LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 823 
 B46C 
 1881 
 v.l
 
 THE 
 
 Chaplain of the Fleet 
 
 Jl fiobd 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE 
 
 AUTHORS OF 
 THE MONKS OF THELEMA,' 
 
 -HE GOLDEN UUTTERFLV,' ' THE MONKS OF THELEMA,' ' READY-J.IONEY 
 
 MORTIBOY,' ' DY CELIA's ARBOUR,' ' THIS SON OF VULCAN,' ' MY LITTLE 
 
 GIRL,' 'the CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT,' ' WITH HARP AND CROWN,' 
 
 'when THE SHIP COMES HOME,' ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 EouKon 
 CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1881
 
 ^^3 
 
 ini 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 PAET I. 
 WITHIN THE RULES. 
 
 OHAPTEK PAGK 
 
 I. HOW KITTY LOST HER FATHER AND HER 
 
 1 
 
 22 
 
 65 
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 II. HOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS - 
 
 III. HOW WE CAME TO LONDON ON THE COACH - 
 
 IV. HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR - 
 V. HOW KITTY WITNESSED A FLEET WEDDING - 100 
 
 VL HOW KITTY BEGAN TO ENJOY THE LIBERTIES 
 
 OF THE FLEET ------ 134 
 
 VII. HOW KITTY LEARNED TO KNOW THE DOCTOR - 158 
 VIIL HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME - - - 168 
 
 IX. HOW THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE MADE TWO 
 
 WOMEN PRISONERS - - - - - 191 
 
 X. HOW THE DOCTOR WAS AT HOME TO HIS 
 
 FRIENDS 201
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 XL HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FRIENDS - 234 
 XII. HOW KITTY EXECUTED THE DOCTOR'S RE- 
 VENGE ------- 246 
 
 XIII. HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE OUT OF SLEEP - 271 
 
 XIV. HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED - - 28G 
 XV. HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED - - 299
 
 THE 
 
 CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 PART I. 
 
 WITHIN THE RULES. 
 
 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 contempla- 
 tion of a happy course should, even towards 
 its close, be accompanied by a heart full of 
 cheerful piety and gratitude. And though, 
 as often happens to us in the Lord's wisdom, 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ill fortune, disappointment, troubles of the 
 flesh, and pain of disease may perhaps afflict 
 me in these latter years of fleeting life, they 
 ought not to lessen the glad song of praise for 
 blessings formerly vouchsafed (and still dwell- 
 ing in my memory) of love, of joy, and of 
 happiness. Truly, the earth is a dehghtful 
 place ; a fair garden, which yields pleasant 
 fruit ; and, if it may be so said with becoming 
 reverence, there are yet, outside the gates of 
 Eden, places here and there which for beauty 
 and delight, to those who thither win their 
 way, are comparable with Paradise itself 
 In such a place it has been my happy lot to 
 dwell. 
 
 Yet, just as the newborn babe begins his 
 earthly course with a wail — ah, joyful cry 
 for ear of mother ! — so must this book begin 
 with tears and weeping. 
 
 The weeping is that of an crj^han over her 
 dead father ; the tears are those wdiich fall 
 upon a coffin beside an open grave : they are 
 the tears of men and women come to pay 
 this reverence at the burial of a man who 
 was their best friend and their most faithful 
 servant.
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 3 
 
 All the morning the funeral knell has been 
 tolling ; the ^Deople listen, now, to the solemn 
 words of a service which seems spoken by the 
 dead man himself to those who mourn. They 
 admonish and warn, but they bid them be of 
 good cheer, lift up hearts, and trust in the 
 Lord. 
 
 When we are in great grief and sorrow, 
 outward things seem to affect us more than 
 in ordinary times, when the heart is in repose 
 and the mind, perhaps, slower of apprehen- 
 sion. The day, for instance, was late in 
 May ; the blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch 
 were sinmns^ in the wood beside the church : 
 a lark was carolling in the sky ; a cuckoo 
 was calling from a coppice ; the hedges were 
 green, and the trees were bright with their 
 first fresh foliage ; the white may-blossom, 
 the yellow laburnum, and the laylock were at 
 their best, and the wild roses were just 
 beginning. 
 
 To the country girl who had never yet left 
 her native village, this joy of the spring was 
 so natural that it did not jar upon the grief 
 of her soul. When the funeral was over, 
 and the grave filled in and the people all dis-
 
 4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 persed, she stood for a few moments alone, 
 and then walked away across the long grass 
 of the churchyard, stepping lightly over the 
 graves of the villagers, opened the little 
 wicket-o'ate which led to the vicaraofe Gfai^den, 
 passed in, and sought a sheltered place 
 where, beneath the shade of bushes, she sat 
 upon a bench and folded her hands, looked 
 before her, and fell a- thinking. 
 
