The Chaplain of the Fleet, Page 2

  CHAPTER I.

  HOW KITTY LOST HER FATHER AND HER FRIENDS.

  My life has been (above any merits of my own) so blessed by Providence,that methinks its history should be begun with the ringing of bells,the singing of psalms, the sound of cornet, flute, harp, sackbut,psaltery, and all kinds of music. For surely the contemplation of ahappy course should, even towards its close, be accompanied by a heartfull of cheerful piety and gratitude. And though, as often happens tous in the Lord's wisdom, ill fortune, disappointment, troubles of theflesh, and pain of disease may perhaps afflict me in these latter yearsof fleeting life, they ought not to lessen the glad song of praisefor blessings formerly vouchsafed (and still dwelling in my memory)of love, of joy, and of happiness. Truly, the earth is a delightfulplace; a fair garden, which yields pleasant fruit; and, if it may beso said with becoming reverence, there are yet, outside the gates ofEden, places here and there which for beauty and delight, to those whothither win their way, are comparable with Paradise itself. In such aplace it has been my happy lot to dwell.

  Yet, just as the newborn babe begins his earthly course with awail--ah, joyful cry for ear of mother!--so must this book begin withtears and weeping.

  The weeping is that of an orphan over her dead father; the tears arethose which fall upon a coffin beside an open grave: they are the tearsof men and women come to pay this reverence at the burial of a man whowas their best friend and their most faithful servant.

  All the morning the funeral knell has been tolling; the people listen,now, to the solemn words of a service which seem spoken by the dead manhimself to those who mourn. They admonish and warn, but they bid thembe of good cheer, lift up hearts, and trust in the Lord.

  When we are in great grief and sorrow, outward things seem to affectus more than in ordinary times, when the heart is in repose, and themind, perhaps, slower of apprehension. The day, for instance, waslate in May; the blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch were singing in thewood beside the church; a lark was carolling in the sky; a cuckoo wascalling from the coppice; the hedges were green, and the trees werebright with their first fresh foliage; the white may-blossom, theyellow laburnum, and the laylock were at their best, and the wild roseswere just beginning.

  To the country girl who had never yet left her native village, this joyof the spring was so natural that it did not jar upon the grief of hersoul. When the funeral was over, and the grave filled in and the peopleall dispersed, she stood for a few moments alone, and then walked awayacross the long grass of the churchyard, stepping lightly over thegraves of the villagers, opened the little wicket gate which led to thevicarage garden, passed in, and sought a sheltered place where, beneaththe shade of bushes, she sat upon a bench and folded her hands, lookedbefore her, and fell a-thinking.

  She was between sixteen and seventeen, but tall of her age, and lookedolder; she wore a new black frock; she had thrown her straw hat withblack ribbons upon the bench beside her. As for her face, I supposeit was pretty. Alas! I am a hypocrite, because I _know_ that it waspretty. As yet, she did not know it, and had never thought about herface. Her eyes were brown (she has ever been thankful to have had browneyes); her features were regular, and her face rather long; her hairwas abundant and soft: it was like the hair of most English maidens, ofa dark brown, or chestnut (it is now white); her arms were shapely, andher fingers thin and delicate (they were the fingers of a Pleydell);as for her complexion, it was as good as can be expected in a girlwhose blood is pure, who has, as yet, known no late hours, who has beentaught to use plenty of cold water and no washes or messes, who hasrun about without thinking of freckles, and has lived in the open airon homely food. In other words, as fine a show of red and white was inthe cheeks of that child as ever Sir Joshua Reynolds tried to copy uponcanvas.

  She was thinking many things. First, of her father and his death; ofthe funeral, and the grief shown by people whom she had thought to behard of heart, insensible to his admonitions, and untouched by hisprayers. Yet they stood about the grave and wept, rude women and roughmen. Would they ever again find a minister so benevolent, so pious, andso active in all good work? She thought of the house, and how dark andlonely it was, deserted by its former owner. She thought of what sheshould do, in the time before her, and how she would be received in hernew home. One thing comforted her: she looked older than she was, andwas tall and strong. She could be helpful.

  Then she drew out of her pocket a letter written for her only threedays before her father died. She knew it quite by heart, but yet sheread it again slowly, as if there might still be something in it whichhad escaped her.

  "MY BELOVED DAUGHTER" (thus it ran),--"Knowing that I am about to die and to appear before my Father and merciful Judge, it is right that I should bestir myself to make thee comprehend the situation in which thou wilt be placed. Of worldly wealth I have, indeed, but little to give thee. Face thy lot with hope, resignation, and a cheerful heart. The righteous man, said one who knew, hath never been found to beg his bread. Indeed, the whole course of this world is so ordered (by Divine wisdom), that he who chooseth the narrow path chooseth also the safest. Therefore, be of good cheer.

