the Draytons had known him, maybe many +things had gone otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, alack! there seems less hope of accommodation +by this Christmas than I had felt sure of by +the last. +</p> + +<p> +"The Parliament Commissioners were here +through March, and have but now left. +</p> + +<p> +"Some Lords and some Commons. But nought +could they accomplish. How, indeed, could aught +be hoped from subjects who presume to treat with +their liege lord as with a rival power? +</p> + +<p> +"My Lord Falkland (now the king's secretary) +comes now and then to converse with my Mother. +Those who knew him before this sad rebellion +began, say he is sorely changed from what he was. +Whereas his mind used to be as free and open to +entertain all wise and pleasant thoughts of others, +as his mansion at Great Tew, near this was free +and open to entertain their persons, so that they +called it 'a college of smaller volume in a purer air;' +now, they say, he is often preoccupied, and when in +private will sigh and moan 'Peace! peace!' and +say he shall soon die of a broken heart, if this dire +war be prolonged. This especially since the royal +army was driven back from Brentford on its way to +London. +</p> + +<p> +"But to us, who contrast him not with his former +self, but with other men, he seems the gentlest and +most affable of Cavaliers, ever ready to give ear and +due weight to thought and wish of any, the least +or the lowest. +</p> + +<p> +"We had not known him much of old, because +he leant to the Puritan party (being a close friend +of Mr. Hampden), and thought ill of Archbishop +Laud, and spoke not too well of bishops or episcopacy. +</p> + +<p> +"But in this conflict I think the noblest on each +side are those who are all but on the other; not, I +mean, in affection—for lukewarmness is never a +virtue—but in conviction and character. +</p> + +<p> +"The queen is amongst us again, as graceful and +full of charms as ever. But some think the king +were liker to follow moderate counsels without her. +He holds her as ever in a perfect adoration, and it is +not likely to conciliate him that Parliament have +actually dared to 'impeach' her. Blasphemy +almost, if it were not more like the folly of naughty +children playing at being grandsires and grandames! +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 26.—Mr. Hampden is dead! By a singular +mark of the divine judgment (Mr. Hyde says), +he was mortally wounded on Chalgrove Field, the +very place where he began not many months since +to proclaim the rebellious Ordinance Militia. It +was in a skirmish with Prince Rupert. The same +night the rumour spread among us that something +beyond ordinary ailed him, for he was seen to ride +off the field in the middle of the fight (a thing never +before known in him), with his head low drooping, +and his hands on his horse's neck. Less than a +fortnight afterwards, he died in sore agonies, they +say, but persevering in his delusion to the end, so +that his heart was not troubled. +</p> + +<p> +"The king would have sent him a chirurgeon of +his own, had it been of any use. +</p> + +<p> +"He was much on my Mother's heart, since she +heard of his being wounded, for he was ever held +to be a brave and blameless gentleman. She +grieved sore that he uttered no one repentant word. +</p> + +<p> +"(Yet the last word we heard he spoke was not +so ill a word to die with; 'O God, save my +bleeding country!') +</p> + +<p> +"'But,' said she, 'there are Papists who die +without ever seeing anything wrong in the mass, or +in regarding the blessed Virgin as Queen of +Heaven, who yet die calling on the blessed Saviour +with such piteous entreaty as he surely faileth not +to hear. And it may be trusted Mr. Hampden's +heresy is no worse.' +</p> + +<p> +"To most around us it is simply the rebels' loss +in him that is accounted of. And that they say is +more than an army. For he was the man best +beloved in all the land. Some of us, however, speak +of the loss to England, and say that his and my +Lord Falkland's were the only right hands through +which this sundered realm might have met in +fellowship again. +</p> + +<p> +"I see nothing glorious in the glories of this war, +nothing triumphant in its triumphs, no gain in its +spoils. +</p> + +<p> +"It makes my heart ache to see Prince Rupert +and his Cavaliers return flushed with success and +laden with plunder from raids all over the country. +I cannot help seeing in my heart the poor farmers +wandering about their despoiled granaries and +stalls, and the goodwife bemoaning her empty +dairy, and the children missing the cattle and +poultry, which are not 'provision' only to them, but +friends; and soon, alack poor foolish babes, to miss +provision too and cry for it in vain. +</p> + +<p> +"These are our own English homes that are ravaged +and wasted. What triumph is there in it for +any of us? I would the hearts of these Palatine +princes yearned a little more tenderly towards their +mother's countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +"The only hope is that all these horrors will +bring the end, the end, the 'Peace, peace,' for which +my Lord Falkland groans. +</p> + +<p> +"But I know not; I think of Netherby and the +Draytons; and I scarce deem English hearts are to +be won back by terror and plunder. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i> 28, 1643.—Better hopes! Something +like a glimpse of the end, at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Two memorable months. +</p> + +<p> +"Everything is going prosperously for the king +and the good cause, north, and south, and west. +</p> + +<p> +"In the north, on June the 3rd, the Earl of +Newcastle defeated Lord Fairfax and the rebels at +Atherton Moor. A few days afterwards York and +Gainsborough and Lincoln surrendered, and now +not a town remains to the Parliament between +Bewich and Hull. +</p> + +<p> +"On the 13th of July, not a fortnight afterwards, +Sir William Waller was defeated and his whole +army scattered on Lansdowne Heath, near Devizes; +the only offset to this advantage being the death of +the brave and good Sir Bevill Grenvill, for whose +wife, Lady Grace, bound to him in the truest +honour and love, my Mother mourned much. +</p> + +<p> +"The West, they say, is loyal; Cornwall fervent +for the king. +</p> + +<p> +"And on July 22nd, not a fortnight after this, +Prince Rupert took Bristol, thus doing much to +secure Wales, otherwise, moreover, well-affected. +</p> + +<p> +"Our hopes are high indeed. In all the horizon +there seems but one shadow like a cloud, and that +so small I should scarce mention it but that an old +friend is under it. Mr. Cromwell (or Colonel, as they +call him now, forsooth) gained some slight advantage +at Grantham and Gainsborough, and stormed +Burleigh House. Indeed, wherever he is, they say, +he seems just now to bring good fortune. But this, +I think, bodes no ill. Little weight indeed can +these unsuccessful skirmishes have to counterbalance +victories, and captured cities, and reviving +loyalty throughout the North and West and South. +And if the rebels are to succeed anywhere, I had +rather it were where Roger Drayton is, because it +is in the nature of the Draytons to be more yielding +in prosperity than in ill fortune. +</p> + +<p> +"His Majesty has just set forth with the army, +all in high feather, to besiege the obstinate and +disloyal city of Gloucester. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord Essex, they say, is collecting an army to +meet him. But we could wish for no better. One +decisive battle, my Lord Falkland and other wise +men think, is the one thing to end the war. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>September</i> 22<i>nd</i>, 1643.—I cannot make it out. +They say there has been a victory at Newbury, yet +nothing seems to come of it. The king is here +again, and the siege of Gloucester is given up, and +our people begin to quarrel among themselves, +treading on each other in their eagerness for places +and titles and honours. I think they might wait a little, +at all events, till the Court is at Whitehall again. +</p> + +<p> +"One good sign is that three rebel Earls—Bedford, +Holland, and Clare—have returned to their +allegiance. The Earl of Holland raised the militia +for the Parliament, so that he hath somewhat to +repent of. There is much discussion how they should +be received; the elder Cavaliers recommending a +politic forgetting of their offence; but we, who are +younger, desire they should be received as naughty +children, if not with reproaches, at most with a cool +and lofty indifference, to show we need them not. +It would not look well to be too glad. And, +moreover, they are three more claimants for the royal +grace, and the faithful like not that the faithless +should be better served than they who have borne +the burden and heat of the day. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought prosperity would have made us one, +but it seems otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +"And Harry says the noblest is gone. The noblest, +he says, always fall the first victims in such +conflicts as these, so that the strife grows more +cruel, and baser from year to year. +</p> + +<p> +"The Lord Falkland was slain at Newbury. He +was missing on the evening of the fight, but all +through the night they hoped he might have been +taken prisoner. On the morrow, however, they +found him among the slain, 'Only too glad to +receive his discharge,' Harry said. On the morning +of the battle he was of good cheer, as was his wont; +his spirits rising at the approach of danger. His +friends urged him not to go into the battle, he +having no command, but he would not be kept away. +He rode gallantly on in the front ranks of Lord +Byron's regiment, between two hedges, behind which +the Roundheads had planted their musketeers. 'I +am weary of the times,' he said to those who urged +him to withdraw; 'I foresee much misery to my +country, but I believe I shall be out of it before +night.' +</p> + +<p> +"And so he was; and needeth now no more dolefully +to moan for 'Peace, peace!' as so often in +these last months. He is singing it now, we trust, +where good men understand all perplexed things, +and each other. +</p> + +<p> +"Falkland and Hampden! Alas! how many +more before the peace songs are chanted here on +earth! +</p> + +<p> +"The two right hands are cold and stiff through +which the king and the nation might have been +clasped together again in fellowship. +</p> + +<p> +"Who, or what, will reunite us now?" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX. +</h3> + +<p> +The winter of 1642-43 was one of +uneasy uncertainty to us at Netherby. +The whole world seemed to lie dim +and hazy, as if wrapped in the heavy +folds of a November fog. The next villages seemed +to become far-off and foreign, in the unsettled state +of the country. There was no knowing the faces +and voices of friends from those of foes, in the +rapid shifting of parties. The comrade of yesterday +was the opponent of to-day. Who could say +what the comrade of to-day might be to-morrow? +Mr. Capel, the Member for Hertfordshire, who had +been the first in Parliament to complain of +grievances, had become Lord Capel, and was threatening +the seven associated counties with his plunderers. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Essex (many thought) seemed as frightened +at success as at failure. Victories lulled him into +fruitless negotiations; and the only thing that +roused him to action was imminent ruin. Some +murmured that "professional soldiers love long +wars as physicians love long diseases." Some +whispered of treachery, and others of Divine +displeasure. The explosion of battle had come; but +the only consequence seemed to be the loosening of +the whole ground around, the crumbling away of +the nation in all directions. +</p> + +<p> +Partly, no doubt, this sense of vagueness and +dimness was caused by the absence from most +homes and communities of the most capable and +manly men in each,—in the garrisons, on the field, +taking counsel with the King at Oxford, or taking +counsel for the nation at Westminster. Thus events +were left to be guessed and debated by old men +despondent with the decay of many hopes; or +women, draining in anxious imaginations the dregs +of every peril they could not share in fact; or boys +delighting in magnifying the dangers they hoped +soon to encounter, therewith to magnify themselves +in the eyes of mothers and maids. +</p> + +<p> +Rachel Forster, on whose gentle strength the +whole village was wont to lean, was away; and +Aunt Dorothy, the manliest heart left among us, +had a belief in the general wickedness of men, and +the general going wrong of things in this evil +world, which was anything but reassuring to those +whose fears were quickened with the life-blood of +more vivid hopes than hers. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we were ripe for all kinds of credulities that +winter at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +I can remember nothing rising prominently out +of the general hum and fog except two convictions, +which enlarged before us steadily, becoming more +solid instead of more shadowy as they came nearer. +The first was the impossibility of trusting the King. +The second was that everything went right where +Colonel Cromwell was; for by this time he was +Colonel Cromwell, at the head of his regiment, +which he was slowly sifting and compressing into +the firm invincible kernel of his invincible army. +</p> + +<p> +A dim, dreary time it was for us from the Edgehill +Fight, in October, 1642, to the beginning of +February, 1643. Roger in prison at Oxford with +Job; my Father at Reading or in London with +Lord Essex and the army. +</p> + +<p> +But in the beginning of February a new time +dawned on us. My Father came home to us for a +few days, to make the old house as tight as he +could against any assaults from Lord Capel, or any +straggling party of Prince Rupert's plunderers, +who were always making dashing forays into the +counties favourable to the Parliament, and appearing +where they were least expected. The old moat, +which in front of the house had long been the +peaceful retreat of many generations of ducks, and +elsewhere had been partially blocked up with fallen +stones and trees, was carefully cleared out and filled +with water. The terraces which led to it on the +steep side of the house were scarped, all but the +uppermost, which was palisadoed, and had two +great guns planted on it. The drawbridge was +repaired, and ordered to be always drawn up at +night. We were provided with a garrison of four +of the farm-servants, drilled as best might be for +the occasion, and placed under the command of +Bob, which virtually placed the whole fortress under +the command of Tib, whose orders were the only +ones Bob was never known not to disregard. +Meantime my aunts and I, with the serving-maids, +were instructed how to make cartridges, and prepare +matches for the match-locks; and Aunt Gretel +gave us the benefit of her experience in pulling +lint, preparing bandages, and other hospital work. +</p> + +<p> +If an attack, however, were ever made, the general +belief in the household was that Aunt Dorothy +would take her place as commandant, her courage +being of the active rather than the passive kind. +Indeed, I think the sense of danger to ourselves +was a kind of relief to most of us. It seemed to +make us sharers in the great struggle, which we +believed to be for God, and truth, and righteousness. +It took us out of the position of uneasy +listeners for rumours into that of sentinels on the +alert for an attack. And the whole spirit of the +household rose from dreamy disquiet into cheery +watchfulness and activity. +</p> + +<p> +My Father brought us the story of the king's +attempt to surprise London. "It was a treacherous, +unkingly deed," my Father said, "enough to quench +in the heart of the people every spark of trust left +in His Majesty." +</p> + +<p> +He said it happened on this wise. On Thursday, +the 11th of November, 1642 (my father told us), +the king received messengers from the Commons +with proposals of peace, declared his readiness to +negotiate, and his intention to remain peaceably in +the same neighborhood till all was amicably settled. +The Parliament, trusting him, ceased hostilities. +Nevertheless, instantly after despatching this +message, he set off in full march for London. On +Saturday he sent forces under Prince Rupert to +surprise Brentford under cover of a November fog, +and of his own too loyally trusted word. But +Denzil Hollis, with part of his regiment, made a noble +stand, and stopped the Prince's progress. +</p> + +<p> +Hampden came up first, and Lord Brook, to the +succour of Hollis' imperilled regiment; they tried +to fight through the royal troops, which had +surrounded Hollis and his men in the streets of +Brentford. This they could not effect. But Hollis' little +band themselves fought to their last bullet, and then +threw themselves into the river, those who were +not drowned swimming past Prince Rupert's troops +to Hampden and his Greencoats. Lord Essex, +hearing the sound of guns in the Parliament House, +where he was at the time, took horse and galloped +across the parks and through Knightsbridge to the +scene of action. After this, all through the +Saturday night, soldiers came pouring out from the +roused city, until, on Sunday morning, four and +twenty thousand men were gathered on Turnham +Green. +</p> + +<p> +Then the tables were turned, and Hampden fell +on the king's rear. +</p> + +<p> +"And then?" asked Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"And then," replied my Father, drily, "Lord +Essex recalled him, and so nothing further came of +it; but things have gone on simmering ever since; +always getting ready, and discussing how things +should be done, and never doing them." +</p> + +<p> +"How do Mr. Hampden and Mr. Pym brook +these delays?" said Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Hampden would have had my Lord Essex +invest Oxford," said my Father, "but he is a +subordinate, and Lord Essex a veteran; and +Mr. Hampden, I trow, deems military obedience the +best example he can give an army scarce six months +recruited from the shop or the plough." +</p> + +<p> +"And meantime," said Aunt Dorothy, "I warrant +Prince Rupert is active enough. There is no end +to the tales of his devastations, seizing whole teams +from the plough, setting fire to quiet villages at +midnight, with I know not what iniquities besides, +and carrying home the spoil from twenty miles +around to the king's quarters at Oxford. If Lord +Essex does not want to fight the king, why does +not he submit to him? Keeping twenty-four +thousand men armed and fed at the public expense, and +doing nothing, is neither peace nor war to my +mind!" +</p> + +<p> +"True, sister Dorothy," said my Father, "I know +of no method by which war can be carried on in a +friendly way. And when Lord Essex has come to +the same conclusion, perhaps things will go a little +faster." +</p> + +<p> +"Will they ever, under Lord Essex?" said she. +</p> + +<p> +"Time will show," said he. "We have scarcely +found our Great Gustavus yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Colonel Cromwell has been doing something +better than dreaming what to do, at Cambridge, +since he saved the magazine there and £2,000 of +plate for the Parliament last June," said Aunt +Dorothy. "Troops are pouring up to him from +Essex and Suffolk, and all around, they say; and +Cambridge is being fortified; and they say it is +owing to Colonel Cromwell we are so quiet in these +seven counties." +</p> + +<p> +"Colonel Cromwell has a rare gift of sifting the +chaff from the wheat; finding out who can do the +work and setting them to do it," said my Father, +thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"So strict with his soldiers too," said Aunt +Dorothy. "They say the men are fined twelve pence if +they swear a profane oath." +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said my Father, "he is doing what he +told his cousin Mr. Hampden must be done, if ever +the Parliament army is to match the king's." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" said she. +</p> + +<p> +"Getting men of religion," my Father replied, +"to fight the men of birth. You will never do it," +said Colonel Cromwell, "with tapsters and 'prentice +lads. Match the enthusiasm of loyalty with the +enthusiasm of piety!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is strange," rejoined Aunt Dorothy, "that +Mr. Cromwell never discovered his right profession +before. A farmer till forty-three, and then all at +once to find out he was made for a soldier!" +</p> + +<p> +"What can make or find out soldiers but wars, +sister Dorothy?" said my Father. "Moreover, I +warrant Colonel Cromwell has known what it is to +wage other kinds of war before this. It is only +taking up new weapons. It is only the same +conflict for the oppressed against the oppressor, in +which he contended for those of the Fen country +against Royal assumption, and for the poor men of +Somersham against the courtiers who would have +ousted them from their ancient common-rights; or +for the gospel lecturers whom Archbishop Laud +silenced. The same war, only a new field and new +weapons. At any rate, I am glad the lad Roger is +to serve under him; and so you may tell him when +he gets his liberty and comes home, as I trust he +will in a fortnight." +</p> + +<p> +This was said as my Father was taking an early +breakfast alone with us in the Hall, with his horse +saddled at the door, ready to take him back to the +Lord General's quarters. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Rachel and Job Forster came home before Roger, +in Sir Walter Davenant's wagon, stored with provisions +and cordials, and soft pillows, by Lady Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +I believe every one in Netherby slept with a +greater feeling of security on the night after their +return. Poor Margery, Dickon's young wife, said +it was like the Ark coming back from the Philistines, +regardless of the slur she thereby cast on the +Royalist army, in which Dickon fought. And yet +there was nothing very reassuring in Job's appearance. +He looked like a gaunt ghost, and stumbled +into the cottage like a tottering infant, and rather +fell on the bed, which had been made up for him in +the kitchen, than lay down on it, so broken was +his strength. When the neighbours came in after +a while, however, he had a good word to hearten +each of them. As to Rachel, she settled in at once, +without more ado, to her old ways and plans, doing +everything with the purpose-like quietness which +so calms the sick. +</p> + +<p> +Cheered by Job's greetings to the neighbours, +she told me it was not until the place was still, and +she was making up the fire for the night, that she +knew how low his strength was. As she took the +wood from the pile he had made for her close to the +fire, she was startled, she told me, by a sound like +a stifled sob from where he lay. +</p> + +<p> +"Art laid uneasy?" said she, at his side in an +instant. "Does aught ail thee? Is the bed ill-made?" +</p> + +<p> +"Naught," said he. "It's better than the bed +of Solomon to me, with the pillars of silver and +the bottom of gold. But I am like to them that +dream, laughing and crying all in one. For I used +to think before thee come to the gaol, how I should +never see thee kindle a fire in the old place again, +and how every stick thee had to take from where +I laid it for thee would go to thy heart like a stab. +And it shamed me not to have made a better shot +at the Lord's meaning for thee and me." +</p> + +<p> +"How could thee tell His meaning," said Rachel, +"before He told thee? He gave thee no promise +to bring thee out of prison, nor me." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," said Job, "but it's making very bold +with Him, and making fools of ourselves, to guess +at His words when they're half spoken, instead of +waiting to hear them out. And it grieves me I +should have suspected Him when He was moaning +us so well. Read me what the Scripture saith about +the forgiveness of sins." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Mistress? Olive," concluded Rachel, when +she told me this little history, "when Elijah, worn +out with trouble, misunderstood the Lord, the angel +comforted him, not with a text, but with a cake +baken on the coals; so, when Job took to +misunderstanding the Almighty like that, thinking He +would be angered with what would not have fretted +one of the likes of us poor hasty creatures, instead +of the Bible I gave him a good cup of strong broth. +I knew it was the body, poor soul, and not the +spirit that was to blame, and that all those brave +words he spoke to the neighbours had cost more +than they were worth; and, of course, I was not +going to profane the Holy Word by using it like +the spell in a witch's charm." +</p> + +<p> +So for several days she kept every creature out of +the cottage, which deprived me of her counsel in a +moment of difficulty, which happened the week of +their return. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Capel's troops continued to hover round, +and to keep the district in a state of suspense and +alarm, ripe for any marvellous stories of horror, or +for any acts of terrified revenge. For in stormy +times there are sure to be some cowardly spirits +ready to throw any helpless victim as an expiatory +sacrifice to the powers of evil. +</p> + +<p> +One Saturday evening, late in February, I was +returning home through the village from Gammer +Grindle's cottage, which I had very often visited +since poor Tim's death. The old woman had seemed +gentler in her way of speaking of her neighbours, +and once or twice had betrayed her pleasure in +seeing me by speaking sharply to me if I stayed away +longer than usual, as if I had been one of her own +lost grandchildren. +</p> + +<p> +I had made rather a long circuit in returning, not +liking to try the high road again, because, in going, +I had encountered a dozen or so of the king's +troopers, and as I was hurrying past them, they +complimented me in a way I did not like, and came +after me. I recognized Sir Launcelot Trevor's +voice among them, and then I turned round and +spoke to him, and begged him to call his men away. +Which, when he recognized me, he did; but not +without some more idle Cavalier jesting, which set +my heart beating, and made me resolve to come +back by a quiet path through the Davenant woods, +which led round through the village by Job Forster's. +</p> + +<p> +Poor old Gammer was very friendly. I suppose +I was trembling a little, though I did not tell her +why, for she declared I was chattering with cold, +and would have me drink a hot cup of peppermint +water, and kindled up the fire, and took off my +shoes, which were wet, and dried them, wrapping +up my feet, meanwhile, in her own best woolsey +whimple. Indeed, she was so gracious and +approachable, that I ventured to say something about +the benefit of coming to church, and mingling a +little more with her neighbours. +</p> + +<p> +"Too late, too late for that!" said she, firing up. +"This twenty year, come Lammas, my Joan, Cicely's +mother, was buried, she and her man, Cicely's +father, in one grave. And the parson would do +nothing without his fee. So I sold the cover from +my bed to pay him. And I vowed I'd never darken +his church-door again." +</p> + +<p> +"But that parson is dead, Gammer," said I, "and +it was not his church after all." +</p> + +<p> +"That may be," said she. "But a vow is a vow. +Besides, I could never bear the folks' eyes speiring +at me. I'm ugly, and lone, and poor, and they +make mouths at me, and call me an old hag and a +witch. But it's only natural. All the brood will +peck at the lame chick. All the herd will leave the +stricken deer. Didn't all the village hoot and jeer +at my poor, tender, innocent Tim?" +</p> + +<p> +And then she poured forth the story of her life of +sorrow as I had never heard it before. A heart +trained to distrust and suspect through a childhood +of bondage under the petty tyrannies of a stepmother +and her children. One year of happy married +life, ending in a sudden widowhood, which +widowed her heart also of all its remnant of hope +in God, and left her to struggle prayerless and alone +with a hard world, for bread for herself and her +orphan babe. The growing up of this child to be a +stay and comfort, and, for three years, a second +home with her when she married. This second +home broken up as suddenly as the first, by the +death of the daughter and her husband in one month, +from a catching sickness, leaving the grandmother +once more alone to toil with enfeebled strength for +two orphan babes; the boy, poor, faithful Tim, +half-witted and sickly; the girl, Cicely, wilful and +high-spirited, and the beauty of the village. Then the +terrible morning when Cicely was gone, and no +account could be got of her beyond Tim's confused +and exulting statement, that Cicely had cried, and +laughed, and kissed him, and told him to wish +grandmother good-bye for her, and she would come back +a lady and bring Tim a gun like Master Roger's; +to Gammer Grindle tidings worse than bereavement +or all the misery she had known, for she came of a +truly honourable yeoman's house that had never +known shame. Tim, however, could never be +brought to look on his sister's disappearance in any +but the most cheerful light, and would watch for +hours at the corner of the path leading to the village +for Cicely and the "gun like Master Roger's," until, +as time passed on, the expectation seemed to fade +away, only to be awakened once again by the +mysterious touch of death. And since then not a word +of the poor lost girl. Tim in the grave, and the +vain longing that Cicely were there too. And all +the little world around her, as she believed, leagued +against her crushed but unconquered heart. She +ended with,— +</p> + +<p> +"But it's but natural. When the lightnings +have rent the trunk the winds soon snap the boughs. +They say the devil stands by me. If he did no one +need wish him for a friend. They say the Almighty +is against me. And most times I think belike +He is." +</p> + +<p> +Then Aunt Gretel's words came back to me, +"<i>Anywhere but there. Put the darkness anywhere but +there</i>;" and I said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Never, Gammer, never. The devil said that +thousands of years ago; but the Lord Christ came +to show what a lie it was. He stood by the stricken +and wounded always. The lame and the blind +came to Him in the temple, and he healed them." +</p> + +<p> +She listened as if she half believed, and then, after +a silence, she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"The devil is no easy enemy to deal with, mistress, +but if I could be sure it was only him, maybe +I might look up and try again." +</p> + +<p> +At last she was persuaded so far as to let me say +I might call for her the next Sunday on my way to +church. "It was as like as not she would not +go, but at any rate it would do her no harm to see +me." +</p> + +<p> +And as I left I heard something like a blessing +follow me, and I saw the poor, bent old figure +leaning out of the door and watching me. +</p> + +<p> +But when I came back to Netherby I found +the whole village at the doors in a ferment of eager +talk. +</p> + +<p> +I thought at once of Sir Launcelot and the troopers, +and asked if there had been another battle. +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, nay," said the woman I spoke to, "it's +naught but folks going to reap their deserts at +last." +</p> + +<p> +Then came a chorus of grievances. +</p> + +<p> +"Three of Farmer White's finest milch kine gone +in one night!" "Goodwife Joyce's best black hen +killed, and not a feather touched; no mortal fox's +work it was too plain to see!" "The dogs yelling +as if they were possessed, as belike they were, on +Saturday evening, seeing no doubt more than they +could tell, poor beasts, of what was going on in the +air!" "Lord Essex and his army lying spellbound, +able to do nothing, while the Prince Robber +was plundering the land far and wide!" "Job and +Master Roger, the best in the village, the first +stricken; too clear where the blows came from!" "And +to-day the squire's own cattle driven off the +meadow, with Mistress Nicholl's, by a troop of +plunderers, who came no one knew whence, and +had gone no one knew whither!" "And finally, +Tony Tomkin had been pursued by a headless +hound through the Davenant woods, where he had +only gone to take a rabbit or two he had snared, +and thought no harm, the family being away and +fighting against the country!" "And," but this +was muttered under the breath, "there were those +who said they had seen something that was not +smoke come out of Gammer Grindle's chimney—something +that flew away over the fens faster than +any bird. And this was only on last Saturday +night, and every one knew that Saturday was the +day of the witches' Sabbath ever since the Jews +had brought the innocent blood on their heads!" +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly it flashed on me what it all meant. +They were going to execute some dreadful vengeance +on Gammer Grindle, believing her to be one +of the witches who were causing all the mischief in +the land. +</p> + +<p> +It was no use to set myself against the torrent of +fear and rage, so I said as quietly as I could,— +</p> + +<p> +"What are they going to do, and when?" +</p> + +<p> +"First," was the reply, "they're going to duck +her in the Mere before her own door. If she sinks +they will pull her out if they can, as it mayn't be +her doings after all. If she swims she's a witch, +clear and plain." +</p> + +<p> +"And what then?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing too bad, Mistress Olive, for the like of +them. But the lads'll see when it comes to the +point. It isn't often their master helps the wretches +out at last, they say. And if she don't sink +natural, as a Christian ought, belike the lads'll +make her." +</p> + +<p> +"When did they go to do this?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"They're but just off," was the answer. "But +they'll make short work of it, never fear. It's +time a stop could be put to such things, if ever it +was." +</p> + +<p> +"If Rachel and Job had been among you this +would never have been," I thought. I longed to +have consulted Rachel, had it been possible. But +there was no time to hesitate. +</p> + +<p> +My first impulse was to rush after the cruel boys; +but I felt that in the maddened state of terror in +which the village was, they would most probably +keep me back. So, without saying a word or +visibly quickening my pace, I walked quietly on +towards home. +</p> + +<p> +In the porch I found Aunt Gretel. She was +watching for me. +</p> + +<p> +I took her arm, not violently, I was so afraid of +frightening her from doing what I had determined +must be done. And I said quite quietly,— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Gretel, we must go together this instant +to Gammer Grindle's." +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"I will tell you as we go," I said. "There is no +time to be lost." +</p> + +<p> +She came with me. I turned into the path by +the meadows. +</p> + +<p> +"Not this way, Olive," she said. "The plunderers +have been there to-day. Your Father's best +cattle are taken, and Placidia's." +</p> + +<p> +"If the cattle are gone, then belike so are the +plunderers," I said. "But if the king's whole army +were there we must take the shortest way." +</p> + +<p> +And I told her the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +She said nothing but,— +</p> + +<p> +"Then the good God guard us, sweetheart, and +don't waste your breath in words." +</p> + +<p> +We went quickly on. +</p> + +<p> +Only once I thought I heard shouts, and I said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Gretel, what do they do with witches at +the worst?" +</p> + +<p> +"They have roasted them alive," she said, under +her breath. And we said no more. +</p> + +<p> +As we came to the creek of the Mere, on the opposite +side of which the cottage was, we heard yells +and shouts too plainly borne across the water in the +stillness of the evening, unbroken by the lowing of +the stolen cattle which had been feeding there that +morning. And in another moment we saw the +reflection of torches gleaming in the water, as wo +stumbled along in the dusk among the reeds. I +listened eagerly for poor old Gammer's voice. But +I heard nothing. Indeed, my own heart began to +beat so fast, I could hear little but that. Until, +just as we reached the cottage, there was a dull +splash, and then a silence. It was followed by a +low moan, but by no cry. They were drowning +the poor old woman, and the brave broken heart +would vouchsafe them the triumph of no entreaty +for mercy and no cry of distress! I knew it as if I +saw it. And the next moment I had flown along +the shore and was in the midst of the crowd on the +brink of the water, clinging with one hand round +the stem of an alder, and stretching out the other +till it grasped the poor shrivelled hands which had +caught at the branches which drooped over the +water. +</p> + +<p> +"Cling to me, Gammer!