 She was between sixteen and seventeen, 
 but tall of her age, and looked older ; she 
 wore a new black frock; she had throA\n her 
 straw hat with black ribbons upon the bench 
 beside her. As for her face, I suppose it 
 was pretty. Alas ! I am a hypocrite, be- 
 cause I hiow that it was pretty. As yet, 
 she did not know it, and had never thought 
 about her face. Her eyes were brown (she 
 has ever been thankful to have had brown 
 eyes) ; her features were regular, and her 
 face rather long ; her hair was abundant and 
 soft : it was like the hair of most English 
 maidens, of a dark brown, or chestnut (it is 
 now white) ; her arms were shapely, and her 
 fingers thin and delicate (they were the 
 fingers of a Pleydell) ; as for her complexion,
 
 KITTY LOSES HER EATHER. 5 
 
 it was as good as can be expected in a girl 
 whose blood is pure, who has, as yet, known 
 no late hours, who has been tauoiit to use 
 plenty of cold water and no washes or messes, 
 who has run about without tliinkino- of 
 freckles, and has lived in the open air on 
 homely food. In other words, as fine a show 
 of red and white was in the cheeks of that 
 child as ever Sir Joshua Reynolds tried to 
 copy upon canvas. 
 
 She was thinking many things. First, of 
 her f^^,ther and his death ; of the funeral, and 
 the grief shown by people whom she had 
 thought to be hard of heart, insensible to his 
 admonitions^ and untouched by his prayers. 
 Yet they stood about the grave and wept, 
 rude women and rough men. Would they 
 ever again find a minister so benevolent, so 
 pious, and so active in all good works ? She 
 thought of the house, and how dark and 
 lonely it was, deserted by its former owner. 
 She thought of what she should do, in the 
 time before her, and how she would be re- 
 ceived in her new home. One thino^ com- 
 forted her : she looked older than she was, and 
 was tall and strong. She could be helpful.
 
 6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 Then she drew out of her pocket a letter 
 written for her only three days before her 
 father died. She knew it quite by heart, but 
 yet she read it again slowly, as if there might 
 still be something in it which had 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 
 beo: his bread. Indeed, the whole course of 
 this world is so ordered (by Divine wisdom), 
 that he who chooseth the narrow path, 
 cliooseth 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 baof containinsf the sum of one 
 hundred guineas in gold pieces. I have
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 7 
 
 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 in- 
 debted to me in the sum of twenty -two 
 pounds, four shillings, and eightpence, for 
 w^iich 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
 
 8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 my brethren of the cloth. And ^yhen you 
 go to London, forget not to ask of Mr. 
 Longman, pubhsher, of St. Paul's Church- 
 yard, an account of my ^^ Sermons," published 
 by hmi last year ; my essay on '' Philo- 
 Judaeus," issued four years ago ; and my 
 " Peflections on the Christian State," which 
 he hath by him in manuscript. He will per- 
 haps 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 protec- 
 tion, 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
 
 KITTY LOSES HER EA TITER. 9 
 
 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 Avas 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 by 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 com- 
 manding 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 Command- 
 ments,
 
 lo TFIE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 ' And remember, my child, the Christian 
 who Hves in fear of death is fooHsh : even as 
 he is foolish who will not lay hold of the 
 promise, and so lives in terror of the Judg- 
 ment. For now I know — yea, I hiow — 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 ponder over, 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 hand which 
 wrote those words — quiet now, its labours 
 done, in the cold grave. Her father's last 
 Will and Testament gave her more than 
 riches — it gave her strength and consolation. 
 The example of his life, which was so 
 Christian and so good, might be forgotten, 
 because the girl was too young to understand 
 it, and too ignorant to compare ; but this 
 letter of true faith and religion would never 
 be forgotten.
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. n 
 
 The Keverencl Lawrence Pleydell, Master 
 of Arts and sometime Fellow of the ancient 
 and learned College or House of Christ, 
 Cambridge, was (which is a thing too rare in 
 these days) a country clergyman who was also 
 a scholar, a divine, a man of pious thought, 
 and a gentleman by descent, though only of 
 a younger branch. It is too often found that 
 if a country clergyman be a gentleman, he 
 continues the habits of his class, such as 
 fox-hunting, card-playing, and wine-clrink- 
 '\w^^ concerning which, although the Bishops 
 seem not yet of one mind upon the matter, I 
 for my humble part, remembering what kind 
 of man was my good father, venture to think 
 are pursuits unworthy of one who holds a 
 cure of souls. And when a clergyman is a 
 scholar, he is too often devoted 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 thinofs of theoloow, 
 which cannot be understood of the common 
 people, so that it is as if he were speaking in
 
 12 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 an unknown tongue. And sometimes the 
 parson of the parish is but a rude and coarse 
 person, of vulgar birth, who will smoke 
 tobacco with the farmers — yea, even with the 
 labourers — drink w^ith them, and not be 
 ashamed to be seen in beer-houses, tap- 
 rooms, or even at such unseemly diversions 
 as bull-baiting, badger-drawing, and cock- 
 fighting. It were to be wished that the 
 Church were purged of all such. 
 