  "_Imprimis._ When I am buried, search the bedstead, and, in the head thereof, will be found a bag containing the sum of one hundred guineas in gold pieces. I have saved this money during my twenty years of incumbency. I trust that it will not be laid to my charge that I did not give this also to the poor; but I thought of my daughter first. Secondly, Farmer Goodpenny is indebted to me in the sum of twenty-two pounds, four shillings, and eightpence, for which I have his note. I charge thee that he be not asked to pay interest, and since it may be that he hath not the money, let it wait his good time. He is an honest man, who fears God. Thirdly, there is money, some twelve pounds or more, lying in my desk for present use. Fourthly, there are several small sums due to me, money put out and lent (but not at usury), such as five shillings from the widow Coxon, and other amounts the which I will have thee forgive and remit entirely; for these my debtors are poor people. The horse is old, but he will fetch five pounds, and the cow will sell for two. As for the books, they may be sent to Maidstone, where they may be sold. But I doubt they will not bring more than ten guineas, or thereabouts, seeing that the call for works of divinity is small, even among my brethren of the cloth. And when you go to London, forget not to ask of Mr. Longman, publisher, of St. Paul's Churchyard, an account of my 'Sermons,' published by him last year; my essay on 'Philo-Judaeus,' issued four years ago; and my 'Reflections on the Christian State,' which he hath by him in manuscript. He will perhaps be able to return a larger sum of money than I was led by him at first to expect.

  "My will and plain injunctions are as follows:

  "When everything has been paid that is owing, and there are none who can hereafter say that he had a claim upon me which was unsatisfied, get together thy wearing apparel and effects, and under some proper protection, as soon as such can be found, go to London, and there seek out thy uncle and mother's brother, the Reverend Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity, of whom I have spoken to thee of old. I take shame to myself that I have not sent him, for many years, letters of brotherly friendship. Nor do I rightly remember where he is to be found. But I know that he lives, because once a year there comes to me a keg or anker of rum, which I know must be from him, and which I have drunk with my parishioners in a spirit of gratitude. Perhaps it would have been more consistent in a brother clergyman to have sent one of the latest books of our scholars. But he means well, and the rum is, I confess, of the best, and a generous drink, in moderation. He was once Curate and Lecturer of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields; but I would have thee go first to the Coffee-house in St. Paul's Churchyard, where they know all the London clergy, and ask for his present lodging. This found, go to him, tell him that I am dead, give him thy money, entrust thyself to him, and be guided b
y him as thou hast been by me.

  "And now, my daughter, if a father's prayers avail thee, be assured that I die like Jacob the patriarch, blessing thee and commanding thee. For my blessing, I pray that the Lord may have thee in His keeping, and give thee what is good for the eternal life. For my commandment--Be good: for herein is summed up the whole of the Commandments.

  "And remember, my child, the Christian who lives in fear of death is foolish: even as he is foolish who will not lay hold of the promise, and so lives in terror of the Judgment. For now I know--yea, I _know_--that the Lord loveth best that man who all the days of his life walks in faith and dies in hope.--Your loving father,

  "LAWRENCE PLEYDELL."

  Had ever a girl so sweet a message from the dead, to keep and ponderover, to comfort and console her? She knew every word of it already,but the tears came afresh to her eyes in thinking of the dear handwhich wrote those words--quiet now, its labours done, in the coldgrave. Her father's last Will and Testament gave her more thanriches--it gave her strength and consolation. The example of his life,which was so Christian and so good, might be forgotten, because thegirl was too young to understand it, and too ignorant to compare; butthis letter of true faith and religion would never be forgotten.

  The Reverend Lawrence Pleydell, Master of Arts and sometime Fellow ofthe ancient and learned College or House of Christ, Cambridge, was(which is a thing too rare in these days) a country clergyman who wasalso a scholar, a divine, a man of pious thought, and a gentlemanby descent, though only of a younger branch. It is too often foundthat if a country clergyman be a gentleman, he continues the habitsof his class, such as fox-hunting, card-playing, and wine-drinking,concerning which, although the Bishops seem not yet of one mind uponthe matter, I, for my humble part, remembering what kind of man was mygood father, venture to think are pursuits unworthy of one who holdsa cure of souls. And when a clergyman is a scholar, he is too oftendevoted entirely to the consideration of his Greek and Latin authors,whereby his power over the hearts of the people is in a measure lost.Or, if he is a divine, he is too often (out of the fulness of his mind)constrained to preach the subtleties and hidden things of theology,which cannot be understood of the common people, so that it is as ifhe were speaking in an unknown tongue. And sometimes the parson ofthe parish is but a rude and coarse person, of vulgar birth, who willsmoke tobacco with the farmers--yea, even with the labourers--drinkwith them, and not be ashamed to be seen in beer-houses, tap-rooms, oreven at such unseemly diversions as bull-baiting, badger-drawing, andcock-fighting. It were to be wished that the Church were purged of allsuch.