—to me, Olive Drayton! +I am holding fast—cling to me!" +</p> + +<p> +I was scarcely prepared for the desperate tenacity +of the grasp which returned mine. I never felt till +that moment what it means to cling to Life. My +other arm held firm, but the bank was oozy and +slippery, and I felt as if I were losing my power, +when at that instant Aunt Gretel came and knelt +beside me, and clutching Gammer Grindle's dress, +between us we dragged her to land. +</p> + +<p> +Then the second part of the work of rescue began, +and the hardest. +</p> + +<p> +The men, or rather lads (for they were few of +them more), who formed the crowd, had been startled +into inaction by our sudden appearance among +them; but now they began to mutter angrily, and +would have pushed us rudely away, saying "it was +no matter for women to meddle in. They had not +come there for nothing, and they would have it out. +The whole country-side should not be laid waste to +save one wicked old witch, that no one had a good +word to say for." +</p> + +<p> +By this time Gammer Grindle had recovered so +far as to rise out of that mere instinct of +self-preservation with which she had desperately clung to me. +And disengaging herself from me, she said, standing +erect and facing her assailants,— +</p> + +<p> +"Let me alone, Mistress Olive. They say right. +They are all gone who would have said a good +word for me. Let me go to them." +</p> + +<p> +Two of the men seized her again. +</p> + +<p> +"Confess!" said one of them, shaking her rudely; +"confess, and we'll leave you to the justices. If +not you shall try the water once more to sink or +swim." +</p> + +<p> +And they dragged her again to the brink. The +touch of the cold oozing water made the horror and +weakness come over her again. Her courage +forsook her, and she cried like the feeble old woman +she was,— +</p> + +<p> +"Have pity on me, neighbours. I'll confess +anything, if you'll leave me alone—anything I can. +I've been a sinful old woman, and the Lord's against +me; the Lord's against me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Hear her, mistress," said the men with a cry of +triumph; "she'll confess anything. She says the +Almighty's against her. It isn't fit such should +live." +</p> + +<p> +They were forcing her on; her poor, patched, +thin garments tore in my hands as I clung to them. +Aunt Gretel, driven to the end of her English, as +usual with her in strong emotion, was pouring forth +entreaties and prayers in German, when I caught +sight of a Netherby lad well known as the pest of +the village, and the ringleader in all mischief. He +was carrying a torch. I caught his arm and looked +in his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Tony Tomkin," I said, "Squire Drayton shall +know of this, and it shall not be unpunished. It is +your wickedness, and such as yours, that brings the +trouble on us all, and not Gammer Grindle's. God +is angry with you, Tony, for breaking your little +brother's head, and idling away your time, while +your poor mother toils her life away to get you +bread. You will not give up your hearts to be good +like brave men, which is the only sacrifice God will +have; and instead, like a pack of cowards, you are +sacrificing a poor helpless old woman to the devil. +Isn't there one man here with the heart of a man in +him? What harm can the devil do you, much less +a witch, if you please God? And which of you +thinks God will be pleased by a troop of you slinking +here in the dark to murder a helpless old woman +at her own door? Can none of you lads of Netherby +remember poor Tim, and how he died for Master +Roger, and how good she was to him? Or can't +you trust Squire Drayton to do justice, and leave +her to him?" +</p> + +<p> +Tony let his torch fall and slunk back. Then two +Netherby men came forward and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"She's right; Mistress Olive is right! Squire +Drayton'll see justice done." +</p> + +<p> +Two or three others joined them. The cry arose, +"No one shall touch the old woman to-night, as +long as there's any Netherby lads to hinder it." +</p> + +<p> +A scuffle ensued, during which Aunt Gretel and +I got hold of Gammer Grindle once more, and led +her back into the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Once there, we barricaded the door with the logs +and fagots which formed Gammer's store of firewood, +and felt safe. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not until the angry voices had quite +died away in the distance, and we heard again the +quiet plashing of the water among the rushes, that +we could quiet the poor old woman so that she +would let go her clasp of our hands. Then she let +us kindle a fire, and wrap her in warm dry things. +</p> + +<p> +We wanted to lay her in a clean comfortable bed +which was made in the corner of the hut. But this +she would not suffer. "It is Cicely's," she said. +"It's not for me." So we had to pack her up as +comfortably as we could upon the heap of straw +and rags laid on an old chest, which was her bed. +</p> + +<p> +There she lay quite still for a long time, while +Aunt Gretel and I sat silent by the fire, hoping she +would sleep. +</p> + +<p> +But in about an hour she said, in a quiet voice— +</p> + +<p> +"Take away those logs from the door." +</p> + +<p> +I went to her bedside. +</p> + +<p> +"In the morning, Gammer," I said, "when it is +quite safe." +</p> + +<p> +"This moment!" said she, starting up any trying +to walk. But the terrors of the night had made +her so faint and feeble, that she fell helplessly back. +</p> + +<p> +"This moment, Mistress Olive!" she repeated, in +a faint querulous voice, very unlike her usual sharp +firm tones—"this moment! The poor maid might +come and try the door, and go away, and never +come again. I've been sharp with her, I know, +and she might be afraid, not knowing, poor lamb, +how I watch for her." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel went to the door and began to unpile +the logs. +</p> + +<p> +"God will care for us, Olive," said she with a +faltering voice. "He will know and care; He who +never closes the door against us." +</p> + +<p> +And gently we withdrew the logs which formed +our protection. +</p> + +<p> +"Set the light in the window," Gammer said. +</p> + +<p> +By the window she meant a rough crevice in the +wall, with a canvas curtain hung before it. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel ventured a little remonstrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Hardly that to-night," said she. "It might +guide any evil-disposed people here." +</p> + +<p> +"It will guide her, and what does it matter for +anything else?" said Gammer Grindle, almost +fiercely. "She knew there was always a light +burning, and if she saw none, she might think I +was dead, and turn away." +</p> + +<p> +And the lamp was placed in the window. +</p> + +<p> +Then another long silence, broken again by +Gammer. +</p> + +<p> +"What'll they think's come to you, my +mistresses? What a selfish old woman I've been. +Why didn't I let them do for me, and be quiet. I +never knew before what fear was. I've wished to +die scores of times; but when death came near, I +clung to life like a drowning dog or cat, and never +cared who I pulled in to save myself. I never +thought I should live to be such a pitiful old +coward. But the Lord's against me," she cried, going +back to her old wail—"the Lord's against me. +Everybody says so, and it must be true. He not +only leaves me to be drowned; He leaves me also +to be as selfish and wicked as I will. The Lord's +against me. Why did you try to save me? I must +fall into His hands at last!" +</p> + +<p> +This was exactly what Aunt Gretel never could +hear with patience. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a little better than those bad men, my +dear woman," said she. "You, none of you, can +see the difference between the good God and the +devil. You talk of falling into His hands, as if His +arms were hell. And all the while He is stretching +out His arms that you may fall on His heart. You +slander, grandmother, you slander God!" she added. +</p> + +<p> +"He is not against you; you are against Him." +</p> + +<p> +"Much the same in the end," moaned poor +Gammer, "if we're going against each other." +</p> + +<p> +"It is not the same," said Aunt Gretel. "You +can turn and go with Him, and He will not have to +drive you home. You can bow under his yoke, and +you will not feel it heavy. You can bow under +His rod, and you will find it comfort you as much +as His staff." +</p> + +<p> +"Not so easy, mistress," said Gammer, after a +pause. "I have turned from Him so long, how can +I know if I should have a welcome?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is what Cicely is waiting for, Gammer," +I whispered, kneeling down beside. "But the door +is open and the light is burning for her. If she +could only know! if she could only have a glimpse +<i>inside</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"If she could only know!" murmured the poor +old woman, her eyes moistening as she turned from +the thought of her own sorrows to those of her lost +child. +</p> + +<p> +And she said no more. But there was something +in the quiet of her face which made me hope that +she herself had got a "glimpse inside." +</p> + +<p> +And soon afterwards she fell asleep. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel and I were left to our watch. Then, +for the first time, when we ceased to watch for sleep +to come over the poor exhausted aged frame, I +began to watch the noises outside, and feel a creeping +horror as I listened to the slow cold plashing of +the water among the rushes, and the soughing, and +wailing, and whistling of the wind among the +leafless boughs of the wood behind us. There was +one gnarled old oak especially, just outside the +house, whose dry boughs creaked in the wind as if +they had been dead beams instead of living branches. +</p> + +<p> +Often I thought I heard long sighs and wailings +as of human voices, and with difficulty persuaded +myself that it was fancy. But at last there came +sounds which could not be mistaken—low whistles, +and short, peculiar cries, responded to by others, +until we became sure that a number of men must be +moving about in the darkness around us. At first +Aunt Gretel and I thought it must be the +witch-finders come again for Gammer Grindle, and very +softly we replaced the logs to barricade the door. +</p> + +<p> +But other sounds began to mingle with those of +human voices, like the lowings of cattle forcibly +driven. Suddenly I remembered my encounter that +very morning with the royal troopers, which, with +all that happened since, seemed weeks distant. +</p> + +<p> +"It is Sir Launcelot and the plunderers!" I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"That accounts for their not sending after us," +said Aunt Gretel. "They have tried to reach us, +no doubt, and cannot." +</p> + +<p> +And we listened again. +</p> + +<p> +Then came something like a soft knock and a low +cry, which seemed close to the door, and a heavy +thud as of something falling. But, though we +listened breathlessly, no second sound came; and +the old stories of supernatural horrors haunting the +place crept back to us, and kept us motionless. +</p> + +<p> +By this time the dawn was slowly creeping in, +and making the lamp in the window red and dim. +</p> + +<p> +We sat crouching close together by the embers +of the dying fire, and took each others' hands, and +listened. +</p> + +<p> +The voices came nearer, till we could plainly +distinguish them, and with them the sound of +trampling: feet of men and horses, and then of men +springing from the saddle and approaching the +hut. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the old witch's den," a gruff voice said; +"she's burning a candle to the devil. No one ever +got good by going near her." +</p> + +<p> +Then a laugh, and Sir Launcelot Trevor's mocking +voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"One would think you were a Roundhead, from +the respect with which you mention the old enemy's +name. At all events, witches don't live, like saints, +on air and prayers. We'll get some warmth and +comfort this bitter night out of the old hag's stores. +Some sack or malmsey, perchance, and a fat capon +or two bewitched from good men's cellars and +larders. Stay here, if you are afraid. And I will +storm this witch's castle for you," And his long +heavy stride approached the door. We sat with +beating hearts, expecting the rickety door to be +shaken or forced in by a strong hand. But instead, +the steps suddenly ceased, and the intruder seemed +to start back as if struck by an invisible hand on +the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was an exclamation of amazement +and horror, ending in a fearful oath in a low deep +tone, very different from Sir Launcelot's usual +bravado. Afterwards a few hasty retreating steps, +and as he rejoined his men, some words in the old +light tone, but hurried and wild as of one overacting +his part. +</p> + +<p> +"Belike you are right, lads. Black art or white, +better keep to beer of mortal brewing than seize +anything from a witch's caldron, or touch anything +of a witch's brood. Besides, the country will be +awake, and it's as well we were in safe quarters +with the booty. Steady, and look out tor pitfalls +in this cursed place." +</p> + +<p> +After which there was a splashing of horses' feet +on the reedy margin of the Mere. Then a heavy +trampling as they reached firmer ground, succeeded +by a sharp gallop across the meadow, until every +sound was lost in the distance, and we were left in +the silence to listen once more to the cold plashing +of the water among the rushes, and to the breathing +of poor old Gammer in her heavy sleep, as we +watched the slow breaking of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +We had not sat half an hour after the last tramp +of the horsemen had died away, when we heard a +faint sound as of something stirring on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel laid her hand on mine. +</p> + +<p> +"What made Sir Launcelot turn back, Olive?" +she whispered. "He is scarcely a man likely to +dream dreams or see visions." +</p> + +<p> +By one impulse we softly removed the logs with +which we had barricaded the door, and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a rude porch outside to keep off the +beat of the weather, and under it a low seat where +Gammer used to sit in summer and carry on any +work that needed more light than could be had in +the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Across this lay stretched, in a death-like swoon, +the form of a woman. She was half kneeling, half +prostrate, her head towards the door, resting on the +seat, one arm beneath it, the other fallen helpless +by her side, half hidden in a heavy mass of long +hair. A puny little child lay cuddled up close to +her, clasping the unconscious form with both arms, +asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The features were sharp as with age, and pallid +as with the touch of death, and the long soft hair +was gray, but it was still easy to recognise in the +sharp and altered face what memories it had brought +back to Sir Launcelot, and why that poor faded +form had guarded her threshold from him better +than an army of fiends. +</p> + +<p> +It was the flaming sword of conscience which had +guarded us that night. +</p> + +<p> +Poor pallid wasted face, so terrible in its mute +reproach! +</p> + +<p> +We took her up between us. It was easy. She +was light enough to carry. We laid her on the old +bed which her grandmother had kept always ready +for her. Aunt Gretel loosened her dress and chafed +her hands, while I took the poor puny child to the +fire to keep it quiet while I made some warm drink +to revive the mother. +</p> + +<p> +But the poor sickly little one was not easily to +be quieted. In spite of all my soothing it awoke, +and began wailing for mammy. Perhaps, after all, +the best restorative! The sharp fretful cry aroused +the mother from her swoon, and the grandmother +from her heavy sleep. +</p> + +<p> +In another instant the old woman was kneeling +by the poor girl's bedside, clasping and fondling +her, and calling her by tender, endearing, childish +names, such as no one at Netherby would have +dreamed could have poured forth from Gammer +Grindle's lips. The first words Cicely spoke when +she fully recovered consciousness and sate up (her +beautiful large gray eyes gleaming from her faded +hollow cheeks like living souls among a pale troop +of ghosts), were,— +</p> + +<p> +"Gammer, I heard him—I heard his voice. +Where is he? I thought I saw his face. But it +was dusk, and faces change. But voices will be +the same, I think, even in heaven or in hell. And +I heard his voice, the same as when he called me +darling and wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Wife!" said the old woman, starting and standing +erect. "Say that again, Cicely." +</p> + +<p> +"All in vain, Gammer!" she said, with a slow +hopeless tone. "With the priest and the ring! +But it was all false. He told me so when it was +too late. He said I must have known. But how +was I to know, Gammer? I trusted him; I trusted +him. Yet, perhaps, I ought to have known better, +Gammer? I suppose it must have been wicked of +me. Every one seems to think it was." +</p> + +<p> +"Not me, sweetheart!" the old woman cried; +"never me! Thank God, my lamb comes back to me +as pure as she went. Thank God, Cicely my darling, +thank God, sweetheart, and take courage. If all +the cruel world hunted my lamb to death and cried +shame on her, there's one in the world who knows +she's as pure as the sweetest lady that ever trod +the church floor in her bride's white, with her path +strewn with roses." Then, taking the child in her +arms, and cuddling it to her, she added, "And thy +child's as much a crown of joy to thee and me, +Cicely, as to any lady in the land. Take courage, +sweetheart. What does all the world matter, if +grandmother knows; and Him that's above, +darling," she added, in a voice faltering again into +feebleness. "For He is above, Cicely, and He's not +against us, for He's brought thee home." +</p> + +<p> +All this time the old woman and Cicely had +seemed quite unconscious of our presence, as we sat +in a shadowed corner of the dark old hut, keeping +as quiet as sobs would let us. But when the poor +girl was calmed by the long-forgotten relief of a +burst of tears on a heart that trusted her, she +looked up and around with a quieter glance, and began +to ask again how it could be that she had heard the +voice. +</p> + +<p> +Then I stepped forward to explain. +</p> + +<p> +She started, and covered her face with her hands, +as if she would have hidden herself. +</p> + +<p> +"It's only me, Cicely, Olive Drayton," I said, as +plainly as I could for weeping. "You've come +back among those that know you and trust you, +Cicely." +</p> + +<p> +Then, after giving her such explanation as I could +of the events of the night, and after Aunt Gretel +had made up the fire, we bade them farewell, and +left the three together to go over the mournful +history that lay between their meetings; while +we hastened away to assure those at home of our +safety. +</p> + +<p> +"What a night, Aunt Gretel!" I said, as we went. +"It seems like a life-time." +</p> + +<p> +"Things come often thus in life," said she, "as +far as I have seen; the fruits ripened through the +long silent year, reaped in a day." I scarcely +understood her then, but since, I have often thought +she was right. Sowing-times and growing-times, +long, silent, underground; and then bursts of +flowering days, reapings and gatherings; a life-time in +a day; a thousand long-prepared events bursting +into flower in a moment. A thousand ghosts of +forgotten deeds gathered together and confronting +us at one point. The probation thousands of years; +the Judgment a day. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy was a little doubtful as to our +having too much commerce with Gammer Grindle +or Cicely. "If Gammer was not a witch," said she, +"which God forbid—though that there are witches +who ill-wish cattle, and ride on broom-sticks, is as +certain as there are wandering stars and sea-serpents; +at all events it is a solemn warning to every +one on the danger of not going to church like your +neighbours. And if Cicely was not as bad as had +been feared—for which God be praised—she was +nevertheless an awful example of the danger of +dancing round May-poles, and wearing bits of +ribbons and roses on your head." +</p> + +<p> +But when Job heard of it, his anger was greatly +kindled. +</p> + +<p> +"One would think," said he, "the Book of Job +had been put into the Apocrypha, that men who +profess themselves Christians should go worrying +the afflicted like Zophar, Bildad, and Eliphaz, +heaping coals on the devil's furnace. Witches there +were, no doubt, poor wretches, or they could not +have been hanged and burned, although for the most +part he believed the devil was too good a general +to let his soldiers waste their time in cavalcading +about on broom-sticks. But, be that as it might, it +was ill work piling wood on fires that were hot +enough already, especially when you could not be +sure who had kindled the flames. The only comfort +was, that after all the devil was nothing more +than the Almighty's furnace-heater. All his toil only +went to heating it to the right point to fuse the +silver. The Master would see that none of the true +metal was lost." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At the end of February, Roger came to us. He +was pale with prison-air and meagre from prison-fare, +and the hair had grown on his upper lip. In +my eyes he had gained far more than he had lost. +His eyes had a look of purpose and command in +them, pleasant to yield to; though little enough of +command had he exercised during the last four +months, except, indeed, that command of himself +which is true obedience, and lies at the root of all +true command. +</p> + +<p> +He was even less given than of old to long +narratives or orations of any kind. +</p> + +<p> +The history of what he had seen and heard dropped +from him in broken sentences, as he went about +seeing to various little plans for strengthening the +defences of the house, or as he repaired or cleaned +his arms in the evening. Of what he had suffered +he said nothing, except to make light of it in +answer to any questioning of mine. More than once +he mentioned, in a few brief words, Lady Lucy's +kindness. But he did not speak at all of Lettice +except once, when we were all sitting together +round the Hall fire—Aunt Dorothy, Aunt Gretel, +and I—when he said carelessly, as if he had just +remembered it by accident,— +</p> + +<p> +"Mistress Lettice told me she had read the sermons +you gave her, Aunt Dorothy. And she sent +you her love, Olive." +</p> + +<p> +"There are gracious dispositions in the child," +said Aunt Dorothy. "I have been sure of it for a +long time." +</p> + +<p> +And I ventured after a little while to say,— +</p> + +<p> +"She sent me her love, Roger, and was that all?" +</p> + +<p> +"Her dear love, I think it was," said he dryly, as +if the adjective made little difference in the value +of the substantive. +</p> + +<p> +"And she said no more, Roger? Not one message?" +</p> + +<p> +"I only saw her for ten minutes, Olive," said he, +a little impatiently, "and most of the time she was +talking to a little French poodle, a little wretch with +wool like a sheep and eyes like glass-beads." +</p> + +<p> +"You are hard on the poor child, Roger," said +Aunt Dorothy; "consider her bringing up. I warrant +she never spun a web, or learned a chapter in +Proverbs through in her life. What can you +expect from a mother who is a friend of the Popish +queen, and, I am only too sure, wears false hair and +paint?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy," said he, firing up, "the Lady +Lucy is as near a ministering angel as any creature +I ever wish to see. And if it were not so, it's not +for me, who have lived on her bread and on her +kind looks for months, to hear a word against her." +</p> + +<p> +And Roger arose, and strode out of the hall and +across the court, whistling for Lion; leaving Aunt +Dorothy in perplexity as to whether he were more +aggrieved with her for defending Lettice or for +assailing Lady Lucy, and me in equal perplexity as +to how I could ever venture to introduce Lettice's +name again, longing as I did to hear more of her. +</p> + +<p> +"You never saw Lettice after she gave you that +message?" I ventured at last to say one day when +we were walking alone together. +</p> + +<p> +"How could I, Olive?" said he, "I went away +instantly; except indeed," he added, "when I +happened to look back, as I was leaving the court, I +saw her standing at the window with that poodle +in her arms. But I did not look again, for at the +same moment Sir Launcelot Trevor came out of +another door, looking as if he were, as no doubt he +is, quite at home in the place with them all." +</p> + +<p> +"O Roger," I said, "some of us ought to write +to Lady Lucy at once to say how wicked he is!" +</p> + +<p> +"What is the use, Olive?" said he, sadly. "It +is not from us, rebels and traitors, she will believe +evil of a good Cavalier. Least of all from me or +mine about Sir Launcelot!" he added, in a lower +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"But he may be deceiving them all," I said, +passionately. "It is a sin to let him. Can nothing +be done? Have you never thought of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"You had better ask me could I think of nothing +else, Olive?" said he. "For I had to ask myself +that many times as I paced up and down in prison, +and knew about it all. And the more I thought, +the more helpless I saw we were about it." +</p> + +<p> +"And what did you decide on at last?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I decided that <i>this was what the Civil War cost</i>," +he replied; "not battles and loss of limb or life +only, but misunderstandings and loss of friends. +To have all we say and do reported to those we +love best through those who think the worst of us, +and to have no power of saying a word in justification +or explanation. To be identified with the +worst men and the most violent acts on our side, +and, in loyalty to the principles of our party, not +to be able to disown them. To see often the +people we love best estranged more and more from the +principles we hold dearest; and to watch a great +gulf widening between us which no voice of man +can reach across." +</p> + +<p> +"I feel sure nothing and no one could make Lettice +think harshly of us, Roger," I exclaimed; "I +feel as sure as if I had been speaking to her yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +"How can it be otherwise, Olive?" said he, +"especially when I am under Colonel Cromwell. You +should have seen the little start and scornful look +she gave when I mentioned his name. 'Colonel!' +said she, almost under her breath, as if she were +talking only to that poodle. But I heard her +There is no one the Cavaliers hate like him." +</p> + +<p> +"It seems almost a pity you must be with him!" +I said, thinking only of Roger and Lettice. +</p> + +<p> +"A pity, Olive!" said he, flashing up. "The +Cavaliers hate Colonel Cromwell, because wherever +he is there is doing instead of debating. And for +what better reason can we hold to him? If we +fight at all, it is because we believe there is +something worth fighting for to be lost or won; and +where Colonel Cromwell is, it is won. The country +he defends is defended; the city he holds is +held; the men he trains fight; and, thank God, my +lot is with him, to defend the old liberties under him, +Olive, or, if he fails, to find new liberty in the New +England across the seas." +</p> + +<p> +The next day Roger went off to join his regiment +at Cambridge, where Colonel Cromwell was. +</p> + +<p> +How silent and languid the old house seemed +when he left us, without his firm, soldier-like tread +clearing the stairs at a few bounds, and his whistle +to the dogs, and his voice singing with a firm precision, +like the tramp of a regiment, snatches of the +grave, grand old psalm tunes which the Ironsides +loved to march to! +</p> + +<p> +A fortnight afterwards, Job Forster followed +him. And then came again months of listening +and waiting, and of contradictory rumours, ending +too often in ill-tidings worse than the worst we had +feared. +</p> + +<p> +For that whole year brought little but disaster to +the Parliament troops. Day after day in that +yellow old Diary of mine is marked with black tidings +of defeat and death. +</p> + +<p> +First comes— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 18.—Mr. Hampden wounded in trying to +keep off Prince Rupert's plunderers, until Lord +Essex came. Lord Essex did not come in time, and +Mr. Hampden went off the field sorely wounded. +They say he felt himself death-stricken, and turned +his horse towards the house of his first wife, whom +he loved so dearly, that he might die there. But +his strength failed. It was as much as he could do +to make one last effort, and spurring his horse over +a little brook which bounded the field, to find his +way to the nearest village, and home. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 24.—Mr. Hampden died, thinking to the +last more of his country than himself. In the +midst of terrible pain he wrote (my Father tells us) +to entreat Lord Essex to act with more vigour, and +to collect his forces round London. He received +the sacrament, and spoke with affection of the +services of the Church of England, although not +altogether so of her bishops. He received the Lord's +Supper, and for himself looked humbly and +peacefully to God. But for England his heart looked +sorrowfully onward. And his last words were, +'Lord, have mercy on my bleeding country;' and +then another prayer, the end not heard by mortal +ears. My Father writes: 'His love for his country +will scarce fail in the better country whither he is +gone. But his counsel and all his slowly garnered +treasures of wisdom are lost to us for ever.'" +</p> + +<p> +The next death marked is— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>September</i> 20.—A battle at Newbury, in +Gloucestershire. Lord Falkland killed. Once +Hampden's friend, and now (must it not be?) his friend +again. A good man, and gentle, and wise, they +say. I wonder how it all looks and sounds there +where they are gone." +</p> + +<p> +And the next— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>November</i>.—Mr. Pym is dead. They have buried +him among the kings in Westminster Abbey. I +wonder how many of the people who began the war +will be fighting at the end of it, and whether they +will be fighting for the same things as when they +began." +</p> + +<p> +Then, mixed up with these notices of the dead, +are long accounts of skirmishes and fights, which +every one thought all-important then, but which no +one thinks of now, save those who have their beloved +dead lying beneath the fields where they were +fought. +</p> + +<p> +And through it all a steady going downward and +downward of the Parliament cause, from that fatal +June, 1643, when Hampden died, to near the close +of the following year. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 30, 1643.—The Fairfaxes defeated at +Atherton Moor. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July 13</i>.—Sir William Waller (once vainly +boasted of as William the Conqueror) defeated, and +his army scattered, in Lansdowne. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 22.—Prince Rupert took Bristol." +</p> + +<p> +And so the war surged away to the Royalist +West and Royalist North, until in all the West +Country not a city was left to the Parliament but +Gloucester; and in the North Country, not a city +but Hull, which the Hothams had been baffled in +an attempt to betray to the king; whilst in the +counties between, Prince Rupert and the plunderers +were having it much their own way. Very evil +times we thought them. And many different reasons +were assigned for the failure of the good cause. +Aunt Dorothy feared it was a punishment for a +licentious spirit of toleration to zealots and sectaries, +and the sins of the Independents. The zealous +preacher who came from Suffolk occasionally to +expound at Job Forster's meeting, was sure it was +carnal compromise lording it over God's heritage, +and the sins of the Presbyterians. And Rachel +believed it was the sins of us all, and of herself in +particular, who had, she considered, been too much like +Ananias and Sapphira, in that she had professed to +give the whole price to God and then would fain +have kept back the half, having indulged the +deceitful hope that Job was so wounded as never to +be able to go to the wars again. +</p> + +<p> +Placidia and Mr. Nicholls were much "exercised." Especially +since the loss of the three parsonage +cows, which were (by what Aunt Dorothy +considered a very solemn warning to Placidia) swept +off with my Father's by the plunderers from the +meadow by the Mere. "There were two texts," +said Placidia, "which had always seemed to her +exceedingly hard to reconcile. One was, 'Godliness +hath promise of the life which now is as well +as of that which is to come.' And the other, +'Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth.' What +could be done with texts so exceedingly difficult to +reconcile as these?" +</p> + +<p> +To which Aunt Dorothy replied,— +</p> + +<p> +"Give up trying to reconcile them at all, my +dear. Let them fight, as frost and heat do, fire and +water, sunshine and storm; and out of the strife +come the flower and the fruit, spring-time and +harvest, which shall never cease. Not that I see any +difficulty in it. The promise is not meadows or +cows, but grace and peace. The perplexity is over +when you make up your mind that what you want +is not to feel warm for a day or two, but to have +things grow; not a few sunny hours, but the harvest." +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps among us all, the person least perplexed +by these continued disasters was Aunt Gretel; +because, leaving the whole field of politics as +altogether too complicated for her to comprehend, she +continued to see only the links which bind every +day to the Eternal Day, and every event to the +hand of the merciful Father; and thus her chief +wonders ever were the pity which forgave so many +sins, and the love which provided so many mercies. +Overlooking all the battles and skirmishes around +us, she saw but one Battle and one Battle-field, and +but two Captains. Overlooking all the subordinate +divisions of nations and parties, she saw only a +flock and a Shepherd, and the Shepherd calling each +one by one, from the Great Gustavus to little Cicely +and poor Tim; folded, one, in the heavenly fold of +which he knew nothing till he was in it, and the +other in the poor earthly house which she and her +child and her grateful love had made, once more, a +home and a refuge for poor old Gammer. For since +Cicely's return, Gammer's broken links with her +fellow-creatures began to be knit again; and more +than one at Netherby took Job's words to heart. +The broad shield of her love and welcome which +she threw around the wanderer had shielded herself. +</p> + +<p> +But side by side with the doleful records in my +Diary run two series of letters full of victory and +hope. +</p> + +<p> +One was to my Father from Dr. Antony, who +spent most of that period in London. And there, +throughout all these disasters, the courage of the +citizens seemed never to fail. +</p> + +<p> +When Lord Essex returned from Edgehill with +very doubtful success, which he had entirely failed +to convert into lasting gain by his hesitations and +delays, London, of as brave and generous a heart +as old Rome, voted him £5,000. +</p> + +<p> +When Bristol fell before Prince Rupert, and every +city in the west save Gloucester fell into the hands +of the king, and Lord Essex timidly recommended +accommodation with His Majesty, and the Lords +would have petitioned him, the Commons, the +Preachers, and the citizens (knowing that no +accommodation with the king could be relied on +unless secured by victory) rejected all such wavering +thoughts. The shops were all shut for some days, +not to make holiday, but for solemn fasting. These +days were spent in the churches, and the people +came forth from them ready for any sacrifice for +the eternal truth and the ancient liberty. It was +determined to surround London with entrenchments. +Knights and dames went forth, spade in +hand, to the beat of drum, to share in the digging +of the trenches, and to hearten others to the work. +And in a few days twelve miles of entrenchment +were dug. Whereof we heard His Majesty took +notice, and lost heart thereby. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout all those adverse times London never +lost heart. Plate and jewels kept pouring into the +Parliament's treasury at Guildhall. Time spent by +the 'prentices in the Parliament army was ruled to +count as time served in their trades. And jests +against the courage of men bred in streets and +trained behind counters lost their point. Dr. Antony's +letters through all that dreary time had the +cheer and stir of a triumphal march in them, +although he had no triumphs to relate, but only +defeats borne with the courage which repairs them, +and although he himself went to the battle-field +not to wound but to bind up wounds. +</p> + +<p> +The other series of letters was from Roger. And +these cheered us, because they always told of +victory. They were brief, and mostly written from +the battle-field, to assure us at once of victory and +safety. They crossed the dark shadows of my +Diary like sunbeams. In June, when we were +mourning over the death of Hampden, and over +the slow debates of the Lord-General what to do +first for the bleeding country, wounded in every +part by the stabs of plunderers and reckless +Cavaliers, came Roger's first letter, delayed on its way, +dated, "Grantham, 18th May, 1643." It spoke of +a glorious victory won that day against marvellous +odds of number, the enemy running away for three +miles, four colours taken, and forty-five prisoners, +and many prisoners rescued. Again in July, when +we were bewailing the Fairfaxes defeated at +Atherton Moor in the north, Sir William Waller's army +routed at Lansdowne Heath in the west, and Bristol +lost, Roger was writing us, on the 31st, news +from Gainsborough of a "notable victory with a +chase of six miles." +</p> + +<p> +Mingled with these good tidings were sayings +which Roger had heard of Colonel Cromwell's. +Some of these sayings were like proverbs, so closely +did the word fit the thought. Others had in them +the ring of a war-song, as when he wrote to the +Commissioners at Cambridge. "You see by this +enclosed how sadly your affairs stand. It's no +longer disputing, but out instantly all you can. +Raise all your bands; send them to Huntingdon; +get up what volunteers you can; hasten your horses. +Send these letters to Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex +without delay. I beseech you, spare not. You must +act lively; do it without distraction. Neglect no +means." Yet often it seemed, when you listened +to Colonel Cromwell, as if it were by some +marvellous accident his thoughts did ever tumble into +their right clothes, so strangely did they come +lumbering out. But every now and then, if you +had patience, amidst the rattling of the rough +stones and pebbles, flashed a sentence, sharp cut +and brilliant as a diamond, although, apparently, as +unconscious of its polish and sharpness as the rest +of their uncouth ness. "Subtilty may deceive you, +integrity never will;" "Truly, God follows us with +encouragements, who is the God of blessings; and +I beseech you, let him not lose his blessing upon +us! They come in season, and with all the advantages +of heartening, as if God should say, 'Up and +be doing, and I will stand by you and help you!' There +is nothing to be feared but our own sin and +sloth." "If I could speak words to pierce your +hearts with the sense of our and your condition, I +would. It may be difficult to raise so many men +in so short time; but let me assure you it's necessary, +and, therefore, to be done." "God hath given +reputation to our handful (the Ironsides), let us +endeavour to keep it. I had rather have a plain, +russet-coated captain that knows what he fights for, and +loves what he knows, than that which you call 'a +gentleman' and nothing else. I honour a gentleman +that is so indeed." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet," said Roger in one of his letters, "it gives +you little knowledge of what the Colonel is to +extract these bits of his sayings, and make them +emphatic, as if he meant them for epigrams, when the +force is that they are said without force; the +thought and purpose in him, which always go to +the point in deeds, from time to time flashing +straight to the point in words, which are then as +strong as other men's deeds. But this I know, +when he says of us, 'We never find our men so +cheerful as when there is work to do,' or, 'God hath +given reputation to our handful,' we all feel as if +we were dubbed knights, and were moving about +glorious with Royal Orders." +</p> + +<p> +So, slowly as the year passed on, some of us +began dimly to feel that a kingly being had arisen +among us, such a king as David was before he was +crowned, when he ruled in the hearts of the thousands +of Israel by right of the slain giant and the +secret anointing of the seer; a mighty man, who +felt nothing impossible which he believed right, +with whom, if a thing was "necessary," it was "to +be done." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X. +</h3> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE DAVENANT'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p> +Oxford, <i>January</i> 30<i>th</i>, 1644.—Another +Christmas, and another birthday, shut +up within these monkish old stone walls. +To my mother the chapel, with the +painted windows, and the organ, and the daily +services, makes up for much that we lose. But as to +me, when I hear the same sounds, and see the same +sights, from day to day, I scarcely seem to hear or +see them at all. They do not wake my soul up. +The sacred music of the woods and fields seems to +do me more good, at least on week-days. For it is +sacred, and it is never the same. And the choristers +there, while they are singing their psalms, are +busy all the time building their nests, and finding +food for their nestlings, which make their songs all +the more tender and sacred to me. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word from them at Netherby. And not +a step nearer to the end. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet it is wrong to complain. It is something +to have my Father and my seven brothers still +untouched, after being exposed during all this time to +the risks of the war. I dread to think what a gulf +would yawn between me and Olive, and all of +them, if once one very dear to either of us fell in +the strife. +</p> + +<p> +"I have nothing to complain of, but that things +do not change; and with what a passion of regret +I should long for one of these unchanging days, if +one of the terrible changes that might come, came. +</p> + +<p> +"A wretched phantom of a Parliament appeared +here on the 22nd of January. I would the king +had not summoned it. We should leave it to the +rebels, I think, to deal with shows and phantoms +of real things, with their presumptuous talk of +colonels and generals. I would his Majesty had +not encountered their pretence of royal authority, +with this pretence of Parliamentary debate. Sixty +Lords and a hundred Commons, or thereabouts, +moving helplessly about these old University +streets, with no more power or life in them than the +effigies of the saints and crusaders in the churches. +Indeed far less, for the effigies are memorials of +persons who once were alive, and this Parliament is +nothing but a copy of the clothes and trappings of +a power now living. The king does not consult +them, and the nation does not heed them, and they +only show how real the division is amongst us. +The king himself calls them the 'mongrel +Parliament.' His Majesty is so grand and majestic when +he is grave, I feel one could give up anything to +bring a happy smile over his sad and kingly +countenance. But I would he did not make these jests. +Many grave persons, I have noticed, when they set +about jesting, are apt to do it rather cruelly. Their +jests want feathers. They fall heavily, weighted +with the gravity of their character, and instead of +pleasantly pricking and stimulating, they wound. +Therefore I wish His Majesty would not jest. +Especially about Parliaments and the navy. People +are apt not to see the wit of being called 'cats,' +or 'water-rats,' or 'mongrel.' They only feel the +sting. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>March</i>.—The Scottish General Leslie has led an +army over the Borders. Traitor! When the king +was so gracious as to create him Earl of Leven but +a few years since. Oh, faithless Scottish men! +Infatuated by a thing they call Presbytery, and +treacherous to their compatriot and anointed king! +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i>, 1644.—Another summer within the walls +of this old city. Another summer away from the +woods at home. I am tempted sometimes to wish +the war would end in any way. Politics perplex +me more and more. So many people wishing the +same thing, for contrary reasons. So many people +wishing contrary things for the same reasons. So +many on our side whom one hates; so many against +us whom we honour. The best men doing the +worst mischief by beginning the strife; and then +dying, or doubting, and giving place to the worst +men, who finish it—if ever it is to be finished. +Hampden gone, and Lord Falkland; and the names +one hears most of now, Prince Rupert and this +Oliver Cromwell. They call him General now. +What next? A country gentleman, none of the +most notable or of the greatest condition, eking out +his farming, some way, with brewing ale, at +Huntingdon, until he was forty-two—and at forty-five, +forsooth, General Cromwell, with men of condition +capping to receive his orders. A fanatic, moreover, +who preaches in the open-air to his men between +the battles. +</p> + +<p> +"A cheerful life for Roger Drayton, methinks! +For commander, this fanatic brewer; for comrades, +preaching tailors and fighting cobblers; for +recreation, General Cromwell's sermons; and for martial +music, Sir Launcelot says, Puritan Psalms, entoned +pathetically through the nose. A change for Roger +Drayton from Mr. Milton's organ-playing, or the +madrigals we sang at Netherby. And yet I +question whether our Harry would not find even that +doleful Puritan music more to his taste than many +a mocking Cavalier ditty wherewith our men +entertain themselves. The times are grave enough, and +I doubt sometimes but the Puritan music suits +them best. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 20.—Terrible tidings, if true. Lord +Newcastle and Prince Rupert defeated at Marston Moor, +on the 2nd of July, by the Earl of Manchester and +Cromwell. A hundred colours taken, and all the +baggage; the royal army scattered in all directions. +And ten days afterwards, York surrendered. Loyal +York, in the heart of the loyal North, His Majesty's +first retreat from his faithless capital! +</p> + +<p> +"Strange that men speak more of Oliver Cromwell +than of the Earl of Manchester in this battle. +Strange, if it is true, as some say, that this firebrand +was already in a ship bound for flight to America a +few years since, when the king forbade him to go. +My Father says, however, that the man who really +won the victory for the Parliament was Prince Rupert, +who, saith he, is no general, but a mere reckless +chief of foraging-parties. It was he who hurried +the Marquis of Newcastle into battle, against his +judgment. And now it is reported that my Lord +Newcastle, despairing of himself, with such associates +(or of the cause with such leaders), has taken +ship for France. I would it were the Palatine +princes instead. Their standard was taken at +Marston Moor. +</p> + +<p> +"Three of my brothers were there; one wounded, +but not severely; the other two have gone +northward we know not where. +</p> + +<p> +"Harry is much with us, being about the king's +person. He will have nothing to do with the +prince's plundering parties. But he chafes at +having missed this battle, and is eager for the king to +go westward to inspire and reward loyal Devon and +Cornwall by his presence, and to pursue my Lord +Essex, who has gone thither with the rebel forces. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i>.—The queen embarked on the 14th of +July for France. I marvel she can bear to put the +seas between her and the king at such times as +these. But my Mother says she could not help it, +and sacrifices herself most, and most to the purpose, +by taking off the burden, of her safety from His +Majesty, and going among her royal kindred, whom +she may stir up to fight. And indeed she did essay +to rejoin the king. After the birth of the little +princess at Exeter, she asked my Lord Essex for a +safe-conduct to the Bath to drink the waters; but he +offered her instead a safe-conduct to London, 'where,' +quoth he, 'she would find the best physicians.' A +sorry jest I deem this, inviting her to run into the +very den of the disloyal parliament, which lately +dared to 'impeach' her. +</p> + +<p> +"Rebel galleys followed her from Torbay, but +she escaped safe to Brest, and I trow the king's +affection for her is so true he had rather know her +safe than have her with him. Yet, methinks, in her +case I would not have left it to him to decide. The +more one I so loved cared for my welfare and safety, +the more I would delight to risk and dare all. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i>.—They are off to the West, the faithful +West—the king, and my Father, and Harry, with an +army enthusiastical in their loyalty, and high in +hope and courage. Prince Rupert not with them, +and Oliver Cromwell not with the rebels. Surely +there must be great things done! +</p> + +<p> +"<i>September</i>.—The glorious news has come:— +</p> + +<p> +"Lord Essex's army is ruined, gone, vanished. +Not routed in a hard fight, but steadily pursued to +Fowey, in a corner of loyal Cornwall, there cooped +up ingloriously, closer and closer, until the general +was fain to flee by sea, and the whole of the foot +had to surrender. The cavalry, indeed, fought their +way through, which, being Englishmen, I excuse +them. But never was ruin more complete. +</p> + +<p> +"Harry writes from Tavistock, where His Majesty +has retired, a small town nestled among wooded +hills at the foot of the wild moors, Mr. Pym was +member for it; nevertheless the place seems not +ill-disposed. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>November</i>.—Harry is with us. I have never seen +him so in spirits since the war began. +</p> + +<p> +"The royal army received a slight check at Newbury, +a place fatal already with the blood of the +brave Lord Falkland. +</p> + +<p> +"But Harry seems to think nothing of that in +comparison with the state of things this battle hath +revealed among the rebels. Rebellion, saith he, is +at last obeying its own laws, and crumbling away +by its own inherent disorganization. +</p> + +<p> +"After the second battle of Newbury the quiet +of our life was effectually broken by a threatened +attack on Oxford. +</p> + +<p> +"Artillery booming at our gates, bullets falling +in our streets. At last I had a little taste of real +war. I did not altogether dislike it. There was +something that made my heart beat firmer in the +thought of sharing my brothers' and my Father's +danger. But then, I must confess, it did not come +very near. The walls were still between us and the +enemy. After a short cannonading the rebels drew +off, from a cause, Harry says, worth us many +victories. Lord Essex and Sir William Waller, their two +generals, could not agree, and between them the +attack on Oxford was abandoned; and what was +more, the king, who was encamped outside the city, +with a force in numbers quite unequal to cope with +their combined forces, was suffered to retreat +without a blow to Worcester. +</p> + +<p> +"But better than all. Harry says the rebel +generals are assailing each other with all kinds of +reproaches in the Parliament, accusing each other as +the cause of all the late failures. Lord Essex, Lord +Manchester, and Sir William Waller, none of them +cordially uniting with each other against us, but all +most cordially uniting in assailing Oliver Cromwell, +who is the only one among them we have cause to +dread. And to complete the mêlée, the Scotch +preachers are having their say in the matter, and +solemnly accuse Mr. Cromwell of being an 'Incendiary!' +</p> + +<p> +"Which is quite plain to us he is. So that now, +when the Incendiaries themselves have set about to +fight each other, and to put out the flames, it is +probable the arson will be avenged, the flames <i>will</i> +be put out, and we quiet and loyal subjects shall +have nothing left to do but to rebuild the ruins. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we will try to say as little as we can about +who began the mischief, and only see who can work +best in repairing it. +</p> + +<p> +"The King and the Parliament throughout the +land, and the Draytons and the Davenants at dear +old Netherby." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE'S RECOLLECTIONS. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of July, 1644, we had a letter from +Roger:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Marston Moor, July</i> 3<i>d.</i>—To my dear sister +Mistress Olive Drayton.—On the battle-field. A +messenger going south will take these. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God we are here this day. And the +enemy is not here, but flying right and left, over +moor and mountain. No such victory has been +vouchsafed us before. +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday, the 2nd July, early in the morning, +we were moving off the ground—Lord Manchester, +General Leslie, and General Cromwell. +</p> + +<p> +"Prince Rupert had gallantly thrown provisions +into York, which we were beleaguering; but the +generals thought he would not venture an attack +on our combined forces. +</p> + +<p> +"But when we were fairly in order of march the +prince fell on our rear. +</p> + +<p> +"It took us till three in the day to face round, +front them, and secure the position we wanted. +There is a rye field here with a ditch in front, +where the dead bear witness how we had to fight +for it. +</p> + +<p> +"At three, Prince Rupert gave their battle-cry: +'<i>For God and the king;</i>' and we ours: '<i>God with us.</i>' From +three till five we pounded each other with the +great guns. But little impression was made on +either side. And at five there was a pause. Two +hours' silence, confronting each other, from five to +seven. Such silence as may be where many are +wounded, and many are waiting in agonies for the +summons to die, while the rest were waiting for the +summons to charge. At last, at seven, it came. +</p> + +<p> +"Our foot, under Lord Manchester, ran across the +ditch before that rye field for which they had fought +so hard. Thus far was clear to all. The rest we +know only from comparing what we did, and seeing +what we had done afterwards. For immediately +on the attack of the foot came the charges of the +horse. The left wing of the king's army on our +right they all but routed, driving the Lord +Manchester, Lord Fairfax, and the old veteran Leslie +from the field. Meantime our right—that is, we, +the Ironsides with the general—charged their left. +We were not beaten. I trust we gave him no +reason to be ashamed of us. But everywhere the +fighting was hard. Having discharged our pistols, we +flung them from us and fell to it with swords. Then +came the shock, like two seas meeting, each man +encountering the foe before him, but few knowing +how the day was speeding elsewhere, till we found +ourselves with the whole front of the battle changed, +each victorious wing having wheeled round as they +fought, and standing where the enemy had stood +when the fight began. Then came up General +Cromwell's reserves with General Leslie's, and +decided the day, sending Prince Rupert and his +plunderers flying headlong through the gathering dusk. +It was the first time they had encountered the +Ironsides. Their broken horse trampled, as they fled, +on the broken and flying foot, we spurring after +them, till within a mile of York. Arms, ammunition, +baggage, colours, all cast away in the mad +terror of the flight. To within a mile from York +we followed them, and then turned back, and slept +on the battle-field. +</p> + +<p> +"Another silence, Olive; not as before, in +expectation of another fight, but with our work done, +and four thousand dead around us to be buried. +</p> + +<p> +"Job Forster is safe, and would have you tell +Rachel that the Lord has sent Israel a judge at last, +and all must go right now. +</p> + +<p> +"He went about with Dr. Antony all night, seeing +to the wounded and the dying. +</p> + +<p> +"When I awoke, the summer morning was shining +on the field, and I wondered how I could have +slept with all those sights and sounds around me. +But, thank God, I did, for there is more to be done +yet. York has to be taken. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell Rachel, by using my military authority, I +got Job to lie down in my place, while I went round +with Dr. Antony. At first he wavered. But I +said: 'The general is sharp on any of us who +neglect our arms or powder. And the body has to be +looked to as well as the powder.' Whereon he lay +down in my cloak, and in a minute was beyond the +reach of any rousing, short of a cannonade. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N.B.</i>—Two young Davenants fought well a +few yards from me; scarcely more than lads. +</p> + +<p> +"God grant we gained yesterday a step towards +peace." +</p> + +<p> +A fortnight after, another letter, dated:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>York, the</i> 15<i>th July</i>.—York has surrendered. +The North is ours. This moment returned from a +thanksgiving in the minster. The grandest music +of the organ scarce, I think, could have echoed +more solemnly among the old roofs and arches than +that psalm, sung by the thousands of rough soldiers' +voices. King David was a soldier, and knew how +to make such psalms as soldiers need. Nor do I +think the old minster has often seen a congregation +more serious and devout. If some on the Cavalier +side had heard it, they could scarce have said +afterwards, our Puritan religion lacked its solemnities. +Our solemnities begin indeed within; but when the +tide of devotion is high and deep enough, no music +like that it makes in overflowing." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +To Roger, as to any one borne on the chariot of +the sun, the whole world seemed full of light. To +us, however, meanwhile in the Fens, things seemed +verging more and more from twilight into night. +</p> + +<p> +Not much more than a month after the letter of +Roger's concerning the surrender of York, came +tidings which, it seemed to us, more than +counterbalanced these advantages. +</p> + +<p> +The royal letter post, lately established on the +great North Road between London and Edinburgh, +and southward between London and Plymouth, had +been interrupted during the war. Netherby lay in +the line of one of the more recent branch-posts; +and we missed at first the pleasant sound of the +horn which the postman was commanded to blow +four times every hour, besides at the posting-stations. +</p> + +<p> +At first Aunt Dorothy had rather rejoiced. She +had been wont to say it was a grievous interference +with the liberty of the subject, that we should be +compelled to send all our letters by the hands of +the king's messengers, instead of by any private +carrier we chose. And, moreover, she deemed it +highly derogatory to His Majesty to demean himself +to take a few pence each letter for such services. +But a few months of return to the old private method, +with all its uncertainties and suspenses, made +her receive the public posts again as a boon, when +the Commonwealth government re-established them. +</p> + +<p> +It was from Dr. Antony, therefore, that we first +heard the tidings of the Lord Essex's flight from +Fowey, and the ruin of his whole army. +</p> + +<p> +This was not until November. +</p> + +<p> +He brought two letters from my Father and Roger. +My Father's was sad; Roger's was indignant. +Both spoke of divisions among the supporters of +the Parliament. They were written at different +times, but reached us together by Dr. Antony's +hand as the first safe opportunity. The first was +from Roger, dated late in September, speaking of +the surrender of Lord Essex's foot:—"Marston +Moor with the four thousand that lie dead there," +he wrote, "was after all, it seems, not a step +towards the end. Everything gained there is thrown +away again by the indecisions of noblemen who are +afraid to win too much; and old soldiers who will +not move a finger except in the fashion some one +else moved it a hundred years ago. As if when +war is once begun, there were any way to peace but +by the ruin of one party, except, indeed, by the +ruin of both; as if a lingering war were a kind of +half peace, instead of being as it is, the worst of +wars; the opening of the nation's veins at a thousand +points, whereby she slowly bleeds to death. +Lieutenant-General Cromwell takes sadly to heart the +sad conditions of our army in the West. He saith, +had we wings we would fly thither. Indeed, wings +he hath at command, in the hearts of his men, +'never so cheerful,' he says, 'as when there is work +to do.' But there are those whose chief business is +to clip these wings, lest affairs fly too fast. The +general saith, 'If we could all intend our own ends +less, and our ease too, our business in this army +would go on wheels for expedition.' If he were at +the head of affairs, we should not, in sooth, lack +wheels or wrings." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The second letter was from my Father written +early in November, after the second battle of +Newbury (fought on the 27th of October). +</p> + +<p> +He wrote,— +</p> + +<p> +"It is the old story, I fear, of our Protestant lack +of unity. People do not seem able to see that the +military unity of the Roman Church being broken, +the only ecclesiastical unity possible for us is the +unity as of an empire, like that of Great Britain, +with different races and local constitutions under +one sovereign; or the unity as of a family of grown-up +children, in free obedience to one father. If +Lutherans and Calvinists could have merged their +lesser differences in their real agreement, probably that +terrible war, which is still crushing the life out of +Germany, need never have begun. If Prelatists, +Presbyterians, and Independents could agree now +to yield each other liberty, this war of ours might +end. But while they had power, Prelatists would +rather let the nation be torn asunder than tolerate +Presbyterians. And now the Presbyterians think +they have power, they had rather lose everything +we have gained than tolerate Independents. The +merit of the Independents and Anabaptists being, +perhaps, only this, that they never have had +the power to persecute. I cannot see whither it is +all tending. +</p> + +<p> +"We have lost an army in Cornwall; but that is +little. It seems to me some of us are losing all hold +of what we are fighting for. This success at +Newbury shows our weakness more than the ruin at +Fowey. Lord Manchester will not pursue the king, +lest our last army should be lost; in which case, he +says, His Majesty might hang us all. As if the +block or the gallows had not been the alternative +of success from the beginning. In consequence of a +disagreement between him and Sir William Waller, +the combined attack on Oxford failed; and eleven +days after our success at Newbury, His Majesty's +troops were suffered quietly to withdraw their +artillery from Donington Castle, in face of our +victorious army lying inactive. +</p> + +<p> +"The indignation in the army is unbounded. +But all minor divisions bid fair to resolve +themselves into two great factions of Presbyterians +and Independents; Lieutenant-General Cromwell +having addressed a remonstrance to the Parliament +against Lord Manchester, and Lord Manchester, +Lord Essex, and Hollis, with the Scotch +Commissioners, being set on crushing General +Cromwell. +</p> + +<p> +"The quarrel is of no new origin. The affair of +Donington Castle did but set the tinder to the +train. It dates back to the first setting of the +Westminster Assembly, when the Presbyterians, +not content with absorbing the Church revenues, +which would have been conceded to them, would +have had the magistrate imprison and confiscate +the goods of all whom they excommunicated. +'Toleration,' said one of them, 'will make the +kingdom a chaos, a Babel, another Amsterdam, a Sodom, +an Egypt, a Babylon. Toleration is the grand +work of the devil; his masterpiece and chief engine +to support his tottering kingdom. It is the most +compendious, ready, sure way to destroy all religion, +lay all waste, and bring in all evil. As original +sin is the fundamental sin, having the seed and +spawn of all sin in it, so toleration hath all errors +in it and all evils.' They call toleration the 'great +Diana of the Independents.' Yet no one contends +for toleration to extend beyond the orthodox +Protestant sects. These divisions set many of us +thinking what we are fighting for. It would be scarcely +worth so much blood-shedding to establish one +hundred and twenty popes at Westminster, instead of +one at Lambeth. They are golden words of +General Cromwell's: 'All that believe have the real +unity, which is most glorious, because inward and +spiritual, in the Body and to the Head. For being +united in forms, every Christian will, for peace' +sake, study and do, as far as conscience will +permit. And for brethren, in things of the mind, we +look for no compulsion but that of light and reason.'" +</p> + +<p> +"What does my brother mean, Master Antony?" +quoth Aunt Dorothy, when she came to this +passage. "And what doth General Cromwell mean? +'No compulsion!' and 'light and reason!' Most +dangerous words. An assembly of godly divines +at Westminster to settle everything! That is +precisely what we have been fighting for. Not for +disorder; not for each man to think what is right +in his own judgment, and do what is right in his +own eyes. But for those who believe right to have +the power to instruct, or else to silence, those who +believe wrong. Light and reason indeed! The +cry of all the heretics from the beginning. Why, +reason is the very source of all error. And light is +precisely what we lack, and what the Westminster +Assembly is providing for us; and when they have +just kindled it, and set it up like a city on a hill, +does Mr. Cromwell, forsooth, think we are going to +let every tinker and tailor kindle his farthing +candle instead, and lead people into any wilderness he +pleases?" +</p> + +<p> +Said Dr. Antony,— +</p> + +<p> +"There was a great light enkindled and set up +on a Sorrowful Hill sixteen hundred years ago. But +it has only enlightened the hearts of those who +would look at it. And if the Sun does not put out +these poor farthing candles, Mistress Dorothy, I am +afraid we shall find it a hard matter to do so with +our fingers." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Aunt Dorothy, "I am sure I cannot +see whither things are tending." +</p> + +<p> +And even Aunt Gretel remarked,— +</p> + +<p> +"That Independents and Presbyterians should +agree might indeed be easy enough. But Lutherans +and Calvinists are quite another question. In +the next world—well, it is to be hoped. Death +works miracles. But in this, scarcely. The dear +brother-in-law is one of the wisest of men. But it +cannot be expected that the wisest Englishman +should quite fathom the religious differences of +Germany." +</p> + +<p> +Of toleration towards Papists, Infidels, or Quakers, +no one dreamed. Infidelity, all admitted, +comes direct from the devil, and, of course, no +Christian should tolerate the devil or his works. +The Papists had within the memory of our older +men sent fetters to bind us, and fagots to burn us +in the Armada, which the winds of God scattered +from our coasts. In France they had massacred +our brethren in cold-blood to the number of one +hundred thousand in the slaughter which began on +St. Bartholomew's day. They had assassinated our +kindred by tens of thousands in Ireland in our own +times. And they were binding, and burning, and +torturing, and making galley-slaves of our brethren +still on the Continent of Europe. Not as heretics +we kept them under, but as rebels. And as to +the Quakers, they were reported to be liable to +attacks of objections to clothes very perplexing to +sober-minded Christians, and were probably many +of them lunatics. These should not indeed be +burned, but they should at all events be clothed, and, +if possible, silenced, until they came to their right +mind. +</p> + +<p> +The third letter which Dr. Antony had brought +us was from Job Forster. I went with Dr. Antony +to take it to Rachel. In it Job spoke much of +Roger's courage and goodness, in a way it made +my heart beat quick to hear. +</p> + +<p> +"Master Roger fights like a lion-like man of +Judah," wrote Job, "and commands like one of the +chief princes. And at other times he can tend a +wounded man, friend or foe, or speak good words +to the dying, most as tender, Rachel, as thee." +</p> + +<p> +Job's letter was by no means doubtful or +desponding. He had the advantage of those in the +ranks. He saw only the rank and the step immediately +before him, and heard not the discussions of +the commanders but only the word of command. +"I think," he concluded, "we have come about to +1 Sam. xxii. 14. Some time back we were in 1 +Sam. xxii. 1, in cave Adullam: 'Every one that +was in debt, and every one that was discontented, +gathered themselves unto them,' and a sorry troop +they were. But that is over. The General saith +himself: 'I have a lovely company; honest, sober +Christians; you would respect them did you know +them.' And respect us they do; leastways the +enemy. And now David (that is, General Cromwell) +is in Keilah. And they inquired of the Lord +and the Lord said, 'They will deliver thee up.' <i>But +God delivered him not</i>. The rest has to come in +its season." +</p> + +<p> +Job wrote also of "the young gentleman the +chirurgeon." "Of as good a courage as the best," +quoth Job. "For I hold it harder to stand about +among the whizzing bullets, succouring or removing +the wounded than to fight. It is always harder +to stand fire than to charge. And it is harder to +spend days and nights tending poor groaning +suffering men than to suffer yourself. That is, if you +have got a heart. Which that doctor hath. But +every man hath his calling. And Dr. Antony hath +his. Straight from headquarters, as I deem." +</p> + +<p> +It was curious that what struck me first in those +words of Job's was his calling Dr. Antony "young." It +set me wondering what his age might be; and +as we walked home together I glanced at him to +see. I had always thought of him as my Father's +friend, and therefore of another generation. Besides +there was the doctor's cap, and a physician is +always, <i>ex officio</i>, an elder. But when I came to +consider his face, it had certainly nothing of old +age in it. His carriage was erect and easy; his +hair, raven-black, had not a streak of gray; his +eyes, dark as they were, had fire enough in them. +These researches scarce took me a moment, but his +eyes met mine, and it seemed as if he half guessed +what I was thinking of, for he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"You wondered at Job's talking of the courage +of a chirurgeon." +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all," said I, somewhat confused. "I +was only thinking how it was you were always our +Father's friend instead of ours." +</p> + +<p> +"Was I not yours?" he said, half smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, of course," I said, "every one's." +</p> + +<p> +"Every one's, Mistress Olive," he said inquiringly, +"only, not yours?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mine, of course," I said, feeling myself becoming +hopelessly entangled, "and every one's besides." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," he said, gravely, "I should not +have liked the exchange." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it easier, do you think, Dr. Antony," I said, +breaking hurriedly from the subject, "to fight, than +to be a chirurgeon on the battle-field?" +</p> + +<p> +"Easier, probably, to me," he said. "Fighting +is in our blood. My grandfather was a soldier, and +fought in the French wars of religion. He was +assassinated at the St. Bartholomew with Coligny. +My father, then a child, was seized, baptized, and +educated in a Catholic seminary. But he escaped, +at the risk of his life, to England. In France we +had enough of wars of religion. I have thought it +better work to devote myself as far as I may to +succour the oppressed, and heal such as can be +healed of the wounds and sorrows of men. There +is enough of danger and of warfare in these days +in such a calling to satisfy a soldier's passion, and +not to let the blood stagnate or grow cold." +</p> + +<p> +There was a subdued fire in his eye and a deep sonorous +ring in his voice, which gave force to his words. +</p> + +<p> +"But Antony is not a French name," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"It was my father's Christian name, which he +adopted for safety. His name was properly +Antoine la Mothe Duplessis, from an estate our family +had held for some centuries. But, Mistress Olive," +he said, turning the discourse, as if it led to painful +subjects, or as if he shrank from continuing on a +theme so unusual with him as himself, "I understand +you are accused of upholding witches." +</p> + +<p> +Whereby I was led into an earnest defence of +Gammer Grindle. +</p> + +<p> +"But even if she had been a witch," I ventured +to say, in conclusion, "would it not have been +more like the Sermon on the Mount to rescue and +then to instruct her, than to drown her? And is +not the Sermon on the Mount the highest law we +have?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is the last edition of the Divine law yet +issued, Mistress Olive," he said. "And one great +glory of it is, it seems to me, that it is not only so +plain itself as to need no commentary of lawyer +or scribe, but if we try to keep it, it has a +wonderful power of making other things plain as we +go on." +</p> + +<p> +At which point we reached the porch at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +Said Aunt Dorothy, as Dr. Antony was taking +leave the next day,— +</p> + +<p> +"You must not trouble yourself to be our +letter-carrier. Less useful men can be spared on such +errands. I wonder my brother should have burdened +you therewith." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, Mistress Dorothy," said he; "but +it was my free choice to come. And I promise you +I will only come when it is no burden." +</p> + +<p> +Said she, holding his hand,— +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me; but I am old enough to be your +mother. Suffer an aged woman to warn you against +new-fangled notions. Beware of 'light' and 'reason,' +prithee, and such presumptuous pleas. The +light that is in us is darkness, and our reason is +corrupt. The spiritual armour your fathers fought in +Master Antony, is proof still." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe it, Mistress Dorothy," he replied; "and +if in new times and in new dangers I should need +new weapons, believe me, I will only go to my +fathers' armoury for them." +</p> + +<p> +I was provoked with myself when he had left, +that of all the wise discourse that had been held +since he came, the things that kept recurring to my +mind were what Job had said of Dr. Antony, and +how foolish I had been in the answers I gave him +on our way home from Rachel's. He must deem +me so unmannerly, I thought. And, besides, so +many fitting things now occurred which I might +have said. Nothing occupies one like a conversation +in which one has failed to say what one ought +to have said. It haunts one like a melody of which +you cannot find the end. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident, moreover, that Aunt Dorothy +took the same view of Dr. Antony's age as Job. It +made Dr. Antony seem like some one quite new, +to think of this; new, and yet certainly not strange. +</p> + +<p> +The next Christmas, the army being in winter-quarters, +my Father spent with us, which made it +a holiday indeed. +</p> + +<p> +In February, 1645, he read us a letter which +Dr. Antony wrote to him, narrating what was going on +in London. At the beginning there was a considerable +piece which he did not read to us. He said it +related to family matters, which he could speak of +hereafter, and contained greetings to us. Thus the +letter proceeded—it was dated January 21st, 1645: +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Thomas Fairfax is this day appointed by the +Commons' House general-in-chief, in lieu of Lord +Essex; Skipton major-general; while the post of +lieutenant-general is <i>left open</i>. Most men deem +that he who fills it will fill <i>more than it</i>, as his name +and fame now fill all men's mouths. There have +been fierce debates, whisperings, conspirings, +mysterious midnight meetings at Essex House: the aim +of the whole of these conspirings, the bond of all +these gatherings, being to 'remove out of the way +General-Lieutenant Cromwell, whom,' said the Scottish +Commissioners, 'ye ken very weel is no friend +of ours.' This 'obstacle,' this '<i>remora</i>' this +'INCENDIARY,' as they called him (soaring high into Latin +in their vain endeavours to find words lofty enough +to express their abhorrence), had hundreds of grave +English and Scottish Presbyterian divines, soldiers +and lawyers, been labouring for months to remove +out of the way; yet, nevertheless, on the 9th of +December, there he stood in the Commons' House, as +immovable an obstacle and '<i>remora</i>' as ever, and +about to prove himself an 'Incendiary' indeed by +kindling a flame which should consume their +eloquent Latin accusations and their authority at +once. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a long silence in the House. General +Cromwell broke it, speaking abruptly, and not in +Latin. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is now a time to speak,' he said, 'or for ever +hold the tongue. The important occasion now is +no less than to save a nation out of a bleeding, nay, +almost dying condition, which the long continuance +of this war hath already brought it into; so that +without a more speedy, vigorous, effectual prosecution +of the war—casting off all lingering proceedings +like those of soldiers of fortune beyond sea to +spin out a war—we shall make the kingdom weary +of us, and hate the name of a Parliament. +</p> + +<p> +"'For what do the enemy say? Nay, what do +many that were friends at the beginning of the +Parliament? Even this, that the members of both +Houses have got great places and commands, and +the sword into their hands, and what by interest in +Parliament, what by power in the army, will +perpetually continue themselves in grandeur, and not +permit the war speedily to end, lest their own +power should determine with it. This that I speak here +to our own faces, is but what others do utter abroad +behind our backs. I am far from reflecting on any. +I know the worth of those commanders. Members +of both Houses who are still in power; but if I may +speak my conscience without reflection on any, I do +conceive if the army is not put into another method, +and the war more vigorously prosecuted, the people +can bear the war no longer, and will enforce you to +a dishonourable peace. +</p> + +<p> +"'But this I would recommend to your prudence. +Not to insist upon any complaint or oversight of +any commander-in-chief upon any occasion whatsoever, +for as I must acknowledge myself guilty of +oversights, so I know they can rarely be avoided in +military affairs. Therefore, waiving a strict inquiry +into the issues of these things, let us apply +ourselves to the remedy, which is most necessary. +And I hope we have such true English hearts, and +zealous affections towards the general weal of our +mother-country, as no members of either House will +scruple to <i>deny</i> themselves and their own private +interests for the public good, nor account it to be +a dishonour done to them, whatever the Parliament +shall resolve upon in this weighty matter.' +</p> + +<p> +"Another member followed and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Whatever be the cause, two summers are passed +over, but we are not saved. Our victories (the +price of blood invaluable) so gallantly gotten, and +(which is more pity) so graciously bestowed, seem +to have been put into a bag with holes; what we +won one time, we lost another; the treasure is +exhausted, the country wasted, a summer's victory +has proved but a winter's story; the game, +however, shut up with autumn, was to be played again +the next spring, as if the blood that had been shed +were only to manure the field of war for a more +plentiful crop of contention. Men's hearts have +failed them with the observation of these things.' +</p> + +<p> +"The cause General Cromwell deemed to be the +multiplication of commanders. The remedy, that +members of both Houses should <i>deny themselves</i> the +right to appoint <i>themselves</i> to posts of military +command. The 'Self-Denying Ordinance' and the +'New Model' of the army were proposed, and soon +passed the House of Commons. The Lords debated +and rejected it; but this day the Commons have +appointed Sir Thomas Fairfax commander-in-chief, +superseding Lord Essex. And few doubt but they +will carry it through. +</p> + +<p> +"Thus may, we trust, a few vigorous strokes +bring peace; and peace, order. +</p> + +<p> +"But meanwhile, during these dark January +days, another conflict has ended; on Tower Hill. +</p> + +<p> +"The fallen archbishop, whose name was a terror +for so many years in every Puritan home in England, +there, on this 10th of January, laid down his +life heroically and calmly as a martyr, which he +surely believed himself to be. He read a prayer he +had composed for the occasion. I grieve to say, the +scaffold was crowded, not with his friends. He said +he would have wished an empty scaffold, but if it +could not be so, God's will be done; he was more +willing to go out of the world than any could be to +send him. A helpless, forsaken old man, heavily +laden with bodily infirmities, four years a prisoner, +uneasily dragged from trial to trial, I never heard +that his courage failed. I would they had let him +die in quiet. But Sir John Clotworthy, over zealous, +as I think, asked him what text was most +comfortable to a man in his departure. 'Cupio dissolviet +esse cum Christo,' said the archbishop. 'That is +a good desire,' was the rejoinder; 'but there must +be a foundation for that desire, an assurance.' 'No +man can express it,' was the calm reply, 'it must +be found within.' 'Yet it is founded on a word, +and that word should be known.' 'It is the knowledge +of Jesus Christ,' said the archbishop, 'and that +alone;' and to finish the discussion, he turned to +the headsman, gave him some money, and said, +'Here, honest friend, God forgive thee, and do thy +office on me in mercy;' and so, after a short prayer, +his head was struck off at one blow. The crowd +dispersed, and the fatal hill was left once more +silent and deserted, with the scaffold and the Tower +facing each other, the weary prison of so many, and +the blood-stained key, which had for so many +unbarred its heavy gates, and also, we may trust, +another gate, from inside which our whole earth +seems but a prison chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"If we look at the world only as divided into +<i>parties</i>, truly this death of his were worth to those +who think with him, more than many victories in +Parliament or in the field. But if we think of the +One Kingdom, surely we may rejoice that one who, +as it seems to us, erred much in head and heart, and +did no little hurt, came right at last, and took +refuge with Him who receives us not as Archbishops, +or Presbyterians or Independents, but as repentant, +weary, and heavy-laden men and women. +</p> + +<p> +"Some few friends reverently buried him in Barking +Church to the words of the old burial-service, +prohibited by the Parliament a few days before. +All honour to them." +</p> + +<p> +Said Aunt Gretel, when my Father had finished +reading this letter,— +</p> + +<p> +"It is a great pity the martyrs should not all be +on the right side. It would make it so very much +easier to know which is the right." +</p> + +<p> +"Martyrs on the wrong side," exclaimed Aunt +Dorothy, indignantly; "you might as well talk of +orthodox heretics." +</p> + +<p> +But my Father replied,— +</p> + +<p> +"If obedience is better than sacrifice, then +obedience is the best part of the sacrifice of +martyrdom; and may we not trust that the Master may +accept the act of obedience even of some who +misread the word of command?" +</p> + +<p> +The next day he left us for London, and we saw +him no more for many months. +</p> + +<p> +On the 29th of January, commissioners of the +Parliament and of the king met at Uxbridge to +negotiate for peace. But they did not get on at all. +Dr. Stewart syllogistically defended the divine right +of Episcopacy, and Dr. Henderson the divine right +of the Presbyterial government. My Lord +Hertford and my Lord Pembroke would have passed +this by, to proceed to the particular points to be +settled; but the divines declined to be hurried, +insisting on disputing syllogistically "as became +scholars." So, after twenty days, Dr. Stewart and +Dr. Henderson, being each confirmed in their +conviction of his own orthodoxy, the commissioners +separated with no further result. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, indeed, it is said, the king had +consented to honourable terms; but in the night a +letter came from Montrose announcing Royalist +victories, and in the morning His Majesty retracted the +concessions of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the two armies continued fighting; +not in two large bodies, but in scattered skirmishes, +sieges, surprises, all over the country, making +well-nigh every quiet home in England a sharer in the +misery and tumult of the war. +</p> + +<p> +The moral difference between the forces of the +Parliament and the king became, it was said, more +obvious. It could scarce be otherwise. War must +make men firmer in virtues or more desperate in +sin. Men must get less and less human with years +of plundering, and indulgence in every selfish sinful +pleasure. No good woman durst venture near the +Royalist army, my Father said, and vice and +profaneness were scarcely punished; whereas in the +Parliament camp, as in a well-ordered city, passage +was safe, and traffic free. It was the armies of the +great Gustavus and that of Wallenstein over again. +I think it would be blasphemy to deem such +differences can have no weight in a world where God +is King. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder if it can be that, after all, it leads to +more good to fight out the great battles of right +and wrong in this way, than syllogistically, in +Dr. Stewart and Dr. Henderson's way. The logical +battles making good men fierce, and not hurting +the bad at all; the battles for life and death +making good men nobler, at all events, even if they +make the bad men worse. Making good men better +seems the end of so many things that God +permits or orders in this world. And as to making +bad men worse, it seems as if that could not be +helped, because everything does that until they +change the direction they are going in, which great +troubles and dangers sometimes startle them to do. +If this be so, the pain and misery and death would +cease to be so perplexing. Aunt Dorothy used to +say, a Church without a rod in her hand is a Church +without sinews. But a Church with a rod seems +sometimes as blind and severe in using it as the +world. For which reason, I suppose, the best +periods of Church history seem often to be those in +which the world holds the rod instead of the Church. +And a war may sometimes be as effectual an instrument +of godly discipline as a synod. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 14<i>th</i>, 1645, <i>Davenant Hall, Three o'clock in +the morning</i>.—We came home yesterday, and I +grudge to sleep away any of these first hours in the +old house. It is like travelling into some marvellous +foreign country, to rise at an unwonted hour +in the morning. The sky looks so much higher +before the roof of daylight has quite spread over it. +For after all, daylight is a roof shutting us in to our +own green sunny home of earth. And that is partly +what makes the night so awful. We stand roofless +at night, open to all the other worlds, with no walls +or bounds on any side. And at dawn something of +the boundlessness and awfulness are still left. With +a majestical slow pomp the morning sweeps the +veil of sunlight over star after star, falling in grand +solemn folds of purple and crimson as it touches the +edge of our world, until the great spaces of the +upper worlds are all shut out, and we are shut in +with our own kindly sun, and our own many-coloured +fleeting clouds, and our own green earth. +</p> + +<p> +"Then the other aspect of the dawn begins. +Her first steps and movements are all grand and +silent. But when the awful infinity beyond is shut +out, and we are left alone, face to face with her, she +changes altogether. +</p> + +<p> +"The stars pass away in silence. But the day +awakes with all kinds of joyful sounds. The clouds +are transformed from solemn purple banners in +some great martial or sacred procession to royal or +bridal draperies. They garland the earth with +roses, they strew pearls and diamonds; they spread +the path of the new sun with cloth of gold. The +whole world, earth, and sky, seems to blossom into +colour, like a flower from its sheath. Every leaf of +the limes outside my window, every spike of the +horse-chestnuts seems to awake with a flutter of +joy. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems as if infinity came back to us in a new +way. For the infinite spaces of night, we have the +infinite numbers of day. Instead of the heavy +masses of foliage waving an hour or two dimly +since against the sky, there is a countless multitude +of leaves fluttering in and out of the sunlight, a +countless multitude of birds singing, chirping, +twittering, among the branches, a countless throng of +insects hovering, wheeling, darting in and out +among the leaves; there are the infinite varieties +of colour on every blade of grass, on every blossom, +on every insect's wing. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a wonderful joy to be here again. Every +creature seems to welcome me. I seem to long to +speak to every one of them, and just add a little +drop of happiness to the happiness of them all. I +want to take all of them, in some way, like little +children, to my heart and kiss them. +</p> + +<p> +"Olive said that feeling was really the longing +to be folded to the Heart which is at the heart of +all; but nearer us than any other creature. +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>He fell on his neck and kissed him</i>.' +</p> + +<p> +"She thought it meant something like that. +</p> + +<p> +"Leaning out of my window, looking down from +the slopes of the Wolds, as we do across the long +space of fens which stretches before us like a sea, I +see the gables of Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +"Olive is there asleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Olive, and Mistress Dorothy and Mistress Gretel. +</p> + +<p> +"And here, my mother and I. +</p> + +<p> +"Fathers and brothers all at the war. In sight, +yet how sadly out of reach! This terrible war that +seems as if it would never end. Things have not +been going on quite so prosperously with us lately; +although many strong places in the North are still +loyal; and all the West is ours, and much of Wales. +A new vigour seems to have come into the rebel +councils. They say the soul of them all is this +Oliver Cromwell, that he and his friends have +brought in some new regulation, called by some of +their unpleasant Parliament names. They call +everything a covenant or an ordinance, as if it were +all out of the Bible. They call this the Self-Denying +Ordinance. The meaning of it seems to be +that they are all to deny themselves to give +Mr. Cromwell the real command. At least, Harry +thinks so. And he looks gloomily on our affairs. +He was at home before we came, to make the place +ready for us. And he only left yesterday morning +to rejoin the king's army, which is in Leicestershire. +Not so very far off. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder, if there were a battle, if we should +hear the sound of it! +</p> + +<p> +"A few days since the troops stormed Leicester, +and sacked it. Harry would not tell us much about +it. He said it was too much after the fashion of +those dreadful German wars of religion, which +Prince Rupert has taught our men to imitate too +well. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor wretched city! We could not hear anything +of that. Groans and even helpless cries for +pity do not reach far. At least, not on earth. I +suppose nothing reaches heaven sooner. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish that thought had not come into my head +about hearing the roar of a battle if there were one. +Since it came, I cannot help listening, through all +the sweet cheerful country-sounds, the twitterings +of the swallows under the eaves, the soft cadences +of the thrushes, the stirring of the grasses, for +something in the distance! +</p> + +<p> +"If we did hear anything, it would be very, very +far off, fainter than the fluttering of the leaves: like +the moan of distant thunder. +</p> + +<p> +"In summer days there are often mysterious, far-off +sounds one cannot account for. And now I can +do nothing but listen for it. +</p> + +<p> +"For almost the last thing Harry said when he +went away was, that there would be a battle, probably, +before long, and if a battle, probably a great +battle. +</p> + +<p> +"The forces are gathering and approaching each +other. +</p> + +<p> +"He took leave of us gayly, my Mother and me. +But ten minutes afterwards, he galloped back to +the place in the outer field where I was standing +looking after him (my Mother having gone to be +alone, as she always does when Harry leaves us). +His face had lost all the gaiety, and he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Lettice, if things were not to prosper with the +king, and the rebels were to attack this house, I +think it would be better not attempt to stand a +siege. The house extends too far to be defended, +except with a larger garrison than you could muster. +And the country is against us. If it came to the +very worst, Mr. Drayton is a generous enemy and a +gentleman, and would give you safe harbour for a +time. If all on their side or ours had been like the +Draytons, there need have been no war. You may +tell them that I said so, if you like, if it ever comes +to that.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Comes to <i>what</i>, Harry?' I said, shuddering. +</p> + +<p> +"He tried to smile. But then, his countenance +suddenly changing, he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Lettice, we must think of all possibilities. +You are young, and my Mother is used to lean on +others.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Only on <i>you</i>, Harry,' I said. +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes,' he said, hurriedly; 'too much, perhaps. +But trust the Draytons, if necessary, Lettice. They +will never do anything unjust or ungenerous. If +you ask their advice, they will advise you for your +good, though it cut their own throats or broke their +own hearts.' +</p> + +<p> +"Then, after a moment's pause, he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'It is never any good to try to say out a farewell, +Lettice. If one had years to say it in, there +would always be something left unsaid. Partings +are always sudden, whether we are snatched from +each other as if by pirates in the dead of night, or +watch the lessening sail till it becomes a speck in +the horizon. The last step is always a plunge into +a gulf. But, Lettice,' he added, lowering his voice, +'death itself is not really a gulf, only to those on +this edge of it. Do not tell my Mother I came back. +If she asks you anything about it, tell her I never +went away with a lighter heart. For I see less and +less what the end will be, or what to wish for, and +I am content more and more to make the day's +march, and leave the conduct of the campaign to +God.' +</p> + +<p> +"And he rode off, looking like a prince, and I +watched him till he disappeared behind the trees. +He looked back once again and waved his plumed +hat to me, and then galloped out of sight in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"I crept back by a side-door near the stable, that +my Mother might not see me; and Cæsar, Harry's +dog, made a dismal whining, and crouched and +fawned on me, so that it went to my heart not to be +able to grant him what he asked for so plainly in +his poor dumb way, and set him free to follow Harry. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 14, <i>Ten o'clock at night</i>.—Some men who +came from the North this evening, say there has +been fighting towards the North-west, somewhere +on the borders of Northamptonshire and Leicestershire +The roar of the guns began early in the +day, and then there was sharp interrupted firing, +which went on till the afternoon, when it seemed +gradually to cease. +</p> + +<p> +"All day it has been going on. All this quiet +summer day. My Father there, perhaps, and Harry +certainly. And nothing to be heard until to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother will not seek rest to-night. I see +the lamp in her oratory-window. And far off across +the fields, another light in the gable of old Netherby, +where Olive Drayton used to sleep. It is some +comfort to think we are watching together. Olive +is so good. And she will be sure to remember us. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>June</i> 20.—We heard before the morrow. The +next morning, when the dawn began to break again, +a horseman galloped hastily up to the door. I was +in my mother's room; we were both dressed. We +had neither of us slept. I looked out. It was +Roger Drayton. My Mother sat up on the bed, when +I had persuaded her to rest. +</p> + +<p> +"'I will go down and ask,' I said. +</p> + +<p> +"'We will go together, Lettice,' said she. +</p> + +<p> +"Then came a cry from one of the maids. +</p> + +<p> +"'Perhaps it is poor Margery,' I said. For +Margery had come to stay with us since we returned. +It comforted us to keep together, all of us who had +kindred at the field. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"She knelt down one moment, and drew me down +beside her, by the bedside, heart against heart, and +murmured,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Thy will, not mine! Oh, help us to say it. +For His sake who said it first.' +</p> + +<p> +"Then she rose, and with a firm step went down +into the hall with me. +</p> + +<p> +"She held out her hand to Roger when she saw +him. +</p> + +<p> +"His face spoke evil-tidings only too plainly. +</p> + +<p> +"'There has been a battle,' she said. +</p> + +<p> +"'At Naseby, Lady Lucy,' he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"'Was the victory for the king or not?' she asked; +unable to utter the question uppermost on her +heart and mine. +</p> + +<p> +"'There was hard fighting on both sides' he +replied. 'The king and Prince Rupert have gone +westward towards Wales.' +</p> + +<p> +"I could hear that his voice trembled. +</p> + +<p> +"'Then the king has lost,' she said. 'But it was +not to tell us this you came. Who is hurt?' +</p> + +<p> +"He hesitated an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is Harry!' she exclaimed. 'You have come +to summon us to him. Is the wound severe? Is +there hope? Can we go to him at once?' +</p> + +<p> +"There was a pause, and a dreadful irresponsive +silence between each of her questions. He +answered only the last,— +</p> + +<p> +"'He will be brought to you, Lady Lucy. They +are bringing him now.' +</p> + +<p> +"At once the whole depth of her sorrow opened +beneath her. Not an instant too soon. For the +words had scarcely left Roger's lips when the heavy +regular tramp of men bearing a burden echoed +through the silence of the morning outside, and +paused at the porch. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother took my hand, and led me forward. +</p> + +<p> +"'He must not come home unwelcomed!' she said. +</p> + +<p> +"For an instant I feared she had not yet grasped +Roger's meaning. For this awful burden they were +bearing was <i>not Harry</i>, I knew. No welcomes +would ever greet him more. But I had not +fathomed her sorrow nor her strength. +</p> + +<p> +"She met the bearers at the door. They stood +with uncovered heads, having laid down what they +bore on the stone seat of the porch. They were +mostly old servants of the family. +</p> + +<p> +"'My friends, I thank you,' she said. 'You have +done all you could. But not there. On the place +of honour. He was worthy.' +</p> + +<p> +"And she motioned them to the dais at the head +of the Hall, where the heads of our house are wont +to receive the homage of their retainers. +</p> + +<p> +"Silently they bore him there, and laid their +sacred burden gently down. She thanked them again +for their good service. And then as silently they +withdrew. I saw many a rough hand lifted to +brush away the tears. But she did not weep. She +stood motionless, with clasped hands, beside the +bier, and murmured to herself again and again, in a +low voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"'He was worthy.' +</p> + +<p> +"Then, turning with her own sweet, never-forgotten +courtesy to Roger, she held out her hand to +him again, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'You did kindly to come and tell us. He always +honoured you.' +</p> + +<p> +"He held her hand, and said rapidly, as if uncertain +of the firmness of his own voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"'I was near him at the last, and he made me +promise to see you, or I could not have dared to +come.' +</p> + +<p> +"She looked up with trembling, parted lips, +listening for more. +</p> + +<p> +"'He made me promise to tell you he had little +pain and no fear,' Roger said, in a low voice. 'And +he gave me this for you, and said, "Tell my mother +these words of hers have often helped me to believe, +through all these evil days, that God is living and +commanding still. But, more than all words, tell +her my faith in God has been kept unquenched by +the thought of <i>herself</i>."' +</p> + +<p> +"She took the packet from him. It was a little +book, with Scriptures and prayers written in it by +her own hand, given to Harry when he was a boy. +On the crimson silk cover she had embroidered for +it, was one stain of a deeper crimson. As she +opened it, a little well-worn leaf dropped out, with a +child's prayer on it she had written for him when +first he went to school. +</p> + +<p> +"When she saw it, the thought of the hero dying +on the battle-field for the good cause vanished, and +in its place came the memory of the little hands +clasped on her knees in prayer. +</p> + +<p> +"And withdrawing her hand from Roger, a sudden +quiver passed through all her frame, and throwing +her arms around me, she sobbed,— +</p> + +<p> +"'My boy, my boy! O Lettice, it is Harry we +have lost! It is our Harry!' +</p> + +<p> +"When I looked up again Roger was at the door. +It seemed to me, from the glance he gave he was +waiting to say something more. And I resolved, +cost what it might, to hear it. We led my Mother +into the nearest chamber, and then leaving her with +the maidens, I went back to the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger was still waiting in the porch. +</p> + +<p> +"He came forward when he saw me. +</p> + +<p> +"'Did he say anything more?' I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"He hesitated an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"He said, 'The Draytons and the Davenants +might have to combat one another in these evil +times, but that we should never distrust each other, +and that he never had distrusted one of us.' +</p> + +<p> +"He said so to me, the last thing before he left +us. I said; 'And that was all?' +</p> + +<p> +"'The battle swept on; I had to mount again,' +he said, 'and I could not leave my men.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You saw him no more,' I said. 'You could +not even stay to watch his last breath!' +</p> + +<p> +"The moment I had uttered them I felt there was +something like reproach in my words, and I would +have recalled them if I could. +</p> + +<p> +"'I saw him no more until the fighting was over,' +he said. 'Then I came back and found him; and +we brought him home. It was all we could do,' he +added; 'and it was little indeed.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am sure you did all you could, Roger,' I said; +for I feared I had wounded him. 'I should always +be sure you would do all you could for any of us.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Should you, indeed!' he said. 'God knows I would.' +</p> + +<p> +"And there was a tremor and a depth of pleased +surprise in his tones that startled me, and I could +not look up. +</p> + +<p> +"'Would to God I could do anything to comfort +Lady Lucy or you,' he said. +</p> + +<p> +"'No one can comfort her, Roger,' I said; and +the tears I had been trying to put back choked my +voice, 'Harry was everything to her. He was everything +to us all. No one will ever comfort her more.' +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>You</i> will comfort her, Lettice,' he said, with +that quiet commanding way he has sometimes. +'God gives it you to do; and He will give you to +do it.' +</p> + +<p> +"And as he ceased speaking, and I went back to +my Mother, I felt as if there were indeed a strength +through which I could do anything that had to be +done. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 1.—Sir Launcelot Trevor has come with +tidings of my Father and my brothers. +</p> + +<p> +"They are in the West, save the two younger, +who went across the Borders after the battle of +Marston Moor, and have joined Montrose in the +Scottish Highlands, deeming that the king's cause +will best rally there. +</p> + +<p> +"The good cause is low; lower than ever before. +Soon after that fatal day at Naseby the town of +Bridgewater surrendered to General Fairfax. +</p> + +<p> +"Prince Rupert (with such courage as one might +expect, I think, from a chief of plunderers) thereon +counselled the king to make peace. But His Majesty, +never so majestic as in adversity, said, 'That +although, as a soldier and a statesman, he saw no +prospect but of ruin, yet, as a Christian, he knew +God would never forsake his cause, and suffer rebels +to prosper; that he knew his obligations to be, both +in conscience and honour, neither to abandon God's +cause, to injure his successors, or forsake his friends. +Nevertheless, for himself (he said) he looked for +nothing but to die with honour and a good +conscience; and to his friends he had little prospect to +offer, but to die in a good cause, or, what was worse, +to live as miserable in maintaining it as the violence +of insulting rebels could make them.' +</p> + +<p> +"What promises, or royal orders, could bind +men, with any soul in them, to their sovereign as +words like these? Least of all those who, like us, +are bound to the cause by having given up our best +for it. Nothing, my Mother says, makes a thing +so precious to us as what we suffer for it. Indeed, +nothing now seems able to kindle her to anything +like life, save aught associated with that sacred +cause for which Harry died. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot saith, moreover, that the rebels +have been base enough to lay bare to the eyes of the +common people of London the private letters from +His Majesty to the queen, found in his cabinet on +the field at Naseby. And that these letters contain +things which have even lost the king some old loyal +friends. Sorry friendship, indeed, or loyalty, to be +moved by discoveries, made only through treachery +and breach of confidence, which no gentleman would +practice to save his life. +</p> + +<p> +"But there is one thing Sir Launcelot hinted to +me which I dare not breathe to my Mother. He +said there was reason enough why Roger was near +Harry when he fell; for it was by the hand of one +of the Ironsides, beyond doubt, that he died. +</p> + +<p> +"But never by Roger's hand! Or, if possibly +such a curse could have been suffered to fall on one +like Roger, it must have been unknown to him. Of +this I am as sure as of my life. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot said that Roger's hand was wont +to be a little too ready to be raised. Ungenerous +of him to say it, and yet too true. Slowly roused; +but once roused, blind to all results. +</p> + +<p> +"How bitter his vain repentance would be if this +terrible thing were possible, and he once came to +know it. +</p> + +<p> +"How bitter and how vain! +</p> + +<p> +"But even if it were possible, and he never knew +it, but we knew it, what a gulf from henceforth for +ever between us and him! +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot breathe this to my Mother. And yet, +if Sir Launcelot's fears could have any ground, it +would seem a treachery, if ever Roger came to us +again to let her touch in welcome the hand that +dealt that blow! +</p> + +<p> +"I know not what to do. It is the first perplexity +I ever knew in which I could not fly to her for +aid and counsel. +</p> + +<p> +"What a child I have been. +</p> + +<p> +"What a child I am! +</p> + +<p> +"Can it be possible that our Lord thought of His +disciples being perplexed and bewildered at all, as I +am, when, just before He went away, He called +them 'little children?' Can it be possible that He +meant, Come to me, as little children to their +mother; when you want wisdom, come to Me!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XI. +</h3> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE'S STORY. +</p> + +<p> +The first trustworthy tidings we had of +the battle of Naseby were from Dr. Antony. +I saw him coming hastily across +the fields from the direction of Davenant Hall. +</p> + +<p> +It was very early in the morning. The village +had been stirring through the previous afternoon +with uneasy rumours, and I had not slept. I was +watching the light in the window of Lady Lucy's +oratory, and thinking how she and Lettice had +watched there together that terrible night so long +ago, saying collects for Roger, and how Lettice had +hastened to us in the morning, on her white palfrey +with the welcome tidings that Sir Launcelot would +recover. And now how far we were from each +other! What a sea between us! Two moats, (the +moonlight was shining on ours just below me,) +drawbridges, and fortifications. But deeper and +stronger than all the moats and walls in the world +lay between us the memories of those bitter years +of war, and ever-widening misconception and +division. Yet I felt sure Lettice loved us still. +</p> + +<p> +And as I was thus looking and thinking, I saw +Dr. Antony coming hastily down the road from the +stile which led across the fields to the Hall, where I +had parted from Harry Davenant that night when +he brought the tidings of Lord Strafford's execution, +and would not come in. +</p> + +<p> +My first impulse was to rush down the stairs and +unbar the door. But many things held me back. A +presentiment that the news he brought might be +such as there was no need to fore-date by hurrying +to meet it; an uncomfortable recollection of Job +Forster's letter, and of that conversation in which I +had said nothing right. +</p> + +<p> +I went, therefore, to summon Aunt Dorothy as +head of the household. She had so many preparations +to make, that Dr. Antony's hand was on the +great house-bell long before she was ready. Nothing +so slow she said as hurry, besides its being a proof +of the impatience of the flesh. She would even +fold up scrupulously the clothes she took off, +faithful to her maxim, that we should always leave +everything as if we might never return to it. +</p> + +<p> +The bell rang again. +</p> + +<p> +I went to see if Aunt Gretel was more capable of +being hastened. She, dear soul, was sympathizing, +excited, and agitated beyond my utmost desires, for +she could lay her hands on nothing she wanted. So +that I had to return to Aunt Dorothy, who, by that +time, was ready; and feeling how cold and trembling +my hand was as she took it to lead me +downstairs, she laid her other on it with an unwonted +demonstration of tenderness, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Child, we can neither hasten the Lord's steps +nor make them linger. But He will do right." There +was strength in her words, but almost as +much to me in the tones, which were tremulous, +and in the cold touch of her hand, which showed +that the blood at her heart stood as still as mine. +</p> + +<p> +We went down together in time to meet Dr. Antony +just as he entered the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +My Father was wounded, not dangerously, only +so as to render him incapable of further service in +the field, at least at present. His right arm was +broken. Roger was coming home with him. +</p> + +<p> +I wondered that Dr. Antony seemed so heavy at +heart, to bring tidings which made my heart leap +with thankfulness. What could be better than that +Roger was unhurt, and that my Father had received +a slight wound just sufficient to keep him at home +with us? +</p> + +<p> +Then it flashed on me in what direction I had +seen him coming. +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Antony!" I said, "there is sorrow for the +Davenants!" And then he told us how Harry +Davenant had fallen. +</p> + +<p> +We had little time for bewailing him, for the +household had to be roused, and refreshment and a +bed prepared for my Father. +</p> + +<p> +I had scarce ever seen Roger so cast down as he +was about Harry Davenant's death. One of the +noblest gentlemen the king had on his side, he +thought so pure, and true, and brave. If all had +been like him there had been no war, and no need +for it. "And," said Roger, "I always looked for the +day to come when Harry Davenant would understand +us. For we were fighting for the same thing, +though on opposite sides—for England and her old +laws and liberties; for a righteous kingdom. And +I always thought one day he would see where it +could be found, and where it could <i>not</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Roger could not stay with us long. But before +he went, Harry Davenant was buried, very quietly +in the old vault of the Davenants in Netherby +church. +</p> + +<p> +It was at night, for the liturgy had been abolished +six months before, and was unlawful, and the Vicar +risked something in suffering it to be read even by +Lady Lucy's chaplain, as it was. And we honoured +him and Placidia for the venture. Roger had asked +to be one of the bearers. Aunt Gretel, Rachel +Forster, and I, waited for them in the church-porch. +Slowly through the silent summer-night came the +heavy tramp of the bearers, until they paused and +laid their burden down under the old Lych Gate. +Then, while they came up the churchyard, we +crept quietly back into the church, dark in all parts +except where the funeral torches lit up a little space +around the open vault, and threw strange flickering +shadows on the recumbent forms of the dead of +Harry Davenant's race, knight and dame, priest +and crusader. It made them look as if they moved, +to meet him; for none of the living men of his +house were there, although of all his race none had +fallen more bravely. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the bier followed four women closely veiled. +The first, by the height and movement, I knew +was his Mother, and at her side, as the sacred words +were read, knelt Lettice. I think in times of +overwhelming joy or sorrow, when no words could +fathom the depths of the heart, when almost every +human voice would fall outside it altogether, or jar +rudely if it reached within, there is a wonderful +comfort in the calm of those ancient immutable +liturgies. They are a channel worn deep by the joys +and sorrows of ages. Their changelessness links +them to eternity, and seems thus to make room for +the sorrow which overflows the narrow measures of +thought and time. +</p> + +<p> +"Delivered from the burden of the flesh," "are +in joy and liberty," "not to be sorry as men without +hope for them that sleep in Him, that when we +shall depart this life, we may rest on Him as our +hope is, this our brother doth." How tranquilly +the simple words sank into the very depths of the +heart. +</p> + +<p> +All the more precious and sacred, doubtless, for +the tender sanctity which ever invests a proscribed +religion. +</p> + +<p> +Not that our Puritan faith is without its liturgies. +Older than England, and older than Christendom, +fused in the burning heart of the king of old, warrior, +patriot, exile, conqueror, and penitent. But it +is a perilous thing to make services like those of the +Church of England, dear enough already to every +faithful heart who has used them from infancy, +dearer still by making them dangerous. I never +knew how I loved them till we lost them. +</p> + +<p> +And as that night the sacred, simple, time-honoured +words fell like heavenly music among the +shadows of the dim old church, I felt as if the +decree which made them unlawful, and the grave of +the brother slain at Naseby, were slowly mining a +gulf which could never be crossed between the +Draytons and the Davenants. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, alas for truth! or at least for us who fain +would ever recognise and be loyal to her, when she +changes raiment with error, when the crown of +thorns is transferred to the brows of her enemies, +and the martyrs are on the wrong side. But such +transformations have not hitherto lasted long, and +meantime the crown of thorns may imprint its +lessons even on those who wear it by mistake. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sound of loud weeping. But when, +for the last time, before the coffin was lowered out +of sight, Lady Lucy knelt once more to embrace it, +she did not rise until Lettice went gently to lift her +thence; when it was found that she had fainted, +and had to be borne away. But for this, Lettice +would probably never have known we were there. +I went at Roger's bidding to see if I could render +any assistance. And then for a moment Lettice +drew aside her veil, and with a suppressed sob +clasped my hands in hers, and murmured,— +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God, Olive. I knew you would all feel +with us. Pray for her and for me, Olive; we have +no one like him left." +</p> + +<p> +Then she kissed me once, and hastened on after +the rest; as they silently went back through the +fields, bearing instead of the corpse of the son the +almost lifeless form of the mother. +</p> + +<p> +The day after the funeral Roger left us to go back +to the army. I told him what Lettice had said. +And he seemed more hopeful than he had been for +a long time about her not misunderstanding or +forgetting us. +</p> + +<p> +"We must never distrust her again, Olive," he +said. "She has trusted us all through." +</p> + +<p> +It was strange that he should thus admonish me, +for it was only Roger who ever had distrusted her +caring still for us. But such little oblivions are the +common lot of sisters situated as I was. I was far +too satisfied with his conclusion to dispute as to the +way he reached it. +</p> + +<p> +Yet for many weeks after he left we heard nothing +from any one of the Davenants. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Launcelot Trevor came and stayed there some +days at the beginning of July; and again I was +tormented with fears that he had been poisoning their +hearts with some evil reports of us. And as I sat +watching by my Father's bed-side, many a time I +rejoiced that Roger was away, so that he could not +share my anxieties. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that most of the nursing fell on +me, to my great thankfulness. Aunt Dorothy's +sphere was governing every one outside, and Aunt +Gretel's more especially preparing food and cooling +drinks. Dr. Antony was pleased to say there was +something in my step which fitted a sick-room. +Quiet and quick, and not hasty. And in my voice, +he fancied, too; cheerful, he said, as a bird singing, +yet soft and low. +</p> + +<p> +Be that as it might, my Father naturally liked +best to have me about him; me and Rachel Forster, +in whose presence he found that repose she +seemed to breathe on every one. As if she had +wings invisible, which enfolded a warm, quiet space +around her, like a hen brooding over her chickens. +Rachel Forster and Lady Lucy, of all the women +I ever knew, had most of this. And my Father +felt it. +</p> + +<p> +One day Rachel had a letter from Job, written a +few days after the battle of Naseby. +</p> + +<p> +"We began marching at three o'clock in the +morning of the 14th of June," he wrote. "The day +before we, the Ironsides, had come with General +Cromwell from the eastern counties to our army. +They had gathered after him like Abi-Ezer after +Gideon. The horse already there gave a mighty +shout for joy of his coming to them. By five we +were at Naseby, and saw the heads of the enemy +coming over the hill. Such a thing as they call a +hill in these parts. A broad up and down moor. +We fought it out in a fallow field, a mile broad, +near the top, from early morning till afternoon. It +began somewhat like the day at Marston Moor. +They came on first up the hill. Prince Rupert and +the plunderers were on our left, charging swift and +steady, crying out: 'For God and Queen Mary.' 'God +our strength,' cried we. They broke our left, +though this we did not know till afterwards. Our +right, that is we, General Cromwell's horse, fell on +their left and drove them back, flying down the hill +through the furze-bushes and rabbit-warrens. The +main body, horse and foot, fought hard, breaking +and gathering again, like the sea at Lizard at turn +of tide. This raging back and forward lasted till +Prince Rupert's horse and ours came back from the +chase. +</p> + +<p> +"The difference between keeping the Ten Commandments +and breaking them tells in the long run. +Plundering, firing villages, and slaughtering +innocents, shrinks up the courage of men after a time. +Prince Rupert's men could charge to the end like +devils, but they could not rally like ours. Neither +the prince's nor the king's word can bind their men +together again to stand a second shock, as Oliver's +word can rally the Ironsides. This difference +turned the day. The difference between keeping the +Ten Commandments (as far as mortal men can) and +breaking them. The king rode about fearless as a +lion to the last. 'One charge more and we recover +the day,' quoth he. But there was no power in his +word to rally them, and the sun was still high when +he and they fled headlong into Leicester, and we +after them. +</p> + +<p> +"But the Ten Commandments fought against +them there too. 'The stars in their courses fought +against Sisera.'" There was no night's rest for the +king in the houses he had seen rifled and dishonoured +but a few days before, and never lifted up his +voice to hinder it. And on and on he had to fly, +to Ashby-de-la-Zouch, Wales, and who knows +where? The plunder of Leicester lay strewn about +the fallow field at Naseby, where we camped that +night, with six hundred of the plunderers dead. +Yet God forbid I slander the dead. They fought +like true men. And brave, young Master Harry +Davenant was among them. Belike the true men +fell; and the plunderers fled off safe, as such vermin +do. Until the Lord and the Ten Commandments +take them in hand and bring them to account, +whether in the body or out of the body. +</p> + +<p> +"A hundred Irish Papist women were found hanging +about the battle-field, armed with long knives, +and speaking no Christian tongue. Poor benighted +savages! Very strange to think such have +husbands, and children, and hearts, and souls. Yet +belike so had the Canaanites. These things are +dark to me. I have wrestled sore there about, but +can get no light on them. +</p> + +<p> +"Two or three days after the battle a young +gentleman, a preacher, aged some thirty years, came +amongst the army. His name was Richard Baxter, +a puny feeble body, marked with small-pox, and +bowed and worn at thirty like an old man. Yet +had the puny body good quality of courage in it. +Courage of the soul, burning out of his dark eyes. +Courage, surely, he had of his kind. For he came +amongst our men, flushed and strong from the +victorious fight, and exhorted us as if we had been a +pack of school-boys. Called us—the Ironsides, and +Whalley's and Rue's regiments of horse—'hot-headed, +self-conceited sectaries,' Anabaptists, Antinomians, +and what not—us who had been fighting +the Lord's battles for him and the like of him these +two years! Took our camp jokes ill, about 'Scotch +<i>dryvines</i>,' 'Dissembling men at Westminster,' and +'<i>priest</i>byters.' Called us profane; us who had +paid twelve-pence fine for one careless oath ever +since we came together. +</p> + +<p> +"Argued with us, dividing his discourse into as +many heads as Leviathan, and using words from +every heathen tongue under the sun. If we had +the best of it, called us levellers and fire-brands. If +we were silent under his flood of talk, thought we +were beaten, as if to have the best in talk were to +win the day. As if an honest Englishman was to +change his mind, because he could not, all in a +moment, see his way out of Mr. Baxter's Presbyterial +puzzles. Scarcely grateful, I think, seeing our men +had once asked him to be their chaplain. Some of +us reminded him of it, and he said he was sorry he +had refused, or we should not have come to what +we are. And he rebuked us sore, and called us out +of our names in a gentlemanly way, in Latin and +Greek, as if we had been plunderers and malignants; +us of General Cromwell's own regiment. Of his +courage there can after this, I think, be no doubt. +Nor forsooth of our patience. And he hath gone +back to Coventry and spoken slanders of the 'sad +state' of the army! +</p> + +<p> +"Sad state of the army indeed, where every +morsel we put in our mouths is paid for, through +which every modest wench, if she were as fair as +Sarah, can walk, if she had need, as safe as past her +father's door. An army which had just won Naseby, +by the strength of the Lord and the Ten +Commandments—where not an oath is heard—where +psalms and prayers rise night and morning as from +the old Temple—and where a young gentleman like +Mr. Richard Baxter, could come and go, and call +the soldiers what ill names he chose, without hurt. +For a godly young gentleman we all hold him to +be, and a scholar, and honour him in our souls as +such, and for the chastening hand of the Lord on +the poor suffering, puny, brave body of him, +although in some ways he and the likes of him cost +me more wrestlings than even the Irish Papist +women with their knives." +</p> + +<p> +Wherever General Cromwell was throughout that +summer, there continued to be a series of successes. +Job's letters and Roger's were records of castles +stormed or surrendered, sieges raised and troops +dispersed, in Devonshire from Salisbury to Bovey +Tracey. +</p> + +<p> +On the 4th of August, Roger wrote of the +dispersing of the poor mistaken Clubmen; a new force +of peasants who had gathered to the number of two +thousand on Hambledon Hill, in Surrey. Blind, as +my Father says peasant armies mostly are. Aunt +Gretel turned pale when she heard of them, and +talked of dreadful peasant wars in Dr. Luther's time +in Saxony; Dr. Luther dearly loving and fighting, in +his way, for the peasants, but not being able to make +them understand him, like Oliver Cromwell now. +</p> + +<p> +These poor fellows had gathered like brave men +in the West to defend their homes from Lord +Goring's band—"the child-eaters" as some called them, +the most lawless and merciless among the Cavalier +troops, surpassing even Prince Rupert's, whom one +of their own called afterwards, "terrible in plunder, +and resolute in running away." +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "If ye offer to plunder or take our cattle,<br> + Be you assured we'll give you battle,"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +was the clubmen's motto. A good one enough. +But in time they became hopelessly involved in +political plots, of which they understood nothing, +demanded to garrison the coast-towns, picked out +and killed peaceable Posts, fired on messengers of +peace sent by General Cromwell, who had much +pity for them, and finally had to be fallen upon and +beaten from the field. "I believe," the General wrote +to Sir Thomas Fairfax, "not twelve of them were +killed, but very many were cut, and three hundred +taken—poor silly creatures, whom if you please to +let me send home, they promise to be very dutiful +for time to come, and will be hanged before they +come out again." So men and leaders were taken, +and the army dispersed, and came not out again; +and the land all around had quiet. +</p> + +<p> +But, as Job Forster said, it was the Ten +Commandments that fought best for us. +</p> + +<p> +The king's cabinet at Naseby, with all the false +and traitorous letters found therein in his +handwriting, did more to undermine his power than a +hundred battles. For in it was shown how, while +solemnly promising to make no treaties with +Papists, and speaking words of peace at Uxbridge, +he was negotiating for six thousand Papist soldiers +from Ireland, and for more than ten thousand from +across the seas; that he had only agreed to call the +Parliament Parliament "in the treating with them, +in the sense that it was not the same to call them +so, and to acknowledge them so to be." He spoke, +moreover, of the gentlemen who gathered around +him loyally at Oxford, as "the mongrel +Parliament." So that many of his old friends were +sorely aggrieved, and many neutrals began to see that, +call men by what titles you will, there can be no +loyalty where there is no truth. +</p> + +<p> +In the North affairs went not so prosperously, +though there, too, reckless ravaging wrought its +own terrible cure in time. For six weeks Montrose +with his Irish, and Highlanders, and some English +adventurers, laid Argyleshire waste, killing every +man who could bear arms, plundering and burning +every cottage. It was not like the war in England, +save where Prince Rupert and Lord Goring brought +the savage customs of foreign warfare in on us. It +was a war of clans, bent on extirpating each other +like so many wild beasts, and of mountain-robbers +set on carrying away as much spoil as they +could from the Lowland cities, and on inflicting as +much misery as they could by the way to inspire a +profitable terror for the future. Perth was sacked +by them, and Aberdeen, and Dundee. +</p> + +<p> +At Kilsyth, near Stirling, Montrose and his men +killed ten times as many of a Covenanted army, +against which they fought, as fell of the Cavaliers +at Naseby. Six hundred lay slain at Naseby; at +Kilsyth, six thousand. +</p> + +<p> +And the king, meanwhile, speaking of this robber +chief as the great restorer of his kingdom and +support of his throne, with never an entreaty to spare +his countrymen and subjects. +</p> + +<p> +Can any wonder that the sheep he commissioned +so many hirelings to fleece, robbers to plunder, and +wolves to slay, would not follow him? +</p> + +<p> +In person, indeed, throughout that summer of +1645, His Majesty was pursuing a kind of warfare +too similar to that of Wallenstein or Montrose. It +was in the August of this year, scarce two months +after the victory of Naseby, that the war surged +up nearer us at Netherby, than at any other time. +</p> + +<p> +The king had fled from Naseby to Ragland +Castle, the seat of the Marquis of Worcester (an +ingenious gentleman who spent his living in seeking +out many inventions). There he held his court +for many weeks; entertained with princely state +in the halls of the grand old castle, and hunting +deer gaily through the forests on the banks of +the Wye, as if his subjects were not themselves +in his quarrel hunting each other to death in every +corner of his kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst there tidings came to him of the successes +of Montrose, and he endeavored to go northward +to join him in Scotland. From Doncaster, +however, he fell back on Newark, turned from his +purpose by the Covenanted army of Sir David +Leslie, which threatened him from the North. And +then he turned his steps to us, to the Fens and the +Associated Counties, which General Cromwell's +care, and their own fidelity to the Parliament, had +kept hitherto high and dry out of reach of the war, +save for some few stray foraging parties. During +this August 1645 we learned, however, at His +Majesty's hands, the meaning of civil war. The +eastern counties lay exposed to attack, having sent +their tried men westward with Cromwell and Fairfax; +so that we had nothing but our own more +recent foot-levies to defend us. +</p> + +<p> +The king dashed from Stamford through +Huntingdonshire and Cambridgeshire, ravaging the +whole country as he passed, and detaching flying +squadrons to plunder Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire, +as far as St. Albans. Several times he threatened +Cambridge. +</p> + +<p> +On the 24th of August, he took Huntingdon by +assault, and four days afterwards, by the 28th, was +safe again within the lines of Oxford, with large +store of booty seized from the very cradle and +stronghold of the Parliamentary army. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt the Cavaliers had fine triumphing and +merry-making over the spoils at Oxford. But to us, +around whom lay the empty granaries and roofless +homesteads, and the wrecked and burned villages +from which these spoils came, the lesson was not +one of submission or of terror, but of resistance +more resolute than ever. Prince Rupert had been +teaching this lesson for three years in every corner +of the realm. His Majesty taught it us in person. +A lesson of resistance not desperate but hopeful; +for we could not but deem that a king who would +indiscriminately ravage whole counties of his +kingdom, must look on it as an alien territory already +lost to his crown. +</p> + +<p> +Many sins, no doubt, may be laid to the charge +of the Parliament and its army. But of two sins +terribly common in civil strife they were never guilty; +indiscriminate plunder and secret assassination. +The ruins and desecrations the Commonwealth soldiers +wrought in churches and cathedrals, will tell +their tale against us to many a generation to come. +The ruins the Royalist troopers wrought were in +poor men's homes long since repaired. The +desecrations they wrought were also in homes, ruins +and desecrations of temples not made with hands, +and never to be repaired, but recorded on sacred +inviolable tables, more durable than any stone, +though not to be read on earth, at least not yet. +</p> + +<p> +The village of Netherby lay just beyond the edge +of the royal devastations. But the cattle all around +us were seized, with all the corn that was reaped. +And at night the sky was all aglow with the flames +of burning cottages, and corn and hay-stacks. Our +own barns were untouched, but my Father gave +orders at once to begin husbanding our stores by +limiting our daily food, looking on what was spared +to us as the granary of the whole destitute +neighbourhood through the coming winter, and as the +seed-store for the following spring. Our sheds and +out-houses, meantime, were fitted up for those who +had been driven from their homes. Every cottage +in Netherby gave shelter to some homeless +neighbour. Rachel Forster's became an orphan-house. +Yet it was the private lesson which was taught our +own family through this foray of His Majesty's that +is engraven most deeply in my memory. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the summer, Cousin Placidia had +been more than ever a subject of irritation and +distress to Aunt Dorothy. The successes of Montrose +in Scotland, followed by the plunderings of the +king's troops in our own counties, had once more +caused her to feel much "exercised" as to which +was the right side. In February, after the +execution of Archbishop Laud, Mr. Nicholls had +obediently substituted the Directory of Worship for the +Common Prayer, sorely trying thereby Aunt Dorothy's +predilections for unwritten, or rather +unprinted prayers; Mr. Nicholls' supplications not +having, in her opinion, either unction or fire, being +in fact, she said, nothing but the old Liturgy +minced and sent up cold. Her only comfort was +in the trust that sifting days were at hand. (The +Triers had not yet been appointed.) But what +vexed Aunt Dorothy's soul even more than any +ecclesiastical "trimmings," was what she regarded +as the gradual eating up of Placidia's heart by the +rust of hoarded wealth. Placidia had at that time +an additional reason to justify herself for any amount +of straitening and sparing, in the expectation of the +birth of her first child. This prospect opened a new +field for her economies and for Aunt Dorothy's +anxieties. Even the general devastations of the +country, which opened every door and every heart +wide to the sufferers, only effected the narrowest +possible opening in Placidia's stores. Her health, +she said, obviously prevented her receiving any +strangers into the house; and it was little indeed +that a poor parson, with a family to provide for, +and nothing but income to depend on, and the +certainty of receiving scarcely any tithes the next +season, could have to spare. Such as she had, said +she, she gave willingly. There was a stack of hay +but slightly damaged by getting heated. And +there was some preserved meat, a little strong +perhaps from keeping, but quite wholesome and palatable +with a little extra salt. These she most gladly +bestowed. Aunt Dorothy was in despair, and +made one last solemn appeal. +</p> + +<p> +"Placidia," she said, "a child will shut up your +heart and be a curse to you, if you let it shut your +doors against the poor; until at last who knows +what door may be shut on you?" +</p> + +<p> +But Placidia was impregnable. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Dorothy," she said, with mild imperturbability, +"everything may be made either a curse or a +blessing. But to those who are in the covenant +everything is a blessing." +</p> + +<p> +"Sister Gretel," said Aunt Dorothy, afterwards, +"I see no way of escape for her. The mercies of +God's providence and the doctrines of His grace +freeze on that poor woman's heart, until the ice is +so thick that the sunshine itself can do nothing but +just thaw the surface, and make the next day's ice +smoother and harder." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"Never give up hope, sister," said she. "Our +good God has more weapons than we wot of, and +more means of grace than are counted in any of our +Catechisms and Confessions. Sometimes He can +warm the coldest heart with the glow of a new +human love until all the ice melts away from within. +And the touch of a little child's hand has opened +many a door, where the Master has afterwards come +in and sat down and supped. When the Saviour +wanted to teach the Pharisees, He set in the midst +of them a little child." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Children have dragged many a godly man back +again to Egypt," said she. "Many a rope which +binds good men tight to the car of Mammon is +twisted by very little hands." +</p> + +<p> +And the proposition being unanswerable, the +discussion ended. +</p> + +<p> +A few nights afterwards we were roused by a +suspicious glare in the direction of the Parsonage. +The next morning early we went to see if anything +had happened there. +</p> + +<p> +As we passed through the village, we heard the +news quickly enough. +</p> + +<p> +Just after dusk, on the evening before, a party of +Royalist troopers had appeared at the Parsonage +gates. The house stood alone, at some little +distance from the village, at the end of the +glebe-fields. The captain of the little troop said they +were on their way to join His Majesty at Oxford; +but seeing a light, they were tempted to seek the +hospitality of Mistress Nicholls, of which they had +heard in the neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Placidia's protestations of poverty were of +little avail with such guests. They politely assured +her they were used to rough fare, and would +themselves render any assistance she required towards +preparing the feast. Whereupon they put up their +horses in the stables, supplied them liberally with +corn from, the granaries, seized the fattest of the +poultry, and strung them in a tempting row before +the kitchen fire, which they piled into huge +dimensions with any wooden articles that came first to +hand, chairs and chests included; the contents of +these chests being meanwhile skillfully rifled, and +all that was most valuable in them of plate, linen, +or silk, set apart in a heap "for the king's service." +</p> + +<p> +The supper being prepared, they insisted on their +host drinking His Majesty's health in the choicest +wines in his cellar. The captain had been informed, +he said, that Mr. Nicholls had been induced (reluctantly, +of course, as he perceived from the fervent +protestations of loyalty) to disuse the Liturgy, and +even to contribute of his substance to the rebel +cause. He felt glad, therefore, to be able to give +him this opportunity of proving his unjustly suspected +fidelity, and of contributing, at the same time, of +his substance to His Majesty's service, by means of +the portion of his goods which they would the +next day convey to His Majesty's head-quarters in +the loyal city of Oxford, and thus save it from being +misapplied in this disaffected country, in a manner +which Mr. Nicholls' loyal heart must abhor. This +we heard from one of the frightened serving-wenches, +who had escaped towards morning, and spread +the news through the village. +</p> + +<p> +As the night passed on, they grew riotous, and +were with difficulty roused from their carouse by +the captain, to see about getting their plunder +together before dawn. They poured on the ground +what wine they could not drink, set fire (whether +by accident or on purpose was not known) to the +large corn-stack whilst hunting about the sheds and +stables for cattle and horses; till finally the inmates +were thankful to get them away early in the morning, +although they took with them all the beasts +they could drive and all the booty they could +carry. +</p> + +<p> +The sympathy in the village was not deep, and +Aunt Dorothy and I went on in silence to the +Parsonage, to give what help and comfort we could. +Neither Aunt Dorothy nor I spoke a word as we +hastened up the rising ground towards the house. +</p> + +<p> +The homely ruins of the farm-yard moved me +more than many a stately ruin. The remains of the +corn-stack, the flames of which had alarmed us in +the night, stood there black and charred; the stables +were empty and the cattle-sheds; the house-dog +was hanged to the door of one of them; the yard +was strewn with trampled corn, which the sparrows +and starlings, in the absence of the privileged +poultry, were making bold to pick up; and the +silence of the deserted court was made more dismal +by the occasional restless lowing of a calf, which +was roaming from one empty shed to another in +search of its mother. +</p> + +<p> +We went into the house. The kitchen was full +of the serving-wenches, and of some of the more +curious and idle in the village, who were condoling +with each other, by making the worst of the disaster. +The hearth was black with the cinders of the +enormous fire of the night before, and the floor was +strewn with broken pieces of the chairs and chests +which had helped to kindle it, and with fragments +of the feast. In a corner of the settle by the cold +hearth sat Placidia, as if she were stupified, with her +hands clasped and her eyes fixed upon them. +</p> + +<p> +When she saw Aunt Dorothy, she turned away, +and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Don't reproach me, Aunt Dorothy; I can't +bear it." +</p> + +<p> +"Didst thou think I came for that?" said Aunt +Dorothy. "But belike I deserve it of thee." +</p> + +<p> +And with a voice a little sharpened by the feeling +she strove to repress, Aunt Dorothy sent the +curious neighbours to the right-about, and disposed +of the two serving-wenches, by telling them the +very fowls of the air were setting such lazy sluts as +they were an example, and despatching them to +gather up the scattered corn in the yard. +</p> + +<p> +Then she came again to Placidia, and taking her +clasped hands in hers, said,— +</p> + +<p> +"I've learnt many things, child, this last hour. I +judged thee a Pharisee, and belike I've been a worse +one myself. I've sat on the judgment-seat this many +a day on thee. But I'm off it now. And may the +Lord grant me grace never to climb up there +again. I've wished for some heavy rod to fall and +teach thee. And now it's come, it can't smite thee +heavier than it does me. Forgive me, child, and let +us both begin again." +</p> + +<p> +Placidia looked up, and meeting the honest eyes +fixed on her, not in scorn but in entreaty, she +sobbed,— +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never have heart to begin again, Aunt +Dorothy." +</p> + +<p> +"To begin what again?" said Aunt Dorothy. +</p> + +<p> +"Contriving and saving to make up all the things +I have lost," replied Placidia. "I've been years +heaping it together, and it's all gone in a night!" +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy looked sorely puzzled, between her +desire to be charitable and her horror of Placidia's +misreading of the dispensation. +</p> + +<p> +"Begin that again, my dear," she said, at last. +"Nay; thou must never begin that again. It will +never do to fly in the face of Providence like that." +</p> + +<p> +Placidia uncovered her face, but as her eyes rested +on the desolation around her, she covered them +again, and sobbed,— +</p> + +<p> +"Just when there was to be one to save it all for, +and make it worth while to deny oneself." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay," said Aunt Dorothy; "that's the mercy. +That's precisely the mercy. The Lord will not let +the child be a curse to thee. He will have it a +blessing; so He says to thee as plain as can be, I +give thee a treasure, not to make thee rage and +stint and grudge, but to teach thee to love and serve +and give, not to make thee poor, but to make thee +rich. And He will go on teaching thee till thou +openest thy heart and learnest, and thy burden falls +off, and thy heart leaps up, and thou shalt be free. +I know it by the way my heart is lightened now. +He's smitten me down for my sitting in judgment +on thee. Not that I'm safe never to climb that seat +again. One is there before one knows, and the +black-cap on in a moment. Some one is always +near, I trow, to help us up." +</p> + +<p> +And turning from Placidia, she proceeded to a +quiet survey of the ruins, which, under her brisk +and discriminating hands, with such help as I could +give, soon began to show some signs of order. +</p> + +<p> +The fire was lighted; the calf despatched to +Netherby to be fed; sundry fragments of chairs +and chests to the village carpenter, to be mended; +the broken meat put into two baskets. +</p> + +<p> +"This is for the household," said Aunt Dorothy, +"and that for the fatherless children at Rachel +Forster's. One of the maids can take it at once, +Placidia, when she leads away the calf." +</p> + +<p> +Placidia was at length quite roused from her +stupor. She looked at Aunt Dorothy as if she thought +she were in league with the plunderers. +</p> + +<p> +"Me send meat to Rachel Forster's orphans!" she +said faintly; "a poor plundered woman like me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Better begin at once, my dear," said Aunt +Dorothy; "the fatherless are God's little ones. Better +give the treasure to them. You see our bags have +holes in them." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Mr. Nicholls returned. Placidia +appealed to him for his usual confirmation of her +opinions. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear heart," he said ruefully, "Belike Mistress +Dorothy is right. It's of no use fighting against +God. Who knoweth if He may turn and repent +and leave a blessing behind Him." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, Master Nicholls," said Aunt Dorothy, +"not that way. It's of no use trying to escape in +that way. You must let go altogether first, or the +Almighty will never take hold of you. It's hoping +for nothing again. If thou and Placidia will send +this to the orphans, ye must send it because it has +been given to you, and because they want it more +than you do. Because thou wast an orphan, Placidia," +she added, tenderly, "and He has not failed to +care for thee. Take heed how ye slight His staff +or His rod. Both have been used plainly enough +for thee. I'll divide the stuff," she concluded, +"and you must settle what to do with it yourselves, +afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +And insisting on Placidia's resting up-stairs while +she subjected the contents of the chests strewn +about the chamber-floor to the same process of division, +she left the house before dusk restored to something +like order, with two significant heaps of +clothing on the bed-chamber, and two significant +baskets of provisions in the kitchen, to speak what +parables they might during the night to the +consciences of Placidia and Mr. Nicholls. +</p> + +<p> +But before the morning other teachers had been +there. Death and Anguish—those merciful curses +sent to keep the world, which had ceased to be +Eden, from becoming a sensual Elysium, idle, selfish, +and purposeless—visited the house that night. +Another life was ushered into the world under the +shadow of Death itself. In the morning Placidia +lay feebly rejoicing in the infant-life for which her +own had been so nearly sacrificed. Rejoicing in a +gift which had cost her so much, and which was to +cost her so much more of patient sacrifices, toil and +watching, sacrifices for which no one would especially +admire her, and for which she would not admire +herself; rejoicing as she had never rejoiced in any +possession before. Not by any supernatural effort +of virtue, but by the simple natural fountain of +motherly love which had been opened in her heart. +One of the first things she said was to Rachel, +who was watching with her through the next +night. Very softly, as Rachel sat by her bed-side +with the baby on her knee, Placidia said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Strange such a gift should have been given to +me and not to thee." +</p> + +<p> +"And," said Rachel (when she told me of it), "I +could not answer her all in a moment, for there are +seas stronger and deeper than those outside our +dykes around our hearts. And it's not safe, even in +the quietest weather, opening the cranny to let in +those tides. So I said nothing. And in a few +moments Mistress Nicholls spoke again, 'For thou art +good and worthy, Rachel,' said she, 'and it would +be no great wonder if the Lord gave thee the best +He has to give.' +</p> + +<p> +"Then I understood what she meant, and my heart +was nigh as glad as if the child had been given to +me. For I thought there was a soul new born to +God as a little child, meek and lowly. The Lord +had led her along the hardest step on the way to +Himself, the first step down. And she said no +more. I smoothed her pillow, laid the babe beside +her, and she and it fell asleep. But I sat still and +cried quietly for joy. And the next morning, when +the light broke in, Mistress Nicholls looked up and +saw those two heaps Mistress Dorothy had set apart, +and then she looked down on the babe, and +murmured as if to herself,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Poor motherless little ones! God has given +me thee and spared me to thee. The poor +motherless babes, they shall have the things.' +</p> + +<p> +"And then," pursued Rachel, "I turned away +and cried again to myself half for gladness, and +half for trouble. For I thought sure the Lord's +a-going to take her, poor lamb, if she's so changed as +that." +</p> + +<p> +But Aunt Dorothy, when Rachel narrated this, +although she wiped her eyes sympathetically, at the +same time gave her head a consolatory shake and +said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Never fear, neighbour, never fear, not yet. +Depend on it, the old Enemy will have a fight for +it yet. Depend on it, there's a good deal of work +to be done for her in this world yet, before she's +too good to be left in it." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Davenant Hall, Twelfth Night</i>, 1645-6.—Only +four years since that merry sixteenth birthday of +mine, when all the village were gathered in the +Hall, and Olive and I gave the garments to the +village maidens of my own age, and in the evening +Roger stayed to help kindle the twelve bonfires. +</p> + +<p> +"And now we are walled and moated out from +the village and from the Manor as we were in the +old days of the Norman Conquest, when the Davenants +first took possession of these lands, and built +the old ruined keep, where the gateway is (whence +they afterwards removed to this abbey), to overawe +the Saxon village, where the Draytons even then +lived in the old Manor. I wonder if there is +anything left of the old contentions in Saxon and +Norman blood now. The rebel army is so much +composed, they say, both of officers and men, of the +stout old Saxon yeomanry, and the traders in the +towns; whilst ours is officered from the old baronial +castles, by gentlemen with the old Norman historical +names. How many of the higher gentry and +nobility are loyal has been proved these last six +months, since fatal Naseby, by the sieges (and, +alas! by the stormings and surrenders) of at least +a score of old castles and mansions, from Bristol, +surrendered on the 11th of September by Prince +Rupert to Bovey Tracey in the faithful West. +Thank Heaven, they gave Oliver Cromwell and Sir +Thomas Fairfax much trouble, Basing Hall especially. +In future days, when the king shall enjoy his +own again (as he surely will), I hold such a blackened +ruin will be a choicer possession to a gentleman's +family than a palace furnished regally. The +rebels called Basing House <i>Basting</i>, for the mischief +it did them. And our men called it <i>Loyally</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger Drayton hath shared, no doubt, in many +of these sieges. So stern in his delusion of duty, I +suppose, if this brewer of Huntingdon commanded +him, he would not scruple to plant his reble guns +against us. 