 The 23arish contained, besides farmers, but 
 one family of gentlefolk, that of Sir Robert 
 Levett, Knight, who Avith his wife and two 
 children lived at the Hall, and had an estate 
 worth two thousand a year at least. When 
 the vicar's Avife died (she was somewhat his 
 inferior in point of family, but had a brother 
 in the Church), and his child was left with- 
 out a mother, nothing would do for Lady 
 Levett than that the little maid should be 
 taken into the Hall and brought up, having 
 governesses and teaching, with her own 
 daughter, Nancy, who was of about the same 
 age, but a little younger. So the two girls 
 were playfellows and scholars together, being 
 taught those things which it befits a lady to
 
 KITTY LOSES TIER FATHER. 13 
 
 learn, although one of them would be a poor 
 lady indeed. There was one son, Will, who 
 was at first at Eton with his cousin (and Sir 
 Bobert's ward), Harry Temple, the young 
 Squire of Wootton Hampstead. It was a 
 fearful joy when they came home for the 
 holidays. 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 their strength, they 
 would play rough tricks upon the two girls, 
 upset and destroy their little sports, and 
 make them understand what feeble thino-s 
 are young maidens compared with bo3^s. 
 
 Now^ just as the two girls were different — 
 for one grew up tall and disposed to be 
 serious, which was Kitty Pleydell, and the 
 other was small and saucy, always with a 
 laugh and a kiss, which was Nancy Levett — 
 so the boys became different : for one, which 
 was Will Levett, a rosy-cheeked lad, with a 
 low forehead and a square chin, grew to dis- 
 like learning of all kinds, and was never 
 happy except when he was in the stables 
 with the horses, or training the dogs, or fox-
 
 14 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE ELEET 
 
 hunting, or shooting, or fishing, or in some 
 way compassing the death of wild creatures, 
 sports to which his father was only mode- 
 rately addicted ; but the other, Harry 
 Temple, was more studiously disposed, 
 always came home with some fresh mark 
 of his master's approbation, and read every 
 book he could find. 
 
 There came a change in their behaviour to 
 the girls as they grew older. Will ceased to 
 set a do(T to bark at them, and to crack a 
 whip to frighten them, or ride unbroken 
 colts in order to make them cry out for fear; 
 and Harry ceased to tease and torment them 
 with little tricks and devices of mischief 
 at which they were half pleased and half 
 humiliated. 
 
 When the boys left school they were sent 
 to Pembroke Colleg^e, Cambridge, a collesfe 
 in which many generations of Levetts had 
 been educated. After two terms, Will came 
 home, looking cheerful though somewhat 
 abashed. He had been rusticated sine die, as 
 the phrase runs: which means that he was not 
 to go back again until he had made such ample 
 submission and apology, with promises of
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 15 
 
 future amendment, as \you1cI 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 which a retriever, a horse, 
 a punch-bowl, a badger, a bargee, a pump, and 
 a water-trough were curiously mixed uj), and 
 his rustication had somehow to do with the 
 introduction of a proctor (whom one under- 
 stands to be a learned and reverend magistrate) 
 and a bull-doof, into this inconsistent and clis- 
 cordant company. 
 
 Sir Robert looked grave when he received 
 his son, my lady wept, and the 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, Avhich had of late waxed fat and lazy, 
 manifested a lively pleasure, and hastened to 
 get thin so as to afford the greatest sj^ort 
 possible ; the trout practised all fcheir tricks 
 in readiness for one who respected a fish of 
 subtlety; the pheasants and young partridges 
 made haste to otow" stronor on the wino- : the 
 snipe and small birds remembered why Nature
 
 i6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 had taught them to use a devious and un- 
 certain fliof-ht : the rabbits left ofi runnino^ 
 straight ; the otters remembered the un- 
 certainty of hfe and the gior}^ of a gallant 
 fight : the ferrets laughed, thinking of the 
 merry days they were going to have ; the 
 hares, who never take any solid interest in 
 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 that it was all 
 true. As for Cambridge^ there was no more 
 thouQfht of that. Will had had enous^h of 
 lectures, chapels, and dons ; henceforth, he 
 said, he should please himself 
 
 ' Man,' said Sir Kobert, ' who is ever dis- 
 appointed, must continually be 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, once in a while, its head 
 prove a fool as regards books, he still sticks 
 to his own.' 
 
 Will promised to stick fast to his own, and
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. ry 
 
 though he gave himself up henceforth alto- 
 gether to those pursuits which make a man 
 coarse and deaden his sensibility (whereby he 
 loses the best part of his life), he promised, 
 in his father's opinion, to prove a capable 
 manager and just landlord, jealous of his own 
 rights, and careful of those of others. 
 