  The parish contained, besides farmers, but one family of gentlefolk,that of Sir Robert Levett, Knight, who with his wife and two childrenlived at the Hall, and had an estate worth two thousand a year atleast. When the vicar's wife died (she was somewhat his inferior inpoint of family, but had a brother in the Church), and his child wasleft without a mother, nothing would do for Lady Levett than thatthe little maid should be taken into the Hall and brought up, havinggovernesses and teaching, with her own daughter, Nancy, who was ofabout the same age, but a little younger. So the two girls wereplayfellows and scholars together, being taught those things whichit befits a lady to learn, although one of them would be a poor ladyindeed. There was one son, Will, who was at first at Eton with hiscousin (and Sir Robert's ward), Harry Temple, the young Squire ofWootton Hampstead. It was a fearful joy when they came home for theholidays. For, although they kept the house in activity and bustle,making disorder and noise where there was generally quiet and order,yet after the manner of boys, who rejoice to show and feel theirstrength, they would play rough tricks upon the two girls, upset anddestroy their little sports, and make them understand what feeblethings are young maidens compared with boys.

  Now just as the two girls were different--for one grew up tall anddisposed to be serious, which was Kitty Pleydell, and the other wassmall and saucy, always with a laugh and a kiss, which was NancyLevett--so the boys became different: for one, which was Will Levett,a rosy-cheeked lad, with a low forehead and a square chin, grew todislike learning of all kinds, and was never happy except when he wasin the stables with the horses, or training the dogs, or fox-hunting,or shooting, or fishing, or in some way compassing the death of wildcreatures, sports to which his father was only moderately addicted; butthe other, Harry Temple, was more studiously disposed, always came homewith some fresh mark of his master's approbation, and read every bookhe could find.

  There came a change in their behaviour to the girls as they grewolder. Will ceased to set a dog to bark at them, and to crack a whipto frighten them, or ride unbroken colts in order to make them cryout for fear; and Harry ceased to tease and torment them with littletricks and devices of mischief at which they were half pleased andhalf humiliated. When the boys left school they were sent to PembrokeCollege, Cambridge, a college in which many generations of Levetts hadbeen educated. After two terms, Will came home, looking cheerful thoughsomewhat abashed. He had been rusticated _sine die_, as the phraseruns: which means that he was not to go back again until he had madesuch ample submission and apology, with promises of future amendment aswould satisfy the authorities as to the safety of allowing him back.

  It was not known rightly what he had done; there was a story in whicha retriever, a horse, a punch-bowl, a badger, a bargee, a pump, and awater-trough were curiously mixed up, and his rustication had somehowto do with the introduction of a proctor (whom one understands to be alearned and reverend magistrate) and a bull-dog, into this inconsistentand discordant company.

  Sir Robert looked grave when he received his son, my lady wept, andthe girls were ashamed; but all speedily recovered their good spirits,and the whole stable rejoiced exceedingly to see Will back among them.Even the foxes and their cubs, Sir Robert said, which had of late waxedfat and lazy, manifested a lively pleasure, and hastened to get thinso as to afford the greatest sport possible; the trout practised alltheir tricks in readiness for one who respected a fish of subtlety;the pheasants and young partridges made haste to grow strong on thewing; the snipe and small birds remembered why Nature had taught themto use a devious and uncertain flight; the rabbits left off runningstraight; the otters remembered the uncertainty of life and the gloryof a gallant fight; the ferrets laughed, thinking of the merry daysthey were going to have; the hares, who never take any solid interestin being hunted, ran away to the neighbouring estates; and the badgers,who were going to be drawn in their holes, turned sulky.

  This was what Sir Robert told the girls, who laughed, but believed thatit was all true. As for Cambridge, there was no more thought of that.Will had had enough of lectures, chapels, and dons; henceforth, hesaid, he should please himself.