'Thine eye shall not spare,' they say, +in their hateful cant. Sir Launcelot says they have +been chasing His Sacred Majesty from place to +place like a hunted stag; that Mr. Cromwell, +whom Roger loves above king and friend, never +sets on any great enterprise without having a '<i>text</i>' +to lean on! That before storming Basing Hall, he +passed the night in prayer, and that the text he +especially 'rested on' for that achievement was Psalm +cxviii. 8: '<i>They that make them are like unto them, so +is every one that trusteth in them!</i>' as if we Royalists +were Canaanites, idolaters, Papists, I know not +what. Fancy burning down a corn-stack to a +psalm-tune, or setting out on a burglary to a text. +Yet what is it better to burn down loyal gentlemen's +houses about their ears, from one end of England +to another. It is all Conscience; this dreadful +Moloch of Conscience! It was the one weak +point of the Draytons always. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Launcelot Trevor came here a week since to +see if anything can be done to strengthen the +fortifications. My Father was in Bristol when it was +stormed, and has followed the king ever since; two +of my brothers are in Ireland, seeing what can be +done there; two fled beyond the seas after the +defeat of the gallant Marquis of Montrose last +September at Philipshaugh, near Selkirk; and two lie on +that fatal Rowton Heath, where on September the +23rd the king's last army, worth the name, was +broken and lost. +</p> + +<p> +"We have made sacrifices enough to endear the +royal cause to us. I suppose this old house will be +the next. For Harry said it would never stand a +siege. But, oh, if I could only be sure Sir Launcelot +is mistaken in what he says about Roger giving +Harry his death-blow, much of the rest would seem +light. I have never yet told my Mother of this +dread. Sometimes when I think how Roger looked +and spoke that morning, I feel sure it cannot be +true. But he always said it was so wrong to +believe things because I wished them true. And now +the more I long to believe this false, the less I seem +able. +</p> + +<p> +"Only four years since that merry sixteenth +birthday, when I was a child. And then that +happy summer afterwards, when the world seemed to +grow so beautiful and great, and it seemed as if we +were to do such glorious things in it. +</p> + +<p> +"First the birthdays seem like triumphal +columns, trophies of a conquered year. Then like +mile-stones, marking rather sadly the way we have +come. But now I think they look like grave-stones, +so much is buried for ever beneath this terrible year +that is gone. Not lives only, but love, and trust, +and hope. +</p> + +<p> +"I said so to my Mother to-night, as I wished +her good-night. It was selfish. For I ought to +comfort her. But she comforted me. She said, +'The birthdays will look like mile-stones again, +by-and-by, sweetheart. They will be marked on the +other side, "so much nearer home," and perhaps +at last like trophies again, marking the conquered +years.' +</p> + +<p> +"On which I broke down altogether, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, Mother, don't speak like that, don't say +you look on them like that. Think of me at the +beginning of the journey, so near the beginning.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I do, Lettice,' said she. 'I pray to live, for +thy sake, every day.' +</p> + +<p> +"For my sake; only for my sake. For her own +she longs to go. And that is saddest of all to me. +</p> + +<p> +"For, except on days like these, when I think +and look back, I am not always so very wretched. +It is very strange, after all that has happened. But +I am sometimes—rather often—a little bit happy. +There is so much that is cheerful and beautiful in +the world, I cannot help enjoying it. And pleasant +things might happen yet. +</p> + +<p> +"I did love Harry, dearly; nearly better than +any one. I do. But to my Mother losing him +seems just the one sorrow which puts her on the +other side of all earthly joys and sorrows, with a +great gulf between, so that she looks on them from +afar off, like an angel. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose there is just <i>the one thing</i> which would +be the darkening of the whole world to most of us, +making it night instead of day. Other people leave +that sepulchre behind. It is grown over, and in +years it becomes a little sacred grass-grown mound, +or a stately memorial to the life ended there. +</p> + +<p> +"But to one, it has made <i>the whole earth</i> a sepulchre, +at which she stands without, weeping and +looking on. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>There is only one</i> Voice which can quiet the +heart there. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>The day after</i>.—Sir Launcelot and I have had +high words to-day. We were looking from the +terrace towards Netherby, and I said something about +old times, and that the Draytons would probably +resume the lands they had lost in old times at the +Conquest. +</p> + +<p> +"I fired up, and said not one of the Draytons +would ever touch anything that did not belong to +them. '<i>They</i> were not of Prince Rupert's +plunderers,' said I. +</p> + +<p> +"'No doubt,' said he, 'they hold by a better +right than the sword.' And with nasal solemnity, +clasping his hands, he added, 'Voted, it is written +the saints shall possess the land; voted, we are the +saints.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Sir Launcelot,' I said, 'you know I hate to +hear old friends spoken of like that.' +</p> + +<p> +"(When I had written bitter things myself of +them but yesterday! But it always angers me +when people are unfair.) +</p> + +<p> +"Here he changed his tone, and spoke seriously +enough. Too seriously, indeed, by far. He said +something about my opinion being more to him +than anything in the world. And when I went +back into the garden-parlour, not desiring such +discourse, he was on his knees at my feet, before I +could raise him, pouring out, I know not what +passionate protestations, and saying that I could save +him, and reclaim him, and make him all he longed +to be, and was not. And that if I rejected him, +there was not another power on earth or heaven +that could keep him from plunging into perdition, +which perplexed and grieved me much. For I do +not love him. Of that I am sure. But it is terrible +to think of being the only barrier between any +human soul and destruction. And I am half afraid to +tell my Mother, for fear she should counsel me to +take Sir Launcelot's conversion on me. Because +she thinks everything of no weight compared with +religion. But I cannot think it would be a duty to +marry a person for the same reason from which you +might become his godmother. Besides, if I did not +love, what real power should I have to save? +</p> + +<p> +"<i>At night</i> (<i>later</i>).—I have told my Mother, and +she says that last consideration makes it quite clear. +I could have no power for good, unless I loved. +And I do not love Sir Launcelot; and I never +could. +</p> + +<p> +"At the same time, when I opened my heart to +her about this, I ventured at last to tell her what +Sir Launcelot had thought about Harry and Roger +Drayton. I wish I had told her weeks ago. +</p> + +<p> +"For she does not believe it. She says Roger +would never have come and told us had it been so. +She has not the slightest fear it can be true. It +has lightened my heart wonderfully. Roger is +not quite just in saying I can believe in anything I +wish. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>March</i>.—A biting March for the good cause. +On the 14th brave Sir Ralph Hopton surrendered +in Cornwall. On the 22nd brave old Sir Jacob +Astley (he who made the prayer before Edgehill +fight, 'Lord, if I forget Thee this day, do not Thou +forget me'), was beaten at Stow in Gloucestershire, +as he was bringing a small force he had gathered +with much pains, to succour the king at Oxford. +'You have now done your work and may go to +play,' he said to the rebels who captured him, +'unless you fall out among yourselves.' Gallant +sententious old veteran that he is! +</p> + +<p> +"<i>May</i>.—His Majesty has taken refuge with the +Scottish army at Newark. +</p> + +<p> +"We marvel he should have trusted his sacred +person with Covenanted Presbyterians. But in +good sooth he may well be weary of wandering, +and may look for some pity yet in his own +fellow-countrymen. Not that they showed much to the +sweet fair lady his father's mother. +</p> + +<p> +"We hear it was but unwillingly he went to them +at night, between two and three o'clock in the +morning, on the 27th of April. A few days since +he left the shelter of Oxford, faithful to him so long; +riding disguised as a servant, behind his faithful +attendant Mr. Ashburnham. Once he was asked +by a stranger on the road if his master were a +nobleman. 'No,' quoth the king, 'my master is one of +the Lower House,' a sad truth, forsooth, though +spoken in parable. It is believed amongst us that +he would fain have reached the eastern coast, thence +to take ship for Scotland, to join Montrose and the +true Scots with him. For his flight was uncertain, +and changed direction more than once—to +Henley-on-Thames, Slough, Uxbridge; then to the top of +Harrow Hill, across the country to St. Albans, +where the clattering hoofs of a farmer behind them +gave false alarm of pursuit; thence by the houses +of many faithful gentlemen who knew and loved +him, but respected his disguise and made as though +they knew him not; to Downham in Norfolk; to +Southwell, and thence, beguiled by promises some +say, others declare throwing himself of his own free +will like a prince on the ancient Scottish loyalty, +he rode to Newark into the midst of the Earl of +Leven's army. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>August</i>, 1646.—The civil war, they give out +now, is over. Every garrison and castle in the +kingdom have surrendered. In June, loyal Oxford; and +now, last and most loyal of all, on the 19th of +August, Ragland Castle, with the noble old Marquis +of Worcester, who hath ruined himself past all +remedy in the king's service, and in this world will +scarce now find his reward. +</p> + +<p> +"In June, Prince Rupert rode through the land, +and embarked at Dover. Well for the good cause +if he had never come. His marauding ways gave +quite another complexion to the war from what it +might have had without him. His rashness, Harry +thought, lost us many a field. His lawlessness +infected our army. The king could not forgive him +his surrender of Bristol a few days after he was led +to believe it could be held for months. But in this +some think perchance he is less to blame than +elsewhere. Cromwell and the Ironsides were there and +they stormed the city, and it seems as if this +Cromwell could never be baffled. +</p> + +<p> +"With Prince Rupert went three hundred loyal +gentlemen, some despairing of the cause at home, +others, and with them my Father, on missions to +seek aid from foreign courts. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>February</i>, 1647.—The Scottish army has yielded +him up ('Bought and sold,' His Majesty said; others +say the two hundred thousand pounds the Scotch +received was for the expenses of the war,) into the +hands of the English Presbyterians at Newcastle. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>March</i>.—We have seen the king once more. +My Mother has heard for certain the true cause +why the king was given up by the Scotch to his +enemies. He would not sign their blood-stained +Covenant. He would not sacrifice the Church of +these kingdoms, with her bishops and her sacred +liturgy, though nobles, loyal men and true, nay +the queen herself, by letter, entreated him. My +mother saith he is now in most literal truth a +martyr, suffering for the spotless bride—our dear +Mother, the Church of England—and for the truth. +We heard he was to arrive at Holmby House in +Northamptonshire, and, weak as my Mother is, +nothing would content her but to be borne thither +in a litter to pay him her homage. I would not +have missed it for the world. Numbers of +gentlemen and gentlewomen were there to welcome him +with tears and prayers and hearty acclamations. +It did our hearts good to hear the hearty cheers +and shouts, and I trust cheered his also. The rebel +troopers were Englishmen enough to offer no +hindrance. And we had the joy of gazing once more on +that kingly pathetic countenance. He is serene and +cheerful, as a true martyr should be, my mother +says, accepting his cross and rejoicing in it, not +morose and of a sad countenance as those who feign +to be persecuted for conscience sake. He scorns no +blameless pleasure which can solace the weary hours +of captivity, riding miles sometimes to a good +bowling-green to play at bowls, and beguiling the +evenings with chess or converse on art with +Mr. Harrington or Mr. Herbert. +</p> + +<p> +"He will not suffer a Presbyterian chaplain to +say grace at his table, and the hard-hearted jailers +will allow no other. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank heaven the common people are true to +him still, as they took him from Newcastle to +Holmby House the simple peasants flocked round +to see him and bless him, and to feel the healing +touch of his sacred hand for the king's evil. Sir +Harry Marten, a rebel and a republican, made a +profane jest thereon, and said, 'The touch of the +great seal would do them as much good.' But no one +relished the scurrilous jest. And the blessings and +prayers of the poor followed the king everywhere. +Yes; it is the common people and the nobles that +honour true greatness. The Scribes and Pharisees, +I am persuaded, sprang from the middle-order +yeomen, craftsmen, chapmen. "Tithing mint and +devouring widows' houses," are just base, weeping, +unpunishable middle-station sins. The troubles of this +middle class are wretched, low, carking +money-troubles. The sorrows of the high and low are +natural ennobling sorrows; bereavement, pain, and +death. It is the sordid middle order that envies +the great. The common people reverence them +when on high places, and generously pity them +when brought low. My Mother says, belike the +sorrows of their king shall yet move the honest +heart of the nation to a reverent pity, and thus +back to loyalty, and so, as so often in great +conflicts, more be won through suffering than through +success. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>April</i>, 1647.—We are to pay our last penalty. +Our old hall is declared to be a perilous nest of +traitors and cradle of insurrection. A rebel +garrison is to be quartered on us. +</p> + +<p> +"Our expedition to Holmby, has led to two +results; it offended some of the people in authority +among the rebels, and thereby caused them to take +possession of the hall; and it so taxed my mother's +wasted strength that she is unfit for any journey, +so that we must even stay and suffer the presence +of these insolent and rebellious men in our home. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>April, Davenant Hall</i>.—Mr. Drayton hath been +here to-day. He looked pale and thin from the +long imprisonment he has had, and he hath lost his +right arm—a sore loss to him who ever took such +pleasure in his geometrical instruments, and played +the viol-di-gambo so masterly. +</p> + +<p> +"He gave a slight start when he saw my mother, +and there was a kind of anxious compassionate +reverence in his manner towards her which makes me +uneasy. I fear he deems her sorely changed, and +ofttimes I have feared the same. But then this +mourning garb which she will never more lay aside, +and her dear gray hair, which I love, put back like +an Italian Madonna from her forehead, in itself +makes a difference. Although I think her eyes +never looked so soft and beautiful as now. The +golden hair of youth, and all its brilliant colour, +seems to me scarcely so fair as this silver hair of +hers, with the soft pale hues on her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Drayton asked us to take asylum at Netherby +Hall till such time as we join my father +elsewhere. My mother knows what Harry thought, +and seems not averse to accept his hospitality. I +certainly had not thought to enter old Netherby +again in such guise as this." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE'S RECOLLECTIONS. +</p> + +<p> +The old house seemed to gain a kind of sacredness +when it became the refuge of that dear bereaved +Lady and sweet Lettice. Lady Lucy was much +changed. Her voice always soft, was low as the +soft notes in a hymn; her step, always light, was +slower and feebler; her hair, though still abundant, +had changed from luxuriant auburn to a soft silvery +brown; her cheeks were worn into a different curve, +though still, I thought, as beautiful, and the colour +in them was paler. Everything in her seemed to +have changed from sunset to moonlight. Her voice +and her very thoughts seem to come from afar; +from some region we could not tread, like music +borne over still waters. It was as if she had +crossed a river which severed her far from us, which she +would never more recross, but only wait till the +call came to mount the dim heights on the other +side. Not that she was in any way sad or uninterested, +or abstracted, only she did not seem to belong +to us any more. +</p> + +<p> +I wondered if Lettice saw this as I did. And many +a time the tears came to my eyes as I looked at +those two and thought how strong were the cords +of love which bound them, and how feeble the +thread of life. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Dorothy welcomed Lady Lucy with as true +a tenderness as any one. The silvery hair in place +of those heart-breakers—the hair silvered so +suddenly by sorrow—softened her in more ways than +one. One thing, however, tried her sorely. And I +much dreaded the explosion it might lead to if +Aunt Dorothy's conscience once got the upper hand +of her hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +The Lady Lucy always had a little erection +closely resembling an altar, in her oratory at home, +dressed in white, with sacred books on it; the Holy +Scriptures, A Kempis, Herbert, and others, and above +them a copy of a picture by Master Albert Durer, +figuring our Lord on the Cross, the suffering +thorn-crowned form gleaming pale and awful from the +terrible noonday darkness. Before this solemn picture +stood two golden candlesticks, which at night the +waiting gentlewomen were wont to light. I shall +never forget Aunt Dorothy's expression of dismay +and distress when she first saw this erection, one +evening soon after Lady Lucy's arrival. She +mastered herself so far as to say nothing to Lady Lucy +then, beyond the good wishes for the night, and +directions as to some possets which she had come to +administer. +</p> + +<p> +But the solemn change that came over her voice +and face she could not conceal. And afterwards +she solemnly summoned us into my Father's private +room to make known her discovery. +</p> + +<p> +"An idol, brother!" she concluded, "an +abomination! At this moment, probably, idol-worship +going on under this roof, drawing down on us all +the lightnings of heaven!" +</p> + +<p> +"I should not use such a thing as a help to devotion +myself, Sister Dorothy," said my Father; "but +what would you have me do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Help to devotion!" she exclaimed, "'Thou +shalt not make any graven image, nor the likeness +of any thing.' Sweep them away with the besom +of destruction, and cast the idols to the moles and +to the bats." +</p> + +<p> +"Sister Dorothy," he said, "you would not have +me take a hammer, and axe, and cords, and drag +this piece of painted work from the Lady Lucy's +chamber before her eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"Thine eye shall not spare," she replied, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +"But in the first place I must know that it is an +idol to Lady Lucy," he said, "and that she does +bow down to it." +</p> + +<p> +"Subtle distinctions, brother; traffickings with +the enemy. Heaven grant they prove not our ruin, +as of Jehoshaphat before us." +</p> + +<p> +For Aunt Dorothy, although she had forsaken the +judgment seat for private offences, would still have +deemed it an impiety to abandon it in cases of heresy. +</p> + +<p> +"Sister Dorothy," interposed Aunt Gretel, "in +my country good men and women do use such +things and do not become idolaters thereby in +their private devotion and in the churches." +</p> + +<p> +"Belike they do, sister Gretel," rejoined Aunt +Dorothy, drily. "The hand that would have pulled +down the Epistle of St. James might well leave +some idols standing. An owl sees better than a +blind man. But it is no guide to those whose +eyes are used to-day." +</p> + +<p> +This profane comparison of Dr. Luther to an owl +dismayed Aunt Gretel, so as to throw her entirely +out of the conflict, which finished with an ordinance +from my Father that liberty of conscience should +be the order of his household; and a protest from +Aunt Dorothy that, be the consequences what they +may, she would not suffer any immortal soul within +her reach to go the broad road to ruin without +warning. +</p> + +<p> +Which threat kept us in anxious anticipation. +We took the greatest care not to leave the combatants +alone; one so determined and the other so +unconscious of danger. +</p> + +<p> +At last, however, the fatal moment arrived. +</p> + +<p> +It was early in April, a fortnight after Lady Lucy +and Lettice took shelter under our roof. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Anthony had arrived from London with +tidings which made us all very uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +The Presbyterian majority in the House of +Commons, believing the civil war ended, were very +eager to disband the army which had ended it, but +which, being mostly composed of Independents, +they dreaded even more than the king. +</p> + +<p> +In February, they had voted that no officer under +Sir Thomas Fairfax should hold any rank higher +than a colonel, intending thereby to displace Oliver +Cromwell, Ireton, Ludlow, Blake, Skippon, and +Algernon Sydney, and, in short, every commander +whom the army most trusted, and under whom +their victories had been gained. +</p> + +<p> +They were to be disbanded, moreover, without +receiving their pay, now due for more than half a +year. It was also proposed that such of the +soldiers as were still kept together should be sent to +Ireland to settle matters there, under new +Presbyterian commanders, instead of those whom they +knew and trusted. +</p> + +<p> +The indignation in the army was deep. But it +was as much under the restraint of law, and was +expressed in as orderly a way, as if the army had +been a court of justice. The regiments met, +deliberated, remonstrated, and drew up a petition, +demanded arrears of pay, and refused to go to Ireland +save under commanders they knew. "For the desire +of our arrears," they said, "necessity, especially +of our soldiers, enforced us thereunto. We left +our estates, and many of us our trade and callings +to others, and forsook the contentments of a quiet +life, not fearing nor regarding the difficulties of war +for your sakes; after which we hoped that the +desires of our hardly earned wages would have been +no unwelcome request, nor argued us guilty of the +least discontent or intention of mutiny." +</p> + +<p> +No one, my Father said, could deny the truth of +this. The Parliament army had not eked out with +plunder their arrears of pay. +</p> + +<p> +On the 3d of April three soldiers—Adjutators (or +Agitators, as some called them)—had been sent +with a respectful but determined message to the +House of Commons. General Cromwell (attending +in his place in the House in spite of the plots there +had been during the past weeks, as he knew, to +commit him to the Tower) rose and spoke at length of +the danger of driving the army to extremities. +</p> + +<p> +And now Dr. Antony came with the tidings that +General Cromwell was at Saffron Walden, bearing +to the army the promise of indemnity and arrears. +He brought also a brief letter from Roger, saying +that now all was sure to go right. +</p> + +<p> +This news drew us all together, and it was not +until she had been absent some time that it was +discovered that Aunt Dorothy had left us. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Gretel was the first to perceive her departure, +and to suspect its cause. At once she repaired +to Lady Lucy's chamber, whence, in a minute or +two, she returned, and pressing me lightly on the +shoulder, she said, in a solemn whisper,— +</p> + +<p> +"Olive, it must be stopped; the Lady Lucy is +looking like a ghost, and Mistress Lettice like a +damask rose, and your Aunt Dorothy is talking +Latin." +</p> + +<p> +This was Aunt Gretel's formula for controversial +language. She said English was composed of two +elements; the German she could understand; we +used it, she said, when we were speaking of things +near our hearts, of matters of business, or of +affection, or of religion, in a peaceable and kindly +manner. But the Latin was beyond her. There were +long words in <i>ation</i>, <i>atical</i>, or <i>arian</i>, which always +came on the field when there was to be a battle. +And then she always withdrew. In this martial +array Aunt Dorothy's thoughts were now being +clothed. And Aunt Gretel thought I had better summon +my Father to interrupt the debate. +</p> + +<p> +I went at once and indicated to him the danger. +He looked half angry half amused. +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Antony," he said, "your medical attendance +is required up-stairs. My sister has recommenced +the Civil War." +</p> + +<p> +I flew up to announce the coming of the gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment when I entered the room the +controversy had reached a climax. Lady Lucy +was sitting very pale and upright, and on a +high-backed chair with tears in her eyes, and saying in a +faint voice,— +</p> + +<p> +"Mistress Dorothy, I am not a Papist, and hope +never to be." +</p> + +<p> +Lettice, behind the chair, with her arm round her +mother, and her hand on her shoulder, like a +champion, stood with quivering lips and burning cheeks, +and rejoined that "there were worse heretics than +the Papists, worse tyrants than the Inquisition." Whilst +Aunt Dorothy, as pale as Lady Lucy, and +with lips quivering as much as Lettice's, faced them +both with the consciousness of being herself a +witness or a martyr for the truth struggling within her +against the sense that she was regarded by others +in the light of an inquisitor and tormentor of martyrs. +</p> + +<p> +"An't please you, Lady Lucy," I said, "my Father +thought Dr. Antony, who is down-stairs, might +recommend you some healing draught. He has +wonderful recipes for coughs." +</p> + +<p> +And before a reply could be given, my Father +and Dr. Antony were at the door, and Aunt Dorothy +was arrested in her testimony without the +possibility of uttering a last word. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Antony seemed to comprehend the position +at a glance. With a quiet courtesy which introduced +him at once, and gave him the command of the +field, he went up to Lady Lucy, and, feeling her +pulse, observed that it was slightly feverish and +uneven, ordered the windows to be open, and +recommended that as much air as possible should be +obtained, by means of all but Mistress Lettice leaving +the room. He had little doubt then that some cooling +medicines, which he had at hand, would do the +rest. As I was going Lettice entreated me to stay, +which I was ready to do. +</p> + +<p> +And ere long we were all three quietly gathered +around Lady Lucy's chair, Lettice on a cushion at +her feet (where she best loved to be), I on the +window-seat near, and Dr. Antony leaning on the back +of her chair. She was discoursing to him in French, +which she spoke with a marvellously natural accent, +and which I had never heard him speak before. I +know not why, it seemed as if the language threw +a new vivacity and fire into his countenance, and I +felt very ignorant, and humbled, not to be able to +join. But this feeling did not last long, Lady Lucy +had a way of divining what passed in the mind, and +she called me near, and made me sit on a little +chair beside her, and drew my hand into hers, and +encouraged me to say such words as I knew, and +praised my accent, and said it had just that pretty +English lisp in it that some of the countrymen of +poor Queen Henrietta Maria had thought charming. +</p> + +<p> +She made Dr. Antony tell us moving histories +still in French of his ancestors, their daring deeds +and hair-breadth 'scapes. So an hour passed, and +we were all friends, bound together by the easy +charm of her sweet gracious manner, and had +forgotten the storm and everything else, till we were +summoned to supper. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Monsieur!" said she, giving him her hand +as she took leave of him, with a smile, "re-assure +Mistress Dorothy as to my orthodoxy, and make her +believe my sympathies are on the right side with +the sufferers of St. Bartholomew's Day. And Olive, +little champion," said she, drawing my forehead +down to her for a kiss, and stroking my cheek, +"never think it necessary again to interpose in a +battle between your aunt and your Mother's friend. +I honour her from my heart for her fidelity to +conscience. And if she is more anxious than necessary +about my faith—we should surely bear one another +no grudge for that. I know it cost her more than +it did me for her to exhort me as she did. And I +am not sure," she added, smiling, "if after all she +does not love me better than any of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Mistress Olive," said Dr. Antony, as we sat that +evening in the dusk, by the window of my Father's +room, while he wrote, "I would that Christian +women understood the beautiful work they might +do if they would take their true part as such." +</p> + +<p> +"What would that be?" I said, thinking, after +the experience of to-day, it might probably be the +part of the Mute. +</p> + +<p> +"To see that Morals and Theology, Charity and +Truth, are never divorced," he replied. "To win +us back to the Beatitudes when we are straying +into the curses. To lead us back to Persons when +we are groping into abstractions. For Books full +of dogma, Orthodox, Arminian supra-lapsarian, or +otherwise, to give us a home, a living world, full +of the Father, the Son, and the Comforter, of angels +and brothers. To see that we never petrify the +thought of the Living God into a metaphysical +formula, still less into a numerical term. Never to let +us forget that the great purpose of redemption is to +bring us to God; that the great purpose of the Church +is to make us good. When we have clipped, and +stretched, and stiffened the living Truth into the +narrow immutability of our theological or philosophical +definitions, to breathe it back again into the unfathomable +simplicity of the wisdom that brings heavenly +awe over the faces of little children, and heavenly +peace into the eyes of dying men. To keep the +windows open through our definitions into God's +Infinity. To translate our ingenious, definite, +unchangeable scholastic terms into the simple, infinite, +ever-changing—because ever-living—words of daily +and eternal life; so that holiness shall never come +to mean a stern or mystic quality quite different +from goodness; or righteousness, a mere legal +qualification quite different from justice; or, humility, a +supernatural attainment quite different from being +humble; or charity, something very far from simply +being gentle, and generous, and forbearing; and +brethren, an ecclesiastical noun of multitude totally +unconnected with brother. When women rise to +their work in the Church, it seems to me the Church +will soon rise to her true work in the world." +</p> + +<p> +"You speak with fervour," said my Father, rising +from the table, and smiling as he laid his hand on +Dr. Antony's shoulder; "the womanhood you picture +is something loftier than that of Eve." +</p> + +<p> +"Mary's Ave has gone far to transfigure the name +of Eve," he replied. "'Ecce concilia Domini' shall +echo deeper and further and be remembered longer +than 'The serpent tempted me and I did eat.' But," +he added, "we have a better type than Mary +for woman as well as man, in Him who came not to +be ministered unto but to minister. I was chiefly +thinking of the gifts most common, it seems to me, +to women, and least to controversialists, I mean, +imagination and common sense. Imagination which +penetrates, from signs to things signified, which +pierces, for instance, into the depth and meaning of +such words as 'eternity' and 'accursed'—which +also penetrates behind the adjective 'Calvinistic or +Arminian,' to the substantive men and women +whose theology they define. And common sense, +which, when a conclusion contradicts our inborn +conscience of right and wrong, refuses to receive it +although the path to it be smoothed and hedged by +logic without a flaw. +</p> + +<p> +"In other words," said my Father, "you would +say that, with women the heart corrects the errors +of the head oftener than we suffer it to do so with +us. We must remember, however, that the heart +and the conscience also are not infallible, and that +the same qualities which can make women the best +saints make them the worst controversialists. +Theology and morals being in their hearts thus closely +intertwined, they fight against a mistake as if it +were a sin. They quicken abstractions, and even +rites and ceremonies, into personal life, and are apt +to defend them with a blind and passionate vehemence +as they would the character of a husband or +a son." +</p> + +<p> +"Best gifts abused must ever be worst curses," +said Dr. Antony. +</p> + +<p> +And I ventured to say,— +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not just the lowliness of our lot that makes +it high? Can we help our voices becoming shrill, +if we will have them loud?" +</p> + +<p> +"Tune thine then, sweetheart, where first I learnt +how sweet it was," said my Father, stroking my +cheek. "By sick-beds, or by children's cradles, or, +in the house of mourning, or wherever good words +are needed only to be heard by the one to whom +they are spoken; there women's voices are attuned +to their truest tones." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And the next morning I had that walk in the +orchard with Dr. Antony, when he told me the secret +which my Father would persist in declaring (most +unwarrantably, I think) lay at the root of his high +expectations as to the future work and destinies of +women. +</p> + +<p> +And when, a few hours afterwards, after I had +been alone a while, and we had knelt together and +received my Father's blessing, and I began to +understand my happiness a little, and went and said +something about it to Lady Lucy, and especially +how strange it was that Dr. Antony said he had +thought of it so long, whilst I had not been dreaming +of it, she kissed my forehead, and said with a +smile,— +</p> + +<p> +"Very strange, my unsuspecting little Puritan. +For it crossed my thoughts the first hour I saw you +together, and that was yesterday evening. Ah, +Olive," she added, very tenderly, in a faltering +voice, "I had fond thoughts once that it might have +been otherwise. If my Harry had lived, and this +poor distracted realm had returned to her +allegiance, I had thought perchance some day to have +the right to call thee by the tenderest name. But +God hath not willed it so. And I try hard that his +will may be mine. He hath given thee the great +gift of a good man's heart. And I have no fear but +that thou wilt keep it." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XII. +</h3> + +<p class="t3"> +LETTICE'S DIARY. +</p> + +<p> +Netherby, <i>May</i>, 1647.—They have given +us the best upper chambers in the house, +one for a withdrawing-chamber, the other +for my Mother's and my sleeping-chamber. +This last has a broad embayed window commanding +the orchard, at the bottom of which is the +pond where the water-lilies grow that Roger +gathered for me on that night when Dr. Taylor and +Mr. Milton discoursed together on the terrace, in +speech like rich music, about liberty of thinking +and speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"England has been echoing another kind of music +all these years since, on the same theme; but it +seems as if we had drawn but little nearer a +conclusion. The Presbyterians seem as convinced of the +sin of allowing any one else to think or speak freely +as the poor martyred Archbishop was. The +Presbyterians, it seems, are for the Covenant (meaning +Presbytery), King, and Parliament; the Covenant +first. We for King without Covenant and with +Bishops. But the Presbyterians are against +conventicles and all sectaries (except themselves). +Herein, so far, we and they agree, and herein, some +think, may be a hope for the good cause. If we +could make a compromise, order might, it is thought, +be speedily restored. This, however, seems very +hard. They would have to sacrifice the Covenant, +which seems nigh as dear to them as the Bible. +We, the Church by law established; the sacred +links, my Mother says, which bind us to the Catholic +Church of all the past, which the king will die, +she thinks, rather than do. The only chance, therefore, +of agreement seems to be, if the Presbyterians +ever reach the point of hating or fearing the +Independents more than they love the Covenant. Then, +some think the King and the Presbyterians, +Scottish and English, might unite and overpower the +Independents; and—what then? +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot at all imagine. Because, when the +common enemy is gone, Episcopacy and the Covenant +still remain, and in the face of each other. Sir +Launcelot said the king thinks he has a very plain +'game' to play. 