 Will thus remaining at home, the girls saw 
 him every day, and though they had little 
 talk with him, because it could not be ex- 
 pected that they should care to hear how 
 the dogs behaved, and how many rats had 
 been killed that morning, yet he Avas, in his 
 rough way, thoughtful of them, and would 
 bring them such trifles as pretty eggs, stuffed 
 kingfishers, dressed moleskins, and so forth, 
 which he got in his walks abroad. In the 
 evening he would make his artificial flies, 
 twist his lines, mend his landing-nets, polish 
 his guns ; being ahvays full of business, 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 ' Spec- 
 tator,' or the plays of Shakespeare. All was 
 one to him. 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 He seemed in those days a good-natured 
 young man who went his own way and 
 troubled himself not one whit about other 
 people. Women were inferior creatures, of 
 course : they could not shoot, hunt, fish, ride 
 to hounds; they had no strength ; they did 
 not like to see things killed ; they did not 
 love sport ; they did not drink wine ; they 
 did not take beer for breakfast ; they did not 
 smoke tobacco ; they loved tea, chocolate, 
 coffee, and such vanities ; they loved to dress 
 fine and stand up making bows to men, which 
 they called dancing ; they loved to read a lot 
 of nonsense in rhymes, or to cry over the 
 sorrows of people who never lived. Women, 
 however, had their uses : they kept things in 
 order, looked after the dinner, and took care 
 of the babies. 
 
 Will did not say all these things at once ; 
 but they were collected together and written 
 down by the girls, who kept a book between 
 them, where they entered all the things they 
 heard which struck their fancy. Nancy even 
 went so far as to try to make up a story 
 about the proctor and the pump, but never 
 •dared show it, except to her father, who
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 19 
 
 pinched her ear and laughed. They called 
 the page about the ways of women ' Will's 
 Wisdom/ and continually added to it without 
 his knowledge ; because Will, like all men 
 who love the sports of the field and not the 
 wisdom of the printed page, became quickly 
 angry if he were laughed at. The girls always 
 pictured Esau, for instance, as a grave man, 
 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 a joke. 
 
 Two years or so after Will's rustication, 
 Harry came of age and left Cambridge with- 
 out takinof a deg^ree. There were bonfires, 
 and oxen roasted whole, and barrels of beer 
 upon the green when he took possession of 
 his own estate and went to live in his own 
 house, which was three miles and a half from 
 the Hall. 
 
 He came from Cambridge having no small 
 reputation for learning and wit, being apt at 
 the making of verses in English, Latin, and 
 Italian. He was, moreover, skilled in mathe- 
 matical science, and especially in astronomy ; 
 he had read history, and understood the course
 
 20 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 of politics. I think that from the beginning 
 he aspired to be considered one of those who 
 by birth and attainments are looked upon as 
 the leaders of the world ; he would be a 
 scholar as well as a gentleman ; he would be 
 a poet, perhaps to be ranked with Pope or 
 Dryden ; he would be a man of fashion ; and 
 he would sit in ladies salons, while other men 
 sat over bottles of port, and talked gallantry. 
 As for his appearance, he was tall and slight 
 in figure ; his face was long and rather thin ; 
 his eyes were grave; his manner was reserved; 
 to the girls he was always courteous, asking 
 their opinion, setting them right when they 
 were wrong, lending them books, and direct- 
 ing them what to read. To Kitty he was a 
 man to be resjoected, but never, she may truly 
 say, did she allow her thoughts to dwell on 
 the possibility of love : perhaps because love 
 is between opposites, so that the grave may 
 love the gay; perhaps because she knew very 
 early that Lady Levett earnestly desired one 
 thing — that Harry might fall in love with 
 Nancy; and perhaps because to Nancy herself, 
 little, merry Nancy, whose heart was full of 
 sunshine as her eyes were full of sunlight,
 
 KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 
 
 and her lips never moved but to say and sing 
 something saucy, or to laugh and smile — to 
 Nancy, I say, this man was as an Apollo, 
 and she wondered that all women, not to 
 speak of men (whose stupidity in the matter 
 of reverence for each other is well known) 
 chd not fall down before him and do him 
 open worship. 
 
 A few months after Harry Temple came 
 of age, the vicar was taken ill with a putrid 
 fever, caught while administering the last 
 rights of the Church to a dying woman, and 
 was carried off in a fortnight. This disaster 
 not only robbed 2^oor Kitty of the best of 
 fathers, but also of the kindest patron and the 
 most loving friend ; for it took her away from 
 the Hall, and drove her out, as will be pre- 
 sently seen, to meet dangers she had never 
 imagined among a people whose wickedness 
 after many years, and even to this day, 
 makes her wonder at the lono^sufFerinix of the 
 Lord.
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 HOAV KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 The day after the funeral, Sir Kobert Levett 
 himself walked to the Vicarage in the after- 
 noon, and found the girl still in the garden, 
 on her favourite seat. As soon as she looked 
 into his kind face she burst into fresh tears. 
 