  "Man," said Sir Robert, "who is ever disappointed, must continuallybe resigned. What if Will hath refused to get learning? He will not,therefore, gamble away the estate, nor disgrace the name of Levett.Holdfast is a good dog. It is the fortune of this house that if, oncein a while, its head prove a fool as regards books, he still sticks tohis own."

  Will promised to stick fast to his own, and though he gave himself uphenceforth altogether to those pursuits which make a man coarse anddeaden his sensibility (whereby he loses the best part of his life), hepromised, in his father's opinion, to prove a capable manager and justlandlord, jealous of his own rights, and careful of those of others.

  Will thus remaining at home, the girls saw him every day, and thoughthey had little talk with him, because it could not be expected thatthey should care to hear how the dogs behaved, and how many rats hadbeen killed that morning, yet he was, in his rough way, thoughtfulof them, and would bring them such trifles as pretty eggs, stuffedkingfishers, dressed moleskins, and so forth, which he got in his walksabroad. In the evening he would make his artificial flies, twist hislines, mend his landing-nets, polish his guns; being always full ofbusiness, and kindly taking no notice while Nancy or Kitty read aloud,
nor seeming to care what they read, whether it was the poetry of Pope,or some dear delightful romance; or the "Spectator," or the plays ofShakespeare. All was one to him.

  He seemed in those days a good-natured young man who went his ownway and troubled himself not one whit about other people. Women wereinferior creatures, of course: they could not shoot, hunt, fish, rideto hounds; they had no strength; they did not like to see thingskilled; they did not love sport; they did not drink wine; they did nottake beer for breakfast; they did not smoke tobacco; they loved tea,chocolate, coffee, and such vanities; they loved to dress fine andstand up making bows to men, which they called dancing; they loved toread a lot of nonsense in rhymes, or to cry over the sorrows of peoplewho never lived. Women, however, had their uses: they kept things inorder, looked after the dinner, and took care of the babies.

  Will did not say all these things at once; but they were collectedtogether and written down by the girls, who kept a book between them,where they entered all the things they heard which struck theirfancy. Nancy even went so far as to try to make up a story about theproctor and the pump, but never dared show it, except to her father,who pinched her ear and laughed. They called the page about the waysof women "Will's Wisdom," and continually added to it without hisknowledge; because Will, like all men who love the sports of the fieldand not the wisdom of the printed page, became quickly angry if he werelaughed at. The girls always pictured Esau, for instance, as a graveman, with a square chin, who talked a good deal about his own hunting,took no interest in the occupations of the women, and could never see ajoke.

  Two years or so after Will's rustication, Harry came of age andleft Cambridge without taking a degree. There were bonfires, andoxen roasted whole, and barrels of beer upon the green when he tookpossession of his own estate and went to live in his own house, whichwas three miles and a half from the Hall.

  He came from Cambridge having no small reputation for learning andwit, being apt at the making of verses in English, Latin, and Italian.He was, moreover, skilled in mathematical science, and especially inastronomy; he had read history, and understood the course of politics.I think that from the beginning he aspired to be considered one ofthose who by birth and attainments are looked upon as the leaders ofthe world; he would be a scholar as well as a gentleman; he would bea poet, perhaps to be ranked with Pope or Dryden; he would be a manof fashion; and he would sit in ladies' _salons_, while other men satover bottles of port, and talked gallantry. As for his appearance, hewas tall and slight in figure; his face was long and rather thin; hiseyes were grave; his manner was reserved; to the girls he was alwayscourteous, asking their opinion, setting them right when they werewrong, lending them books, and directing them what to read. To Kittyhe was a man to be respected, but never, she may truly say, did sheallow her thoughts to dwell on the possibility of love: perhaps becauselove is between opposites, so that the grave may love the gay; perhapsbecause she knew very early that Lady Levett earnestly desired onething--that Harry might fall in love with Nancy; and perhaps because toNancy herself, little, merry Nancy, whose heart was full of sunshine,as her eyes were full of sunlight, and her lips never moved but to sayand sing something saucy, or to laugh and smile--to Nancy, I say, thisman was an Apollo, and she wondered that all women, not to speak ofmen (whose stupidity in the matter of reverence for each other is wellknown) did not fall down before him and do him open worship.

  A few months after Harry Temple came of age, the vicar was taken illwith a putrid fever, caught while administering the last rites of theChurch to a dying woman, and was carried off in a fortnight. Thisdisaster not only robbed poor Kitty of the best of fathers, but alsoof the kindest patron and the most loving friend; for it took her awayfrom the Hall, and drove her out, as will be presently seen, to meetdangers as she had never imagined among a people whose wickedness aftermany years, and even to this day, makes her wonder at the longsufferingof the Lord.