'He must persuade one of his enemies +to extirpate the other, and then come in easily +and put the weakened victor under his feet.' This +he has in letters declared to be his intention. I +trust the royal letters have been misread. For +such a 'game' seems to me very far from paternal +or kingly; and, except on far better testimony, I +will not credit it. But for me there is an especial +grief in all these matters. Olive, who takes her +politics mostly from Roger, seems to lean to the +Independents, who constitute the strength of the army, +and to General Cromwell, who is their idol; so +that whatever cause triumphs, nothing is likely to +bring peace between the Davenants and the Draytons. +</p> + +<p> +"At present, however, our peace in this house is +much increased. My Mother and Mistress Dorothy +have concluded a treaty on the ground of their +common loyalty to His Majesty, and their common +abhorrence of 'sectaries.' +</p> + +<p> +"Moreover, Mistress Dorothy is marvellous gentle +and kind to us. Having delivered her +conscience, she treats my Mother with a tender +consideration and deference that go to my heart, although +sometimes I think it is only from the pity a benevolent +jailer would feel for sentenced criminals. They +have been condemned. Justice will be satisfied. +And meantime, mercy may safely satisfy herself by +keeping them fed and warmed. +</p> + +<p> +"She says little; but she watches my Mother's +tastes, and supplies her with unexpected delicacies +in a way which binds my whole heart to her. +</p> + +<p> +"I scarce know why; but I always liked her. +She is so downright and true; manly, as a man may +be womanly. She is most like Roger in some ways +of any of them, only he, being really a man and a +soldier, is gentler. And when she loves you, it +seems to be in spite of herself, which makes it all +the sweeter. For she does love me. I am sure of +it, by the way she watches and exhorts, and +contradicts me. Especially, since I read her those +sermons that afternoon when we were waiting. I +asked Olive, and she told me Mistress Dorothy said, +that afternoon, she thought I had gracious dispositions. +That meant, I opine, that she liked me. She +wanted to excuse herself for liking so worldly and +Babylonish a young damosel as she believed me +to be. And, therefore, she has invested me with +'gracious dispositions,' and believes herself +commissioned to bring me out of Babylon, and to be a +'means of grace' to me, which, I am sure, I am +willing she should be. For my heart is too light and +careless, I know well. Except on one or two points. +And, meantime, I flatter myself I may be an +'ordinance and means of grace' in some little measure to +her, little as she might acknowledge it. It does +good people so much good to love (really love I +mean, not take in hand merely like patients) people +who are not so good as themselves. It sets them +planning, praying for others, and takes them away +from looking within for signs, and forward for +rewards; by filling the heart with love, which is the +most gracious sign, and the most glorious reward +in itself. +</p> + +<p> +"Sweet Mother, mine! we all have been great +means of grace to her in that way. +</p> + +<p> +"Think what she may, she would not have been +a greater saint at Little Gidding, although she had +chanted the Psalter through three hundred and +sixty-five times in the year. +</p> + +<p> +"I think she and Mistress Dorothy help each +other. They make me think of the two groups of +graces in the Bible. St. Paul's,—'Love, joy, peace, +long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, +temperance.' I picture these as sweet maidenly or +matronly forms white-robed, radiant, with low +sweet voices. They represent my Mother and the +holy people of Mr. Herbert's school. Then there +are St. Peter's,—'Faith, virtue, knowledge, +temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly-kindness, +charity.' These rise before me like a company of +knights in armour, valiant, true, and pure. In the +kind of plain, manly armour of the Ironsides, as +Roger looked in it that morning at Oxford, when +he turned back and waved farewell to me in the +court of the College. And these represent Mistress +Dorothy and the nobler Puritans. They are the +same, no doubt, essentially; love and charity, the +mother of one group, the king and crown of the +other. Yet they seem to represent to me two +diverse orders of piety, the manly and the womanly. +Together, side by side, in mutual aid and service, +not front to front in battle, what a church and what +a world they might make. +</p> + +<p> +"But the great event in the house now is the +bethrothal of Olive and Dr. Antony, which took +place on the very morning after Mistress Dorothy's +grand Remonstrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Antony left a day or two afterwards. And +over since we have been as busy as possible preparing +for the wedding, which is to be in July. Not a +long betrothal-time. But they needed not further +time to try each other. +</p> + +<p> +"It is very pleasant to be all of us occupied for +her, who is so little wont to be occupied with +herself. She seems in a little tumult of happiness, as +far as any Puritan soul can be in a tumult. +</p> + +<p> +"Many of these Puritan ways seem to me +wondrous innocent and sweet. +</p> + +<p> +"They have their solemnities, I see, and their +ritual, and ceremonial; and their symbolism and +sacred art, moreover, say what Mistress Dorothy may +to the contrary. +</p> + +<p> +"Tender sacred family rites and solemnities. +They have, indeed, no chapel or chaplain. But the +family seems a little church; the father is the priest. +Not without sacred beauty this order, nor without +sanction either from the fathers of the Church +(fathers older than Archbishop Laud's), the fathers +Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. +</p> + +<p> +"For instance, when Olive and Dr. Antony were +betrothed, Mr. Drayton led them into his room, +and laid his hands on them, and blessed them. And +that was the seal of their betrothal. Every Sunday +morning, Olive tells me, when she and Roger were +children, after family prayers, they used to kneel +thus for their father's blessing. Sacred touches, +holy as coronation sacring oil, I think, to bear about +the memory of through life. But then there is this +to be remembered. When the consecrating touch +is from hands which work with us in daily life, they +need to be very pure. No pomp of place, and no +mist of distance glorifies the ministrant. He had +need, indeed, to be all glorious within. +</p> + +<p> +"Family solemnities must be very true to be at +all fair. I can fancy Puritan hypocrisy, or a mere +formal Puritanism, the driest and most hideous +thing in the world. +</p> + +<p> +"Then as to symbols and sacred art. What else +are these Scripture texts, carved over door-ways, +graven on chimney-stones, emblazoned on walls? +'They are not graven images,' saith Mistress +Dorothy. But what are words but images within the +soul, or images, rightly used, but children's words? +Not that even as to 'holy pictures' and 'images' +they are quite destitute. What else are the paintings +from Scripture on the Dutch tiles in Mr. Drayton's +room, where Olive and Roger learned from +Mistress Gretel's lips their earliest Bible lore? It +is true, they are chiefly from the Old Testament. +But Adam and Eve delving, the serpent darting out +his forked tongue from the tree, Noah and the +animals walking out of the ark, are as much pictures +as St. Peter fishing, or the blessed Virgin and the +Babe, on church windows? What difference, then, +except that the Puritan pictures are on tiles at +home instead of on glass at church? 'They are for +instruction, and not for idolatry,' saith Mistress +Dorothy. But did not the monks in old times paint +their pictures also for instruction, and not for +idolatry? 'Centuries of abuse make the most innocent +things perilous,' saith Mistress Dorothy. 'When +the brazen serpent had become an idol, Jehoshaphat +called it a piece of brass, and broke it in pieces.' I +can see something in that. The sacrilege, then, is +the idolatry, not in the destruction of the idol. But +alas, if we set ourselves to destroy all things that +have been, or can be made into idols, where are we +to stop? Some people made idols of the very +stones of their houses, without any scriptures thereon, +or of their firesides, without the sacred pictures. +There are two things, however, which fill me with +especial reverence in these Puritan ways. First, this +sweet and sacred family piety. Second, or rather +first, for it is at the root of all, the intense conviction +that every man, woman, and child, in every word +and work, has to do directly with God, and that he, +by virtue of being divine, is nearer us than all the +creatures; that to Him each one is immediately +responsible, and that, therefore, on his word only +can it be safe for each one to believe or do +anything. Such conviction gives a power which ceases +to be wonderful only when you think of its source. +But alas, alas! what if this Divine word be misunderstood. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i>.—Roger Drayton has come, on a few days' +leave, to be present at his sister's wedding. +</p> + +<p> +"He hath brought the strange news that the +king is in the keeping of the army. We scarcely +know whether to mourn or rejoice. It came about +on this wise, as Roger told my Mother and me:— +</p> + +<p> +"It was reported in the army that the Presbyterian +party in the Parliament designed to remove the +king from Holmby, where he was, to Oatlands, near +London, there to make a separate treaty, in which +the soldiers were not to be consulted or considered. +</p> + +<p> +"On the fourth of June, therefore, Cornet Joyce, +without commission, it seems, from any one, but +simply as knowing that it would be agreeable to +the army; and to prevent this design of a separate +Presbyterian treaty, went, with some seven or eight +hundred men, to Holmby House, where His Majesty +had remained since we saw him in April. +</p> + +<p> +"The Commissioners of the Parliament, who +were His Majesty's jailers, were very indignant at +this interference of Cornet Joyce, and commanded +the gates to be closed, and preparations to be made +to resist an assault. Their own soldiers, on the +contrary, were of the same mind with the army and +the Cornet, and threw open the gates at once to +their comrades. Nor was the king himself, it seems, +unwilling. When Cornet Joyce made his way to +the royal presence, the king spoke to him with +much graciousness. He asked the Cornet if he +would promise to do him no hurt, and to force him +to nothing against his conscience. Cornet Joyce +declared he had no ill intention in any way; the +soldiers only wanted to prevent His Majesty being +placed at the head of another army, and that he +would be most unwilling to force any man against +his conscience, much less His Majesty. The king, +therefore, agreed to accompany him the next day, +this happening at night. +</p> + +<p> +"The next morning, at six o'clock, His Majesty +condescended to meet the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +"He again demanded to know the Cornet's authority, +and if he had no writing from the general, +Sir Thomas Fairfax. +</p> + +<p> +"'I pray you, Mr. Joyce,' he said, 'deal +ingenuously with me, and tell me what commission you +have.' +</p> + +<p> +Said Joyce,— +</p> + +<p> +"'Here is my commission.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Where?' asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +"'Behind me,' said the Cornet, pointing to his +troopers; 'and I hope that will satisfy your Majesty.' +</p> + +<p> +The King smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is as fair a commission,' he said, 'and as well +written as I have ever seen in my life; a company +of as handsome and proper gentlemen as I have seen +a great while. But what if I should yet refuse to go +with you? I hope you would not force me! I am +your king. You ought not to lay violent hands on +your king. I acknowledge none to be above me but +God.' +</p> + +<p> +"Cornet Joyce assured His Majesty he meant him +no harm; and at length the king went with the +soldiers as they desired, they suffering him to +choose between two or three places the one he liked +best. +</p> + +<p> +"So, by easy stages, they conducted him to +Childerley, near Newmarket. And it is said the +king was the merriest of the company. Heaven +send it to be a good augury. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger said, moreover, that His Majesty +continues to be of good cheer, and the army to be +friendly disposed towards him. They have hope yet +that Sir Thomas Fairfax, General Cromwell, and +Ireton may make some arrangement to which His +Majesty may honourably accede. +</p> + +<p> +"And, meantime, they allow him not only the +attendance of his faithful servants, but his own +chaplains to perform the services of the Church, which +the Presbyterians refused him at Holmby. Englishmen, +especially the common people, and most of +all, I think, English soldiers, have honest hearts +after all; safer to trust to than those of men armed +<i>cap-a-pie</i> in covenants, and catechisms, and +confessions. Surely the king will yet win the hearts of +the army, and all will yet go right. Roger, +meanwhile, is as stately in his courtesy to me as a +Spanish hidalgo, listening and assenting to all I say in a +way I detest. For it means that he feels our +differences too deep to venture on." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 2<i>nd</i>.—Roger has begun to contradict and +controvert me again delightfully. This morning we +had our first serious battle. +</p> + +<p> +"Yester eve I said something about abhoring all +middle states of things. It was in reference to the +poor peasants flocking around the king. I said +there was no poetry in mid-way things, or times, or +states, in mid-day, mid-summer, middle-life, or the +middle-station in the state. +</p> + +<p> +"He took this up earnestly after his manner, and +went into a serious argument to prove me wrong. It +was but a weakling and half-fledged poesy, quoth he, +which must needs go to dew-drops, and rosy clouds, +and primroses, and violets, for its smiles and +decorations, and could see no glory and beauty in +summer or in noon. Summer with its golden ripening +harvests, and all its depths of bountiful life in woods +and fields; noon-tide with its patient toil or its +rapturous hush of rest; manhood and womanhood with +their dower of noble work and strength to do it. +He could not abide (he said), to hear the spring-tide +spoken pulingly of as if it faded instead of ripened +into summer, or youth as if it set instead of dawned +into manhood. And as to the middle station in a +nation, its yeomanry and traders, nations must have +their heads to think and their hands to work; but +the middle order was the nation's heart. If that +was sound, the nation was sound, if that was +corrupt and base, the nation's heart was rotten at +the core. Which (ended he) he thought these last +years, with all their miseries, had proved the heart +of England was not. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger Drayton has a strange way of his own in +discourse, of putting aside all your light skirmishing +forces, and closing with the very kernel and +core of the people he has to do with. The way of +the Ironsides, I suppose. I have been used to little +but skirmishing in discourse among the younger +Cavaliers; light jesting talk whether the heart or +the subject be grave or gay. Even serious feelings +being hidden for the most part under a mask of +levity. But Roger seldom, perhaps never, exactly +jests. His mirth, like a child's laughter, is from +the heart, as much as his gravity. He will know +and have you know what you really honour, or love, +or want, or dread. +</p> + +<p> +"So it happened that to-day on the terrace we +came on the very subject I had intended always to +avoid; General Cromwell. +</p> + +<p> +"I chanced to allude in passing to some of the +reports I had heard against the General, some +careless words about his praying and preaching with +his men. +</p> + +<p> +"I had no notion until then how Roger reveres +this man, like a son his father, or a loyal subject his +sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +"He said, quietly, but with that repressed passion +which often makes his words so strong, that no +man who had ever knelt at General Cromwell's +prayers would jest at his praying, any more than +any man who had ever encountered him in battle +would jest at his fighting. That his word could +inspire his men to charge like a word from heaven, +and could rally them like a re-inforcement. That +after the battle his strong utterance of Christian +hope and faith could hearten men to die, as it had +heartened them to fight; that after such a battle +as Marston Moor, while directing the siege-works +outside York, he could find time to go down into +the depths of his own past sorrows to draw thence +living waters of comfort for a friend (Mr. Walton) +whose son had been slain, writing him a letter of +consolation (which Roger had seen) containing +words deep enough 'to drink up the father's sorrow.' +</p> + +<p> +"Then Roger spoke of the unflinching justice, +which was only the other side of this same +sympathy and care; how General Cromwell had two +of his men hanged for plundering prisoners at +Winchester, and sent others accused of the same offence +to be judged by the royal garrison at Oxford, +whence the governor sent them back with a +generous acknowledgment. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is <i>loyalty</i> you feel towards General Cromwell,' +I said, 'such a disinterested, ennobling, +self-sacrificing passion as our Harry felt for the king.' +</p> + +<p> +"He paused a moment,— +</p> + +<p> +"'If God sends us a judge and a deliverer what +else can we feel for him?' he said, at length; 'I +believe General Cromwell is the defender of the law, +and will be the deliverer of the nation, and if he +will suffer it,' he added, in a lower voice, 'of the +king.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Is it true,' I asked, 'that, as you once told us, +General Cromwell and the army are courteous to His +Majesty, and anxious to make good terms with him? +Can it be possible that there may yet be an honourable +peace?' 'I believe,' he replied, 'that all things +else are possible, if only it is possible for the king +to be true. But if a word, king's or peasant's, is +worth nothing, what other bond remains between +man and man? Forgive my rough speech. I know +your loyalty is a sacred thing to you. If the king +will deal truly, I believe General Cromwell will +make him such a king as he never was before. But +who can twist ropes of sand? For one who is +untrue seems to me not to be a real substance at all, +not even a shadow of a substance, but simply a +dream or phantasm, simply <i>nothing</i>.' +</p> + +<p> +"I felt myself flush. We have sacrificed too +much for His Majesty, not to believe in him. Yet +I fear he has other thoughts as to the double-dealing +to be permitted in diplomacy than Harry had, or +many gentlemen who serve him. +</p> + +<p> +"I could only answer Roger by saying,— +</p> + +<p> +"Adversity makes a king sacred if nothing else +can. If the king's cause were once more to prosper, +we might debate such things as these. But not +now, Roger. I dare not now.' +</p> + +<p> +"He looked as if words were on his lips, he could +scarcely, with all his reserve and courtesy, hold +back. But he turned away, and calling Lion from +the pond where he was chasing some wild-fowl, we +went into the house. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 4<i>th</i>.—Dr. Antony has come for the +wedding. He brought us a moving account of the two +days spent by the Royal children. James the Duke +of York, the Duke of Gloucester, and the Princess +Elizabeth, with His Majesty, at Caversham, near +Reading. The Independent officers of the army +permitted it. And they say General Cromwell +himself, having sons and daughters of his own, shed +tears to see the affection of the king and the +innocent playfulness of the children, knowing so little +of the dangers around them. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 5<i>th</i>.—Olive looked wondrous fair as a bride, +in her plain spotless dress, without an ornament, +partly from Puritanical plainness, and partly +because the family jewels went long since with the +thimbles and bodkins of the London dames into the +treasury at the Guildhall. So grave and serene, +pure and young, with her fair pale face, and her +smooth white brow and soft true eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"She was married in the church, with some fragments +of the marriage-service, the whole being forbidden. +</p> + +<p> +"It was sweet afterwards to see her kneel +while my Mother kissed her forehead, and placed +a string of large pearls round her neck, with a +jewel. +</p> + +<p> +"They had always a singular love for each other, +Olive and my Mother. The bride and bridegroom +rode away together after noon-tide towards their +London home. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 6<i>th</i>.—This morning I rose early and went +down to the pond in the orchard, and being led +back by the sight of it to the thought of Olive and +old times, strayed on towards the Lady Well where +first we met. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way I passed old Gammer Grindle's cottage, +and finding the door open, early as it was, +went in to tell her about the bride. +</p> + +<p> +"And there I saw Cicely and the child again; +and heard her terrible story of wrong and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"It made me very sad, and as I went on towards +the Well, it set me thinking of many +things. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did Olive never tell me? But then I +thought how I had more than once wilfully refused +to believe evil of Sir Launcelot, choosing to believe +what I liked. And a cold shudder came over me +as I sat by the Lady Well, to think how near danger +I had been, and how terrible it would have been +if I had cared for him (not indeed that I ever could). +I meditated also whether it was not yet possible to +get right done to Cicely. And I resolved as far as +I could for the future never to believe anything +because I wished, but because it was true; that is, +to try not to wish about things being true, but +to search out honestly if they are. And I was +standing looking into the Well, sunk deep in these +thoughts, wondering if any one ever really did quite +do this, when I heard a footstep and glancing +upwards, I met Roger Drayton's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"And then he told me of his love. I cannot say +I had never thought of it before. I had sometimes +even thought it might one day come to something +like this, and had even imagined a little, what I +should say, or perhaps, not so much what, as how I +would say many wise things to him and manage it +so ingeniously that in some marvellous way all the +difficulties about the Civil wars would vanish, he +would see he had made some mistakes, and I would +acknowledge candidly that our side had not been +blameless, and then I might admit, that, perhaps, +one day he might speak to me again on the other +subject. At least I know these dreams of mine +always ended in my being left in perfect certainty +that Roger would one day join in the good cause, +and Roger perhaps in a very little uncertainty as to +the rest. +</p> + +<p> +"But everything went quite the other way. +Roger was so much in earnest about what he had +to say, that what I had to say about politics +unfortunately went entirely out of my head. Roger has +left me with anything but a certainty or probability +of his ever being a Cavalier, as things are at +present. And I have left him in no uncertainty at all +about the rest. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid it was a golden opportunity lost. +But how could I help it? When he showed all +his heart to me, how could I help his seeing mine? +And since I am sure there is no one in the world to +be compared with Roger, how could I help his seeing +that I feel and think so? Besides, after all, +there is something base in such conditions. It +might have been trifling with his conscience. And +that would have been almost a crime. +</p> + +<p> +"Wherefore, I am sure I could not have done +otherwise, and I think I have done right. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet we made no promises. We know we love +each other. That is all. And I know he has loved +me ever since he can remember. And I know, with +such a heart as his, once is for ever? +</p> + +<p> +"And I know that now, if it were possible, that +the whole world could come between us; a world +of oceans and continents, a world of war and +politics and calumnies, it would always be outside, +it would never come between our hearts. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother thinks so too. I feel now, for +the first time, in some ways what it is to have a +Mother's heart to rest on. Although through all +her tender silence, I feel she sees more difficulties +in the way than I do. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>July</i> 10<i>th</i>.—A world of oceans and continents +no separation! How boldly I wrote! Roger is +gone back to the army; gone not half an hour, +barely a mile away, scarcely out of sight. If I +listen I fancy I can almost hear his horse hoofs in +the distance. And it seems as if that mile were a +world of oceans and continents, as if these moments +since he left were the beginning of an eternity, +altogether beyond the poor counted minutes and +hours and days of time. But a minute since, his +hand in mine, and what may happen before I see +him again? How do I know if I shall ever see him +again? In love such as ours, ever and never so +terribly intertwine! +</p> + +<p> +"Unbelieving that I am. Now I shall have to +learn if I understand really anything of what it is +to trust God and to pray. +</p> + +<p> +"Prayer and trust must be as deep as <i>this love</i>, +or they are nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"They must be <i>deeper</i>, or they are no support." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +OLIVE'S RECOLLECTIONS. +</p> + +<p> +We began our home in London in troublous +times. +</p> + +<p> +As we came near our house which was not far +from the river and from Whitehall, we saw something +which moved me not a little, a coach being +drawn to St. James's Palace, guarded by Parliament +soldiers. A few people turned and gazed as +it passed; and two children were looking out of the +window. These were the Royal children being +taken back to St. James's Palace after their two +days with the king at Caversham. There was +something very mournful in beholding these young +creatures, born to be children of the nation as well +as of the king, taken to their royal home as to a +prison, dwelling in their own land as exiles, their +Mother a fugitive in France, their Father a captive +among his own people. +</p> + +<p> +There is a terrible strength in the pathetic +majesty which enshrines a fallen king; a well-nigh +irresistible power in the crown which has become a +crown of thorns. A captive monarch is a more +perilous foe than a victorious army to the subjects +who hold him captive. How often during those sad +years, 1647 and 1648, I had to go over all the causes +of the civil war again and again; Eliot slowly +murdered in his unlawful and unwholesome prison; the +silenced Parliaments; the tortured Puritans; the +imprisoned patriots. How often I had to recall all +its course—Prince Rupert's plundering; the king's +repeated duplicity, slowly wearing out the nation's +lingering trust in him, and baffling all attempts at +negotiation. I had to repeat these things to +myself, by an effort of will again and again, in order +to keep true to our principles at all. +</p> + +<p> +And the conflict with this rebound of instinctive +loyalty, which went on in my heart secretly, was +going on in the city openly at the time when we +took up our abode there. +</p> + +<p> +So strong and general, indeed, was this rebound +of loyalty, that in that August, 1647, which was our +honeymoon, it seemed that the whole city of +London—at the beginning of the war the Parliament's +very strength and stay—was panting to return to +its allegiance, led by the Presbyterian majority in +the House of Commons. The conflict seemed altogether +to have shifted its ground. The enemy now +dreaded by the city was not the king, but the army +which its own liberal contributions and persevering +courage had done so much to create. Like the +German magician, Dr. Faustus, of whom Aunt Gretel +used to tell us, the city crouched trembling before +the untameable spirit it had evoked, as from moment +to moment it grew into more terrible stature +and strength. +</p> + +<p> +Sunday the 1st August, 1647, my first Sunday in +London, was a memorable day to me. +</p> + +<p> +Through all the hush of the Puritan Sabbath +there was a deep hum of unrest throughout the city, +a ceaseless stir of men walking in silent haste hither +and thither, or gathering for eager debate at the +corners of streets, in the squares, or in any public place. +It was a notable contrast to the cheerful stir of +animal life and the deep under-stillness at Netherby. +</p> + +<p> +On the Friday before, the House of Commons had +been invaded, not as once in the beginning of the +strife by the king trampling on "Privilege" in quest +of five "traitors," but by a crowd of 'prentices with +hats on, clamouring for the king against the army. +</p> + +<p> +Then the two Speakers of the Lords and Commons +had fled to the army, with the mace, and all +the Independent members. +</p> + +<p> +The eleven banished Presbyterian members had +returned; among them Denzil Hollis (one of the +king's fated "five traitors" who had afterwards +withstood the royal forces so gallantly at Brentford) +and Sir John Clotworthy, whose zeal had pursued +Archbishop Laud with theological questions +even on the scaffold. +</p> + +<p> +Recruitings, gatherings of men and arms, and +drillings and gun-practice had been going on in all +quarters of the city on the Saturday. +</p> + +<p> +On Monday these were renewed with the earliest +light of the summer morning. Drums beating, +trumpets calling, 'prentices hurrahing on all sides, +"No peace with Sectaries." The London militia, +"one and all," against the factious army, then +believed to be couching tranquilly near Bedford. +</p> + +<p> +But on Tuesday the army rose from its lair, and +advanced to Hounslow. Then all Southwark came +pouring in terrified throngs across London Bridge, +demanding peace with the army, and declaring they +would not fight. The Presbyterian General Poyntz +was indignant, and there was tumult and bloodshed +in the streets. +</p> + +<p> +Closer and closer that defied but dreaded monster +of an army came, every step forward and every halt +watched with fluctuations of hope and fear in the +city. The army, meanwhile, strong in the presence +of the king, the speakers, the mace, and Oliver Cromwell, +looked on itself as not only representing but <i>being</i> +all the three powers of the state combined, inspired +by an invisible power stronger than all states; and +so it advanced majestically free from hurry or +disorder. Not a provision-cart or pack-horse was +stopped on its way into the city. And on Friday, +August the 9th, the army appeared in the city, +marching three deep through Hyde Park with +boughs of laurel in their hats, through Westminster, +along the Strand, through the City, to the Tower. +In a day or two they were quietly established +in the villages around, the headquarters being at +Putney. The king was lodged the while at Hampton Court. +</p> + +<p> +Not an act of vengeance nor of disorder, as far as +I know, disgraced their triumph. Not that this was +any matter of wonder to us. Our wonder was that +sober and godly citizens should wonder at the +soberness and godliness of the army, every regiment +of which was a worshipping congregation, and the +soul of it Oliver Cromwell. +</p> + +<p> +Job Forster was sorely vexed at the evil reports +spread concerning the soldiers. We saw him often +during that autumn. +</p> + +<p> +"Have they forgotten," he said, "that we have +won Marston Moor and Naseby for them? that we +have been marching through the land all these +years, and not left a godly homestead nor a family +the worse for us throughout the length and breadth +of the country? A man might think it was we who +sacked Leicester and plundered and burnt villages +and farms far and wide. They should have heard +the prayers our poor men poured forth by the camp-fires +on the battle-fields where we shed our blood +for them. Such prayers as might well-nigh lift the +roofs from their great vaults of churches, and belike +the great stone also from their hearts. Men creeping +easily among streets, praying safely as long as +they like behind walls, and sleeping every night on +feather-beds, might be the better for a good stretch +now and then in one of our Cromwell's marches, +and a hard bed on the moors, and a good look +right up into the sky, beyond the roofs, and the +clouds, and the stars, and the Covenants and +Confessions." +</p> + +<p> +Roger also chafed much at the citizens, but most +of all at their misunderstanding of General +Cromwell. All that autumn, said Roger, the General, +with Ireton, Vane, and Harry Marten, and other +faithful men, were labouring hard to establish +peace on a lasting foundation, as the proposals of +the army proved. They would have provided that +His Majesty's person, the queen, and the royal issue +should be restored to honour and all personal rights; +that the royal authority over the militia should be +subject to the advice of Parliament for ten years; +that all civil penalties for ecclesiastical offences (for +instance, whether for using or disusing the Common +Prayer), should be removed; that some old decayed +boroughs should be disfranchised, and the representation +be made more equal; that parliaments should +last two years, not to be dissolved except by their +own consent, unless they had sat one hundred and +twenty days; that grand jurymen should be chosen +in some impartial way, and not at the discretion of +the sheriff. But no man would have it so. The +Levellers in the army clamoured for justice on the +"Chief Delinquent," and declared that General +Cromwell had betrayed them to the king. There +was a mutiny which Cromwell himself barely +succeeded in quelling. The Presbyterians would not +give up the right to enforce the Covenant. The +king carried on negotiations at the same time with +General Cromwell, with the Presbyterians, and with +the Irish Papists; intending, as was showed, alas! too +surely, from intercepted letters, to be true to +none, except, perchance, the last. +</p> + +<p> +On November the 12th, early in the morning, the +news flashed through the city, cried from street to +street, that the king had fled from Hampton Court; +and Roger, who was with us, that morning, said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Once more General Cromwell would have saved +the king and the country. But the king will not be +saved. Now he must turn wholly to the country." +</p> + +<p> +"But what," replied my husband, "if the country +also refuses to be saved by General Cromwell?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then for a New England across the seas," said +Roger. "But we are not come to that yet." +</p> + +<p> +For even after the king's flight Roger clung to +the hope of reconciliation, his hopes nourished by +secret fountains flowing from the very icebergs of +his fears. For with the bond which bound People +and King, might be snapped for him the bond, not +indeed of love, but of hope between him and Lettice. +</p> + +<p> +Still throughout that dreary winter negotiations +went on between the Parliament and His Majesty +at the Castle of Carisbrook. More and more +hopeless as more and more men became mournfully +convinced of the king's untruth. Until, in April, 1648, +when, from the upper windows of our house, I could +see on one side the trees bursting into leaf in +St. James' Park, and on the other the river shining with +a thousand tints of green and gold with the reflection +of the wooded gardens of the palaces and mansions +from Westminster to the Temple; when the +fleets of swans began to pass by on their way to +build their nests in the reedy islets by Richmond +or Kew, the news came from all quarters that, +amidst all this sweet stir of natural life, the country +was stirring with fatal insurrections from Kent to +the Scottish borders. +</p> + +<p> +The first outburst was in London itself. +</p> + +<p> +A few 'prentices were playing at bowls on Sunday, +April 9th, in Moorfields, during church time. +The train-bands tried to disperse them. They +fought, were routed by the train-bands, but rallied +quickly to the old cry of "Clubs." All through +that night we heard the tumult surging up and +down through the city. The watermen, a powerful +body of men, joined them. The cry was, "For God +and King Charles." And not till the Ironsides +charged on them from Westminster was the riot +quelled. +</p> + +<p> +Then came tidings that Chepstow and Pembroke +were taken by the royalists, and that a Scottish +army of forty thousand was coming across the borders +to undo all that had been done and to restore +the king. +</p> + +<p> +About that time Roger came into the chamber +where I was busied with confections, and unlacing +and laying aside his helmet, he sat down in silence. +</p> + +<p> +His face was fixed and very pale. +</p> + +<p> +"No ill-tidings?" I said. +</p> + +<p> +"I ought not to think so," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And then he told me of a solemn prayer-meeting, +held throughout the day before at Windsor Castle, +by the army leaders. How some of them, being +"sore perplexed that what they had judged to do +for the good of these poor nations had not been +accepted by them, were minded to lay down arms, +disband, and return each to his home, there to +suffer after the example of Him who, having done what +He could to save His people, sealed His life by +suffering." But others were differently minded, and +striving to trace back the causes of their present +divisions and weakness, they came at last to what +they believed the root, those cursed carnal +conferences which their own conceited wisdom had +prompted them to the year before with the king's +party. +</p> + +<p> +Then Major Goffe solemnly rehearsed from the +Scripture the words, "Turn you at my reproof, and +I will pour out my Spirit unto you;" and thereupon +their sin and their duty was set unanimously with +weight on each heart, so that none was able to +speak a word to each other for bitter weeping, at +the sense and shame of their sins and their base fear +of men." "Cromwell, Ireton, and his Ironsides +weeping bitterly! It was a thing not to forget," +said Roger, pausing. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, Roger," said I, trembling, "if this was +the sin they wept for, what is the <i>duty</i> they see +before them?" +</p> + +<p> +Roger bowed his forehead on his hands as they +rested on the table before him, and his reply came +muffled and slow. +</p> + +<p> +"'To call Charles Stuart, that man of blood, to +an account for that blood he hath shed and mischief +he hath done to his utmost against the Lord's cause +and people in these poor nations.' This is what +they deem their duty," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Call the king to an account, Roger!" I said, +"the king!" +</p> + +<p> +I could scarce speak the word for horror. +</p> + +<p> +"Kings have to be called to account," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, in heaven," I said. "But on earth, Roger, +on earth never." +</p> + +<p> +"Herod was called to account on earth, Olive," +said he. +</p> + +<p> +"True, but it was by God, Roger," I said. "Not +by man! never by man!" +</p> + +<p> +"By the law, Olive," he said; "by God's law, +which is above all men." +</p> + +<p> +"But what men can ever have right to execute +the law on a king?" I said; "on their own king?" +</p> + +<p> +"Woe to the men who have to do it," said Roger; +"but bitterer woe to the man who does not the +work God sets him to do, whatever woe it brings +on the doing. Olive, who gave," he added, mournfully, +"sanction to Laud and Strafford's oppressions, +and to Prince Rupert's plunderings?" +</p> + +<p> +I could only weep. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Roger," I said, "let the thunderbolt, or the +pestilence, or any of God's terrible angels do this +work in His time. They are strong and swift +enough. It is not for men." +</p> + +<p> +He made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +"What lies between this terrible resolve and its +execution?" I asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Chepstow and Pembroke to be besieged and +taken; Wales to be reconquered; the Scottish army +of forty thousand to be driven back over the +borders," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Then there is a hope of escape for the king yet." +</p> + +<p> +"There is an interval, Olive," he replied. "These +things must take time. But they must be done. +In a few days, General Cromwell is to lead us forth +to do them. The order is given for the army to +march to Wales." +</p> + +<p> +I did not venture to mention Lettice's name to +him. We both knew too well what a gulf this terrible +resolve, if ever it came to action, must create +between us. But before he left he said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Olive, I don't think it is cowardice not to say +anything of this to Lettice yet. Her mother, she +writes to-day, is failing so sadly. And there are so +many chances in battle. If I fall, I need not leave +on her memory of me what would so embitter +sorrow to her. +</p> + +<p> +"And the king might escape," thought I. "His +Majesty had all but succeeded in getting through +the bars of his chamber-window not a month since. +But I did not say this to Roger." +</p> + +<p> +On the next day, the 3rd of May, the army marched +forth, and with it Roger and Job Forster. And +my husband went with them on his work of mercy. +</p> + +<p> +So that this summer of 1648 was a very anxious +and solitary one for me. I longed much to see my +Father, but he was occupied in quelling insurrection +in the North. And the city was so unquiet, I +thought it selfish to send for either of my aunts. +</p> + +<p> +Not that I was without friends. Now and then +it fortified me greatly to have a glimpse of Mr. John +Milton in his small house at Holborn; to hear his +strong words of determination and hope for the +English people; and, perchance, to catch some +strains from his organ. +</p> + +<p> +But my chief solaces were, first the morning +exercises, between six and eight of the clock, at +St. Margaret's Church near the Abby, where there was +daily prayer, and praise, and reading of God's word, +with comments to press it home to the heart, from +divers excellent and godly ministers. +</p> + +<p> +And next, a friendship I had made with good +Mr. John Henry a Welsh gentleman who kept the royal +garden and orchard at Whitehall, and lived in a +pleasant house close on Whitehall Stairs. His wife +had died scarce three years before, of a consumption, +and it was edifying to hear him and his daughters +speak of her virtue and piety; how she had +looked well to the ways of her household, had +prayed daily with them, catechized her children, and +devoted her only son Philip to the work of the +ministry in his infancy, and how a little before she died +she had said, "My head is in heaven, my heart is in +heaven; it is but one step more and I shall be there +too." +</p> + +<p> +This friendship solaced me for many causes; +primarily for three: in that Mr. Henry was a godly +gentleman; in that he lived in a garden by fair +water, which reminded me of Netherby; and in that +he was a Royalist. For it did my heart good to +near some good words spoken for the captive king, +poor gentleman; and I have been wont ever to gain +benefit from good men who differ from us on party +points. With such we leave the party differences, +and fly to the common harmonies, which are deeper. +</p> + +<p> +Many a delightsome hour have I spent in Mr. Henry's +house in the orchard, by the river, watching +the boats, and gay barges, and the fishers, and the +white fleets of swans, and the flow of the broad +river sweeping by, always like a poem of human +life, set to a stately organ music, plying my needle +meanwhile beside the young daughters of the house, +with cheerful converse. But most of all I loved to +hearken to the father's discourse concerning the +king and the court in the days gone by. How the +young princes used to play with his Philip, and gave +him gifts, and had wondrous courtesy for him; and +how Archbishop Laud took a particular kindness +for him when he was a child, because he would be +very officious to attend to the water-gate (which +was part of his father's charge), to let the archbishop +through when he came late from council, to +cross the water to Lambeth; and how afterwards +the lad Philip had been taken to see the fallen +archbishop in the Tower, and he had given him some +"new money." +</p> + +<p> +It was strange to think how the great River of +Time had borne all that stately company away, +king, court, archbishop, council, like some fleeting +pomp of gay barges beneath the windows, or like +the masques and pageants they had delighted in, of +which Mr. Henry told me. It was good, too, to +have such touches of simple kindness, as remembering +a child's taste for bright new money, thrown +into the dark picture we Puritans had among us of +the persecutor of our brethren. It is good for the +persecuted to feel by some human touch that their +persecutors are human; good while the persecuted +suffer, good beyond price if ever they come to rule +and judge. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, moreover, Mr. Philip the son came +home from Christchurch, Oxford, where he was a +student, and his discourse was wondrous sacred and +pleasant for so young a gentleman. One thing I +remember he said which was a special solace to me. +He would blame those who laid so much stress on +every one knowing the exact time of their +conversion. "Who can so soon be aware of the +daybreak," quoth he, "or of the springing up of the +seed sown? The blind man in the Gospel is our +example. This and that concerning the recovering +of his sight he knew not: 'But this one thing I +know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.'" Which +words have often returned to my comfort. +In that, instead of sending me back into my past +life, and down into my heart to look for tokens of +grace, they set me looking up to my Lord, to see +his gracious countenance; and in looking I am +enlightened, be it for the first time, or the thousand +and first. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the great tide of Time was flowing on, +bearing on its breast to the sea royal fleets, and +little row-boats such as mine. +</p> + +<p> +In July the sailors of the fleet suddenly declared +for the king, landed the Parliament admiral, and +crossing the Channel, took on board the Prince of +Wales, acknowledging him as their commander. +</p> + +<p> +At this news my heart beat as high with hope as +the fiercest royalist's. The Prince of Wales with a +fleet in the Downs! the king his father in prison +close to the shore at Carisbrook! what could hinder +a rescue? But no rescue was attempted. Weeks +passed on—the opportunity was lost; the fleet +was won back to the Parliament, and the king +remained at Carisbrook. I have never heard any +attempt to explain why the prince neglected this +chance of saving the king. It made my heart ache +to think of the captive sovereign watching all those +weeks for rescue, (for he sent to entreat it might be +attempted) and listening for the sound of friendly +guns, and the appearance of a band of loyal seamen, +all in vain. +</p> + +<p> +For all this time his doom was coiling closer and +closer round him. +</p> + +<p> +Pembroke and Chepstow were retaken. General +Cromwell wrote from Nottingham for shoes for his +"poor tried soldiers," wearied with a hundred and +fifty miles hasty marching across the wild country +of Wales towards the north. In August came the +tidings of the total defeat of the Scottish army at +Preston. +</p> + +<p> +I had just received the news of this in a letter from +my husband, and was sitting alone in my chamber, +tossed hither and thither in mind, as was my wont +during those anxious months, scarce knowing at +any news whether to rejoice or to mourn, in that +every victory of the army seemed but to bring a +step nearer the fulfillment of that dreadful purpose +of calling the king to account. By way of quieting +these uneasy thoughts, I rose to go to good +Mr. Henry's, when a little stir at the door aroused me, +and in another minute I was clasped to Aunt +Gretel's heart, sobbing out my gladness at seeing her. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, sweetheart, hush," she said, "that is the +worst of surprises. I meant to save thee suspense, +and to make as little disturbance as possible." +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted thee so sorely," said I. "It is not +thy coming that has so moved me; it was the +trying to do without thee." +</p> + +<p> +In half an hour she had unpacked her small bundle, +and established herself in the guest-chamber, +with everything belonging to her as quietly in its +place, as if it had never known another. Her +presence brought an unspeakable quiet with it. The +solitary house became home again. And in another +fortnight we were rejoicing together over my first-born, +our little Magdalene; the fountain of delight +opened for us in the desert of those dreary times. +</p> + +<p> +And in September my husband returned to me. +</p> + +<p> +Preston was the last battle of that campaign +worthy the name. The Scottish royalist army was +broken up, and General Cromwell was welcomed in +Edinburgh, and by the Covenanters everywhere, as +the deliverer of the land. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout September the king was holding +conferences at Newport with the Commissioners of the +Parliament. All bore witness to the ability and +readiness with which he spoke. His hair had turned +gray, his face was furrowed with deep lines of +care, but all the old majesty was in his port, and +even those who had known him before were +surprised at his learning and wit. +</p> + +<p> +But, alas, it was mere speech. The king wrote +to his friends excusing himself for making +concessions, by the assurance that he merely did it in +order to facilitate his escape. +</p> + +<p> +And more than that, all the actors in that drama, +sincere or not, were rapidly fading into mere +performers in a pageant. The decisive conferences +were held, the true work was done. The doom was +fixed elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +By the middle of November the army, victorious +from Wales and Scotland, and mindful of the +prayer-meeting at Windsor, was again at St. Albans, +calling for justice on the Chief Delinquent. +</p> + +<p> +On the 29th of November the king was removed +from Carisbrook to Hurst Castle, a lonely, bare +and melancholy fort opposite to the Isle of Wight, +whose walls were washed by the sea. +</p> + +<p> +On December the 2d the quiet of Mr. Henry's +house and of the royal orchard was broken, by the +arrival of a portion of the Parliament army at +Whitehall, trampling down with heavy armed tread +the grass which had grown in the deserted palace-court. +</p> + +<p> +On Sunday there was much preaching in many +quarters, of a kind little likely to calm the storm. +In the churches the Presbyterian preachers declaimed +fervently against the atrocity and iniquity of +seizing the person of the king. In the parks +Independent soldiers preached on the equality of all +before the law of God. "Tophet is ordained of old," +one of them took for his text. For the king it is +prepared. A notable example, my husband said, +of that random reading of the Sacred Scriptures +which turns them into a lottery of texts to conjure +with, like a witch's charms. +</p> + +<p> +In the Parliament my old hero Mr. Prinne, with +his cropped ears and his branded forehead, stood +up and boldly pleaded for the king, never braver, I +thought, than then. +</p> + +<p> +On the 5th of December came another invasion +of the Parliament House, Colonel Pride and his +soldiers turning all the Presbyterian and Royalist +members back from the doors. "Pride's Purge." +</p> + +<p> +It was a sorely perplexed time. Had the very +act of despotism which first roused the nation to +the point of civil war now to be repeated in the +name of liberty for the ruin of the king? +</p> + +<p> +"What are we fighting for? I used to ask myself. +The battle-cries, as well as the front of the armies, +had so strangely changed. For the king and +Parliament? The king was in prison. The Parliament +was reduced to fifty members. For the nation? +The nation was half in insurrection. For liberty? +No party seemed to allow it to any other. +</p> + +<p> +Roger and the Ironsides alone seemed clear as to +the answer. "We are fighting—not under six +hundred members of Parliament, nor under fifty, but +under one leader given us by God; under General +Cromwell," he said. "And he is fighting for the +country, to save it and make it free and righteous, +and glorious in spite of itself. When he has done +it, it will be acknowledged. Till then he must be +content to be misjudged, and we must content he +should be, as the heroes have been too often, and +the saints nearly always, until their work, perhaps +until their life, is done." +</p> + +<p> +I lay awake much during those nights of December. +My little Magdalene was often restless, and I +used to listen to the flow of the river through the +silence of the sleeping city and think how the sea +was washing the walls of the king's desolate prison, +praying for him, and for General Cromwell, and all, +and thanking God that my lot was the lowly one +of submitting instead of that of deciding, in these +terrible times. +</p> + +<p> +But a sorer sorrow was advancing slowly on us +all. On the 10th of December came an imploring +letter from Lettice, saying that her mother had +failed sadly during the last week, that she and her +mother longed for Dr. Antony, and her mother even +more for me and the babe. +</p> + +<p> +The next day we were on the road to Netherby, +Aunt Gretel, my husband, the babe, and I. +</p> + +<p> +It was late in the evening of the second day when +we reached the dear old house. +</p> + +<p> +We were met with a hush, which fell on me like +a chill. The Lady Lucy had fallen into one of those +quiet sleeps which of late had become so rare with +her, and the whole household was quieted so as not +to disturb her. +</p> + +<p> +The subdued tone into which everything falls, in +a house in which there has been long sickness, and +where everything has been ordered with reference +to one sufferer, fell heavily on us, coming in from +the fresh autumn air with voices attuned to the +bracing winds, and hearts eager with expectations +of welcome. It was like being ushered into a church +hushed for some mournful ceremony; and we stepped +noiselessly, and spoke under our breath, until +an unsubdued wail from the only creature of the +company unable to understand the change, the baby +waking suddenly from sleep, broke the dreary spell +of stillness. +</p> + +<p> +The Lady Lucy heard the little one's cry, and +sent to crave a glimpse of us all that night. +</p> + +<p> +In her chamber alone, throughout the house that +anxious hush was absent. She spoke in her natural +voice, though now lower than even its usual sweet +low tones, from weakness. She had a bright +welcoming word for each, and while gratefully heeding +my husband's counsel, declared that baby would be +her head physician. The very touch of the soft +little fingers and the sound of her little cooings and +crowings had healing in them, she said. +</p> + +<p> +She looked less changed than I had expected. +But my husband shook his head and would give +little promise. Lettice seemed to me more altered +than her mother. Her eyes had a steady, deep, +watchful look in them, very unlike her wonted +changeful brilliancy. She said nothing beyond a +few words of welcome to me that night. But the +next morning the first moment we were alone +together she took my hands, and pressing them to her +heart, she said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me Olive; I have been afraid to ask any +one else, but I must know. What do they mean by +Petitions from the army for justice on the King?" +</p> + +<p> +I was so startled by her sudden appeal, I could +not meet her eyes nor think what to say. I could +only murmur something about there having been so +many Petitions, Remonstrances, and Declarations, +which had ended in talking. +</p> + +<p> +"True," said she, "but the army are like no other +party in the state. They do not end with talking. +They know what they want, and mean what they +say, and do what they mean. What do they +mean by Petitions against the Chief Delinquent?" +</p> + +<p> +"Many do think, Lettice," I said, "that the king himself, +and not only his counsellors, began all the evil." +</p> + +<p> +"I know," she replied. "But they have had justice +enough on the king, I should think, to satisfy +any one. They have deprived him of all power, +separated him from the queen and the royal children, +and all who love him, and shut him up behind +iron bars. And now, they petition for justice on +him. What would they do to him worse, Olive? +What can he suffer more? What has the king left +but life?" +</p> + +<p> +I could not answer her. +</p> + +<p> +"To touch <i>that</i>, Olive," she continued, looking +steadily into my eyes, and compelling me by the +very intensity of her gaze to meet them, "to touch +that would be crime, the worst of crimes. It would +be regicide, parricide." +</p> + +<p> +"But how could it ever be, Olive?" She went +on. "They have assassinated kings I know before +now. But a king brought to justice (as they call it) +like a common criminal! Since the world was, such +a thing was never known. It can never be, Olive, +she added in a trembling voice, "I have heard the +king dreads assassination. Do you? Could his +enemies descend to that depth?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never, Lettice," I replied, "never." And in +saying thus I could meet her eyes frankly and +fearlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Her face lighted up. +</p> + +<p> +"Never! no, I believe not. Then there can surely +be little fear. There is no tribunal which can judge +the king. No bar for him to stand arraigned +before but the judgment-seat of God. A king was +never condemned and put to death deliberately and +solemnly in the face of his own people, and of all +the nations. Never since the world was. And it +never could be. From assassination you are sure +he is safe. Be honest with me, Olive. There are +base men in all parties. You are <i>sure</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"As sure as of my life," I said, "as sure as of my +father's word, or Roger's." +</p> + +<p> +"Then there can be no reason to fear," she said. +"I will cast away this awful dread. Oh, Olive," she +exclaimed, bursting into tears, "you have brought +me new life. Do you know that sometimes during +these last few days, since I heard of those Petitions, +I have almost prayed that if such a fearful crime +and curse could be hanging over England, my +Mother might be taken to God first, and learn about +it first there, where we shall understand it all. But +you have comforted me, Olive. I need make no +such prayers. What I have so dreaded can never be." +</p> + +<p> +I felt almost guilty of falsehood in letting her +thus take comfort. Yet if my husband's fears about +Lady Lucy were well-founded, there was little need +for such a prayer. And to Time I might surely +leave it to unveil the horrors that after all might +be averted. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But no intervention from above or from below +came to avert the steady unfolding of the great +tragedy on which the nation's eyes were fixed. +</p> + +<p> +The king went on to his doom, as the doomed in +some terrible old tragedy of destiny, tremblingly +watchful for the storm to break from the side whence +there was no danger, but all the time advancing +with blind fearlessness to confront the lightnings +which were to smite him. +</p> + +<p> +In the solitary sea-washed walls of Hurst Castle +he listened for the stealthy tread of the assassin. +And when at midnight, on the 17th of December, +the creak of the drawbridge was heard between the +dash of the waves, and then the tramp of armed +horsemen echoing beneath the castle-gate, the king +rose and spent an hour alone in prayer. Colonel +Harrison, who commanded these men, had been +named to him as one likely to be employed to +assassinate him. "I trust in God who is my helper," +said the king to his faithful servant, Herbert; "but +I would not be surprised. This is a fit place for +such a purpose," and he was moved to tears; no +unmanly tears, and no groundless fears. He was +not the first of his unhappy race who had been the +victim of treacherous midnight murders. But when +on the morrow he recognized in Colonel Harrison's +frank countenance and honest converse one incapable +of such baseness, his spirits rose, and he rode +away almost gayly with his escort of gallant and +well-mounted men, courteous enough in their +demeanour to him. In the daylight, and in the royal +halls of Windsor, where they lodged him, he felt +strong again in the sacredness of the king's person, and +alas he fancied himself strong in those false schemes +of policy which, and which only, had divested his +royal person of its sacredness in the hearts of his +people. "He had yet three games to play," he said, +"the least of which gave him hope of regaining all." +</p> + +<p> +On the 5th of January he gave orders for sowing +melon-seed at Wimbledon; and dwelt on Lord +Ormond's work for him in Ireland. He made a jest +of the threat of bringing him to a public trial. +Kings had been killed in battle, treacherously put +to agonizing deaths in dungeons whose walls tell no +tales, and let no cries of anguish through, secretly +stabbed at midnight. But the rebels it seemed +plain were not foes of that stamp. Even the example +three of his Cavaliers had lately given them in +treacherously assassinating Rainsborough, one of +Cromwell's bravest officers at Doncaster, kindled in +the most fanatical of the Roundheads no emulation, +but simply a burning indignation and contempt. +Save the sword of battle, or the dagger of the +murderer, no weapon was known wherewith to kill a +king. The Roundheads did not number assassination +among their "instruments of justice." The +war was over. What then was there for His +Majesty to fear? +</p> + +<p> +Strafford, indeed, had been almost as confident up +to the last. And neither gray hairs or consecration +had saved the Archbishop's head from the scaffold. +But between an anointed king and the loftiest of +his subjects, according to the royal and the royalist +creed, the distinction was not of degree but of nature. +</p> + +<p> +All the courts of Europe surely would rise and +interfere ere a king should be tried before a tribunal +of his lieges, of creatures who held honour and life +by his breath. +</p> + +<p> +Nor only earthly courts. Would the One Tribunal +before which a sovereign alone could be +summoned, suffer such an infringement of its +rights? +</p> + +<p> +So the king went on jesting at the thought of his +subjects bringing him to trial, playing his "three +games," and peacefully sowing seeds for more +harvests than one. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And meanwhile Cromwell came back slowly +advancing from Scotland to London; Petitions for +Justice on the Chief Delinquent lay on the table of +the House of Commons not unheeded; on the 6th +of January, Colonel Pride, with his soldiers, +guarded the door of the House of Commons, and sent +thence every member who disposed still to prolong +treaties with the king; in the afternoon of that same +6th of January, General Cromwell was thanked +by the "purged" house, or Rump, of fifty members, +for his services, and the High Court of Justice +was instituted for the trial of "Charles Stuart, for +traitorously and tyrannically seeking to overthrow +the rights and liberties of the people." And on the +19th of January, not three weeks after he had been +tranquilly planning at Westminster for his summer +garden crops, and sowing seed for other harvests in +Ireland, the king was sitting in Westminster Hall +arraigned before this Court as a "tyrant, traitor, +and murderer." +</p> + +<p> +And still only were the heavens unmoved, but +not a word of remonstrance or of generous pleading +had come from one crowned head in Europe. +</p> + +<p> +But meantime over our little world at Netherby +that awful Presence was hovering to which all the +outward terrors that may, or may not surround it, +the midnight dagger, the headsman's axe, the crowds +of eager gazers around the scaffold, are but as the +trappings of the warrior to his sword, or the glitter +of the axe to its edge. Death was silently wearing +away the little remaining strength of Lady +Lucy Davenant. +</p> + +<p> +There was one amongst us nearer the beginning +of the new life than any of us knew, so near that +the roar of the political tempest around us was +hushed ere it reached her chamber, and she lay +on the threshold of the other world almost as +unconscious of the storms of this as our little infant +Magdalene, whose cradle she used to delight to +have beside her. +</p> + +<p> +I can remember, as if it were yesterday, the dim +tender smile with which she used to watch the babe +asleep beside her. +</p> + +<p> +Once she said to me,— +</p> + +<p> +"There seems to me something strangely alike, +Olive, in the darling's place and mine, though to all +outward seeming so different. I lie and look at +her and think of the angels in the Percy Shrine at +the Minster at Beverly, how they bear in their +arms to Jesus a little helpless new-born soul, and +He stretches out His hands to take it to His bosom—a +soul new-born from death, to the deathless life +with Him. +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes it seems like that, Olive, what is +coming to me; so great and perfect the change. +Sometimes so easy and simple; more like laying +aside garments we have worn through the night +bathing in the water of life, and stepping refreshed, +strong, and 'clothed in raiment clean and white'—into +the next chamber, to meet Him who awaits us +there. So little the change, for we have in us the +treasure we shall bear with us. The new eternal +life is in our Lord, and not in any state or time; +and since we have him with us, both here and there, +it seems only like stepping a little further into the +Father's house—from the threshold to the inner +chambers—and hearing Him nearer and seeing Him +more clearly. Tell Lettice I had these comforting +thoughts, Olive," she would say; "I cannot speak +to her, she is too much moved; and she wants +me to say I long to stay on earth, and I cannot, +Olive. I cannot feel at home any more here since +Harry is gone. And I am so weak and sinful, I +may do harm, as well as good by staying longer, +even to Lettice, poor tender child. The world—at +least the world here in England—is very dark to +me. And sometimes I think it will all soon end, +not this war only, but all wars, and the kingdom +come for which the Church prayed so long, and the +glorious Epiphany." +</p> + +<p> +One thing I remarked with Lady Lucy, as with +others whom since I have watched passing from +this world of shadows into the world of real things. +The lesser beliefs which separate Christians seemed +forgotten, fallen far back into the distance and the +shade, in the light of the great truths which are our +life—which are Christianity. The spontaneous +utterances of such Christian deathbeds as I have watched, +have had little of party-beliefs, and of party-politics +nothing. As Lady Lucy herself once said,— +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, if all could only see Him as He is! We are +divided because we are fragments: the whole race +is fallen and broken into fragments. But in Him, +in Christ, all the broken fragments are one again +and live. Truth is no fair ideal vision: it is Christ." +</p> + +<p> +And again she would speak of her death with +infinite comfort. "He died really—really as I must," +she said; "the flesh failed, the heart failed, but he +overcame. He offered Himself up without spot to +God, and me, sin-stained as I am, in Him—the Son, +the Redeemer, the Lord. And the Father was in +Him, reconciling the world to Himself. And we +are in Him, reconciled, for ever and ever." +</p> + +<p> +Now and then she would ask if we had heard +news of the king. And we gave her such general +and vague accounts as we dared, deeming it unmeet +to distress her with perplexities which would so soon +be unperplexed to her. And this was easy, her +attention being seldom now fixed long on any subject. +</p> + +<p> +On the 6th of January Roger came on his way to +London from the North—on the old Christmas day, +which Lady Lucy had continued to keep. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning Lettice had read her the gospel +for the day. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon when she saw Roger, connecting +him with the army and the king, she asked at once +for his Majesty. +</p> + +<p> +"The king is at Windsor," Roger said. +</p> + +<p> +"At home!" she said with a smile; "at home +again for the Christmas. That is well." +</p> + +<p> +Roger made no reply, and, to the relief of all, +her mind passed contentedly from the subject. She +took Lettice's hand and Roger's in hers, and pressed +them to her lips, and murmured, "My God, I thank +Thee." And then, as a faintness came over her, +we all withdrew but Lettice. +</p> + +<p> +Roger and I were alone in the ante-room. He +was waiting to bid Lettice farewell. When she +came out of her mother's chamber she sat down on +the window seat, her eyes cast down, her trembling +mute lips almost as white as her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Roger went towards her, and stood before her; +but she made no movement and did not even lift +her eyelids, heavy and swollen as they were with +much weeping. +</p> + +<p> +"Lettice," he said, "let me say one word before +I go. Let me say one word to comfort you in this +sorrow, for is not your sorrow mine?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of what avail?" she said. "You are taking +the king to London to die. The greatest crime +and curse is about to fall on the nation, and you +will go and share and sanction it, and make it your +own. No word of mine will move you—how can +word of yours comfort me? You will, if you are +commanded by him you have chosen for your priest +and king, keep guard by the scaffold while the king +is murdered. Did not you tell me so two hours +since? Did not I entreat and implore and tell you +you were digging a gulf, not only, between me and +you, but between you and heaven?" +</p> + +<p> +He stood for a few moments silent and motionless, +and then he said: "And did I not tell you, +that, as a soldier I could do no otherwise unless I +deserted my chief, nor as a patriot unless I betrayed +my country? It is the king who has betrayed us, +Lettice; who has refused to let us save him and +trust him. The hand that could have stopped all +the oppression and injustice at the source—from the +beginning—and <i>did not</i>, must be the guiltiest hand +of all. It is <i>falsehood</i> that is leading the king to +this end, not the country, nor the Parliament, nor +General Cromwell." +</p> + +<p> +At last she looked up,—"Do not try to persuade +me, Roger," she said, "God knows I am too willing +to be persuaded. I cannot reason about it any more +than about loving my Mother or obeying my Father. +I dare not listen to you. I am untrue," she added, +bursting at length into passionate tears, "I have +been a traitor, to let my Mother be deceived—to let +her thank God for what can never be!" +</p> + +<p> +"Lettice," he said in a tone of anguish, "if you +reproach yourself, if you call yourself a traitor, what +am I?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are as true as the Gospel, Roger," she said, +her sobs subsiding into quiet weeping; "as true as +heaven itself. You would never have done what I +did. You would break your own heart and every +one's rather than utter or act one falsehood, or +neglect one thing you believe to be duty. That is what +makes it so terrible." +</p> + +<p> +His voice trembled as he replied,—"You trust me, +and yet you think me capable of a terrible crime." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that to lay sacrilegious hands on the +king is an unspeakable crime," said she; "but to +trust you is no choice of mine. I cannot tear the +trust of my heart from you if I would, Roger, and +God knows I would not if I could." +</p> + +<p> +A light of almost triumphant joy passed over his +face, as, standing erect before her, with folded arms, +he looked on her down-cast face,— +</p> + +<p> +"Then the time must come when a delusion that +cannot separate us in heart can no longer separate +us in life," he said, in tones scarcely audible. +"Your Mother said the truth, Lettice, when she +joined our hands. Such words from her lips at +such a time are surely prophecy." +</p> + +<p> +Lettice shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"My Mother saw beyond this world," she said, +mournfully; "where there are no delusions, and no +divisions, and no partings." +</p> + +<p> +He bent before her for an instant, and pressed her +hand to his lips. And so they parted. +</p> + +<p> +That night Lettice and I watched together by +Lady Lucy's bedside. And all things that could +distract and divide seemed for the time to be +dissolved in the peace of her presence. +</p> + +<p> +She revived once or twice and spoke, although it +seemed more in rapt soliloquy than to any mortal +ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Everything grows clear to me," she said once; +"everything I cared most to see. The divisions +and perplexities which bewilder us here are only +the colours the light puts on when it steps on earth. +On earth it is scarlet and purple and bordered work; +in heaven it is fine linen, clean and white, clean and +white." +</p> + +<p> +Often she murmured in clear rapid tones, very +awful in the silence of the sick-chamber at night, +the words,— +</p> + +<p> +"The king, the king!" +</p> + +<p> +Lettice and I feared to go to her to ask what she +meant, dreading some question we dared not +answer. We thought belike her mind was wandering, +as she did not seem to be appealing to us or +looking for an answer. +</p> + +<p> +But at length the words came more distinctly, +though broken and low, and then we knew what +they meant,— +</p> + +<p> +"The King! King of kings! Faithful and true. +Mine eyes shall see the King in His beauty. He +shall deliver the needy when he crieth, King of the +poor, King of the nations, King of kings, Faithful +and true. I am passing beyond the shadows. I +begin to see the lights which cast them. Beyond +the storms—I see the angels of the winds. Beyond +the thunders—they are music, from above. Beyond +the clouds—they are the golden streets, from +above. Mine eyes shall see the King—as He is; +as thou art; no change in Thee, but a change in +me. In Thy beauty as Thou art." +</p> + +<p> +All the following day the things of earth were +growing dim to her, but to the last her courtesy +seemed to survive her strength. No little service +was unacknowledged; even when the voice was +inaudible, the parched lips moved in thanks or in +prayer. +</p> + +<p> +And on the early morning of the 21st of January +she passed away from us, her hand in Lettice's, +her eyes deep with the awful joy of some sight +we could not see. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of that very day came the tidings +that the king had been brought, on the 19th of +January, as a criminal, before the High Court of Justice +in Westminster Hall, to be tried for his life as +the "principal author of the calamities of the nation." +</p> + +<p> +When Lettice heard it, the first burst of tears +came breaking the stupor of her sorrow, as she +sobbed on my shoulder, "Thank God she is safe, +beyond the storms of this terrible distracted world. +She is gone where she will never more be perplexed +what to believe or what to do." +</p> + +<p> +"She is gone," said my Father, tenderly taking +one of her hands in his, "where loyalty and love +of country, and liberty and law are never at +variance; where the noblest feelings and the noblest +hearts are never ranged against each other. And +we hope to follow her thither." +</p> + +<p> +"But oh," sobbed Lettice, "this terrible space +between!" +</p> + +<p> +"Look up and press forward, my child," he +replied, "and the way will become clear. Step by +step, day by day; the space between is the way +thither." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75740 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/75740-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/75740-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9728e91 --- /dev/null +++ b/75740-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