 ' Cry on, pretty,' he said, sitting beside her, 
 and with a tear in his own eye. ' Cry on ; to 
 cry is natural. Thou hast lost the best and 
 most Christian father that ever girl had; there- 
 fore cry on till thou art tired. Let the tears 
 fall. Don't mind me. Out handkerchief. So 
 good a scholar shall we never see again. Cry 
 on, if thou hast only just begun, should it bring 
 thee comfort. Nor ever shall we hear so good 
 a preacher. When thou hast finished let me 
 have my say. But do not hurry.
 
 HOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS, 23 
 
 Even at the very saddest, when tears 
 flow as unceasingly as the fountains in 
 the Land of Canaan, the sight of an elderly 
 Sfentleman sittino- on a bench beneath a mul- 
 berry-tree, his hat beside him, his wig in his 
 hands for coolness, his stick between his legs, 
 and his face composed to a decent patience, 
 waiting till one had finished, would be 
 enough to make any girl stop crying. 
 Kitty felt immediately inclined to laugh ; 
 dried her eyes, restrained her sobs, and 
 pulled out her father's will, which she gave 
 to Sir Kobert to read. 
 
 He read it through twice, slowly, and then 
 he hummed and coughed before he spoke : 
 
 ' A good man, Kitty child. See that thou 
 forget not his admonitions. I would he were 
 here still to admonish us all. Sinners that 
 we were, to heed his voice no better. And 
 now he is o^one — he is gone. Yet he was 
 a younger man than I, by ten years and more, 
 and I remain.' Here he put on his wig and 
 rose. ' As for this money, child, let us lose 
 no time in making that safe, lest some thief 
 should rob thee of it. A hundred guineas 1 
 And twenty more with Farmer Goodpenny I
 
 J4 IJII-' CIIAPLAIX OF Tin-: I-Ll-ET, 
 
 And tills inoiic}^ waitiucf at the publislior's !^^ 
 A\>rily tliou art an Iumih^ss, indrod !' ' 
 
 Tn tlie bedroom, at. Ilu^ lu\'ul of llu* i;Tea.t 
 IumI. [\w\ lound IxMicaili (lie mat [r(>ss a. loni;" | 
 narrow box secretly Irl inW) (he pnni'l close 
 lo tlic iL;'i'eat cross-beam. 1 say seer(>(ly, bnt , 
 it was a secret known \o all t1n^ woi'ld. K\\x- 
 ])eiiters always made those s(H*rct hidini;-- 
 ]ilaces in beds, so that had th(M'e been a 
 roblxM- In the honse ht^ wonld JKne bej^-nn 
 by searchiiiL;- in that ])l;u'(\ Sii* Ivohia't kiu>w j 
 where to lind tlu^ spring-, ai\d ([niddv opened I 
 the bm. 
 
 Witliin il lay two canvas bags, tied njt. 
 ( \Mdd hai^s so littK^ hold so i^Teat a snm ^ 
 Sn" Ivobert tossed them nito his pockets as \ 
 
 carelessly as if they WiM'c bail's ol' cherries. , 
 
 ' jNow, little maid,' said he, sitting" on (he 
 bed, * that montw is safe; and ln' siiri^ (hat I ^ 
 
 shall call on h'armer (M)odpenny to-moi'row. j 
 
 Let WW know \\hat is tt> be dt^ne abont thv I 
 lather's wish (hat then shoiildst i^'o U^ \ 
 1 jcMidon \ 
 
 *WluMi, siuno luoiillis \\\W\\ Kiity -vviMit li^ thf [miIi- 
 lislior, tl)al. L;-(>ntloin;ni inl\>rintMl her that llicro was no 
 iiioney to ivcoivo, bocauso ho had born a losor by tho pub- 
 lication of the books.
 
 BOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS. 25 
 
 ' It is his iDJ unction, sir,' said Kitty, gravely. 
 ' I must obey his wilh' 
 
 ^ Yet thy father, 'child, did not know Lon- 
 don. And to send a young girl like thyself, 
 with a bag of guineas about thy neck, to ask 
 in a coffee-house for the address of a clergy- 
 man is, methinks, a wild-goose sort of business. 
 As for Dr. Shovel, 1 have heard the name — 
 
 to be sure, it cannot be the same man ' 
 
 he stopped, as if he would not tell me what 
 it was he had heard. 
 
 ' It is my father's command,' she repeated. 
 
 ' Unless nothing better should be found. 
 Now, London is a dangerous place, full of 
 pitfalls and traps, especially for the young 
 and innocent. We are loth to leave thee, 
 Kittv; we are afraid to let thee o-o. Nothino;- 
 will do for Lady Levett but that thou remain 
 behind with us and Nancy.' 
 
 This was a generous offer, indeed. Kitty's 
 eyes filled with tears again, and while she 
 stood trying to find words of gratitude, and 
 to decline the offer so as not to appear 
 churlish, madam herself came running up 
 the stairs, in her garden-hat and plain pinner, 
 and fell to kissing^- and cryinsf over the sfirl.
 
 26 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE TLEET. 
 
 Then she had to be told of the will and last 
 commands. 
 
 ^ To be sure,' she said, ' thy father's com- 
 mands must be respected and obeyed. Yet 
 I know not whether it would not be well to 
 disobey them. Kitty, my dear, stay with us 
 and be my daughter, all the same as Nancy. 
 I do not ask thee to enter my service, or to 
 receive wages, or to do work for me any other 
 than a daughter may.' 
 
 Kitty shook her head again. She was truly- 
 grateful : there was no one so kind as her 
 ladyship ; but she must go to London as her 
 father bade her. 
 
 ' Why,' cried Sir Kobert, 'the child is right. 
 Let her go. But if she is unhappy with her 
 friends, or if she is in any trouble, let her 
 know where to look for help.' 
 
 ' There may be cousins,' said madam, ' who- 
 will find thee too pretty for their own faces, 
 and would keep thee at home with the towel& 
 and dusters and napkins. I Avould not have 
 our Kitty a Cinderella — though house-service 
 is no disgrace to a gentlewoman. Or there 
 may be manners and customs of the house 
 that a young girl should disapprove. Of
 
 HOV/ KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS. 27 
 
 there maybe harsh looks instead of kind words. 
 If that is the case, Kitty, come back to us, 
 who love thee Avell, and will receive thee with 
 kisses and joy.' 
 
 Then they left her in the empty house, 
 alone with Deborah, the house servant. 
 
 She was looking over her father's books, 
 and takinof out one or two which she thouoiit 
 she might keep in memory of him (as if any- 
 thing were needed) when she heard steps, 
 and Deborah's voice invitino- some one to 
 enter. 
 
 It was Harry Temple ; he stood in the 
 doorway, his hat in his hand, and under his 
 arm a book. 
 
 ' I was meditating in the fields,' he said, 
 ' what I should say to Kitty Pleydell, in 
 consolation for her affliction. The learned 
 Boethius ' 
 
 ' Oh, Harry T she cried, ^ do not talk to 
 me of books. What can they say to comfort 
 anyone ?' 
 
 He smiled. Harry's smile showed how 
 much he pitied people not so learned as 
 himself 
 
 ' The greatest men,' he said, ' have been
 
 2 8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 comforted by books. Cicero, for instance . . 
 Nay, Kitty, I will not quote Cicero. I came 
 to say that I am sorry indeed to learn that we 
 shall lose thee for a time.' 
 
 ' Alas !' she said, ^ I must go. It is my 
 father's order.' 
 
 * I am sure,' he replied, ' that you would 
 not leave us for a lighter reason. You know 
 our hearts, Kitty, and how we all love you.' 
 
 ' I know ' Kitty began to cry again. 
 
 Everybody was so full of love and pity. ' T 
 know, Harry. And perhaps I shall never 
 n — n — never see you again.' 
 
 ' And does that make this parting harder ?' 
 He turned very red, and laid his precious 
 book of consolation on the table. 
 
 ' Why, of course it does,' she replied, wiping 
 her eyes. 
 
 ^ You shall see usagain,'he went on earnestly. 
 ' You shall come back with me. Kitty, I Avill 
 give you one twelvemonth of absence. You 
 know I love you tenderly. But your father's 
 commands must be obeyed. Therefore for a 
 whole year I shall not seek you out. Then, 
 when I come for you, will you return with 
 me, never to go away again '?'
 
 BOW KITTY MABE ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 29 
 
 'Oh!' she cried, claspnig her hands, ^ how 
 joyfully Avill I return !' 
 
 The young man took her hand and raised 
 it to his lips. 
 
 ' Divine maid !' he cried. ' Fit to grace a 
 coronet, or to make the home of a simple 
 gentleman an Arcadia of pastoral pleasure !' 
 
 ' Do not mock me, Harry/ she said, snatch- 
 ing away her hand, ' with idle compliments. 
 But forget not to come and carry me away.' 
 
 ' Alas !' he said ; ' how shall I exist — how 
 bear this separation for twelve long months ? 
 Oh ! divine Kitty ! Thou wilt remain an 
 ever-present idea in my heart.' 
 
 ' Harry,' she burst out laughing in her 
 tears, ' think of the learned Boethius !' 
 
 So he left her. 
 
 In half an hour another visitor appeared. 
 
 This time it was Will. He was in his 
 usual careless disorder ; his scarlet coat a 
 good deal stained, his waistcoat unbuttoned, 
 his wig awry, his boots dusty, his neckerchief 
 torn, his hands and cheeks browned by the 
 sun. He carried a horse- whip, and was fol- 
 lowed by half-a-dozen dogs, who came 
 crowdinof into the room after him.
 
 30 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' So,' he said, sittinof down and leaninof his 
 chin upon his whipstock, ^thou must go, then V 
 
 ' What do you want with me, Will V she 
 asked, angry that he should show so little 
 sympathy. 
 
 ' Why,' he replied, rubbing his chin with 
 the whipstock, ^ not much, Kitty. Nancy 
 will come to cry.' 
 
 ' Then you can go away, Will' 
 
 ' I came to say, Kitty, that though you do 
 be going to go ' (Will easily dropped into 
 country talk), ' 1 shanna forget thee. There !' 
 
 ' Thank you, Will.' 
 
 ' As for the matter of that, I love thee — 
 ah ! like I love old Bover here.' 
 
 * Thank you again. Will.' 
 
 ^ And so I've brought along a sixpence — 
 here it is — and we'll break it together.' 
 Here he bent and broke the coin with his 
 strong fingers. ' My half goes into my 
 pocket — so ; and the other half in thine — 
 there.' He threw it on the table. ' Well, 
 that's done.' He stood up, looked at me sor- 
 rowfully, and heaved a great sigh. 'I doubt 
 I've a-done w^rong. Hadst been going to 
 stay, a' w^oulden a spoke yet awhile. Liberty
 
 HO IV KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS. 31 
 
 is sweet — girls are skittish. Well, we'll take 
 a twelvemonth yet. There's no hurry. 
 Plenty time before us. I shall have my 
 liberty for that while. Mayhap I will fetch 
 thee in the spring. Ay, May's the best 
 month to leave the cloofs and the birds, thouo"li 
 the vermin will beofin to swai^m — rot 'em ! 
 Come, Rover. Good-bye, wench.' 
 
 He gave her a resounding kiss on the 
 cjieek, and turned away. 
 
 The girl laughed. She did not pick up 
 the broken sixpence, which, indeed, she hardly 
 noticed, her mind being full of many things. 
 
 Presently Nancy came, and the two girls 
 spent a miserable evening together, in great 
 love and friendship. 
 
 Now, how could an ignorant country girl, 
 who had never thougfht over these thino^s at 
 all, guess that she had engaged herself to be 
 married, in one day, in one hour even, to two 
 different men ? Yet that was exactly what 
 this foolish Kitty had actually done.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON ON THE COACH. 
 
 With the purpose, therefore, of carrying out 
 my father's injunctions, I remained for a few 
 days at the Vicarage alone, having one servant 
 to take care of me. But, had it not been for 
 an accident, I might have remained at the 
 village all my life. ' For,' said Lady Levett, 
 ' it is but right, child, that the instructions of 
 your father should be carried out ; I should 
 like to know, however, who is to take charge 
 of thee to London, and how we are to get 
 thee there ? A young maid cannot be sent 
 to London on a pack-horse, like a bundle of 
 goods. As for Sir Robert, he goes no more 
 to town, since he has ceased to be a member. 
 I care not for the court, for my own part, and 
 am now too old for the gaieties of London.
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. ^i^ 
 
 Nancy will enjoy them, I doubt not, quite soon 
 enough ; and as for the boys, I see not very 
 well how they can undertake so great a 
 charge. I doubt, Kitty,, that thou must 
 come to the Hall, after all. You can be 
 useful, child, and we will make you happy. 
 There is the still-room, where, heaven knows, 
 wdiat w-ith the cowslip-wine, the strong waterfe, 
 the conserving, pickling, drying, candying, 
 and the clove gillifiowers for palletting, there 
 is work enough for you and Nancy, as w^ell 
 as my still-room maid and myself And just 
 now. Sir Kobert calling every day for a 
 summer sallet (which wants a light hand), to 
 cool his blood !' 
 
 I would very willingly have gone to the 
 Hall ; I asked nothing better, and could 
 think of nothing more happy for myself, if it 
 could so be ordered. My father's wishes 
 must certainly be obeyed ; but if no one at 
 the Hall could take charge of me, it seemed, 
 at first, as if there could be no going to 
 London at all, for our farmers and villagers 
 were no great travellers. None of them 
 knew much of this vast round world beyond 
 their own fields, unless it w^ere the nearest 
 VOL. T. 3
 
 34 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 market- town, or perhaps Maidstone, or even 
 Canterbury. Now and again one of the 
 rustics would go for a soldier (being crossed 
 in love) ; but he never came home again to 
 tell of his campaigns. Or one would go for 
 a gentleman's servant (being too lazy to work 
 like his father) ; then he would return filled 
 with all the wickedness of London, and stay 
 corrupting the minds of the simple folk, till 
 Sir Robert bade him pack and be off, for a 
 pestilent fellow. Or one w^ould go away to 
 the nearest market-town to be apprenticed to 
 a handicraft (being ambitious, as will happen 
 even to simple clods, and aspiring to a shop). 
 But if he succeeded, such an one would 
 seldom come back to the place which gave 
 him birth. 
 
 An accident happened which served my 
 purpose. There was a certain farmer on Sir 
 Robert's estate, whose sister had married 
 a London tradesman of respectability and 
 reputed honesty, named Samuel Gambit (he 
 was a builder's foreman, who afterwards be- 
 came a master builder, and made great sums 
 of money by taking city contracts. His son, 
 after him, rose to be an alderman in the city
 
 HOIV WE CAME TO LONDON. 35 
 
 of London). Whether the young woman 
 was in ill health, or whether she was prompted 
 by affection, I know not, but she left her 
 husband for a space and journeyed into the 
 country to see her friends and people. Now 
 when I heard, by accident, that she was 
 about to return, my heart fell, because I 
 saw that my time was come, and that a 
 proper person to take charge of me during 
 the journey was found in Mrs. Gambit. 
 
 Madam sent for her. She was a strong, 
 well-built woman, of about six or seven and 
 twenty, resolute in her bearing, and sturdy of 
 speech. She was not afraid, she said, of any 
 dangers of the road, holding (but that was 
 through ignorance) highwaymen in contempt ; 
 but she could not be answerable, she said, 
 and this seemed reasonable, for the safety of 
 the coach, which might upset and break our 
 necks. As for the rest, she would be proud 
 to take the young lady with her to London, 
 and madam might, if she Avished, consider 
 the extra trouble worth something ; but that 
 she left to her ladyship. 
 
 ' I know,' said Lady Levett, ' that it is a 
 great charge for you to conduct a young gen- 
 
 3—2
 
 36 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 tlewoman to town in these bad and dangerous 
 times, when not only the high roads are 
 thronged with robbers, and the streets with 
 footpads, but also the very inns swarm with 
 villains, and gentlemen are not ashamed to 
 insult young persons of respectability in 
 stage-coaches and public places. But Kitty 
 is a good girl, not giddy, and obedient. I 
 will admonish her that she obey you in every- 
 thing upon the road, and that she keep eyes, 
 ears, and mouth closed all the way.' 
 
 The good woman undertook to have her 
 eye upon me the whole journey. Then Lady 
 Levett made her promise that she would take 
 me straight to St. Paul's Coffee House, St. 
 Paul's Churchyard, there to inquire after my 
 uncle's residence, and never leave me until 
 she had seen me deposited safely in Dr. 
 Shovel's hands. 
 
 Now was I in a flutter and agitation of 
 spirits indeed, as was natural, considering 
 that I was going to leave my native place for 
 the first time in my life and to seek out new 
 relations. 
 
 ' Nancy !' I cried, ' what will be my lot ? 
 What will become of me V
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON, 37 
 
 Nancy said that she would tell my fortune 
 if I would only leave off walking about and 
 wringing my hands and be comfortable. 
 
 Then she sat down beside me in her pretty, 
 affectionate way, and threw her arms round 
 my waist, and laid her head upon my 
 shoulder. 
 
 '■ You are so tall and so pretty, Kitty, that 
 all the men will lose their hearts. But you 
 must listen to none of them until the rioht 
 man comes. Oh ! I know what he is like. 
 He will be a great nobleman, young and 
 handsome, and oh, so rich ! he will kneel at 
 your feet as humble as a lover ought^ to be, 
 and implore you to accept his title and his 
 hand. And when you are a great lady, 
 riding in your own coach, as happy as the day 
 is long, you will forget — oh no, my dear ! 
 sure I am you will never forget 3^our loving 
 Nancy.' 
 
 Then we kissed and cried over each other 
 in our foolish girls' way, promising not only 
 kind remembrance, but even letters some- 
 times. And we exchanged tokens of friend- 
 ship. I gave her a ring, which had been my 
 mother s, made of solid silver with a turquoise
 
 38 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 and two pearls, very rich and good, and she 
 gave me a silver-gilt locket with chased back, 
 and within it a little curl of her hair, brown 
 and soft. 
 
 Lady Levett gave me nothing but her 
 admonition. I was going, she said, to a 
 house where I should meet with strangers 
 who would perhaps, after the manner of 
 strangers, be quicker at seeing a fault than a 
 grace, and this particularly at the outset and 
 very beginning, when people are apt to be 
 suspicious and to notice carefully. Therefore^I 
 was to be circumspect in my behaviour, and, 
 above all, be careful in my speech, giving soft 
 words in return for hard, and answering rail- 
 ing, if there was any railing, with silence. 
 But perhaps, she said, there would be no 
 railing, but only kindness and love, in the 
 which case I was all the more to preserve 
 sweet speech and sweet thoughts, so as not to 
 trouble love. Then she was good enough to 
 say that I had ever been a good maid and 
 dutiful, and she doubted not that so I would 
 continue in my new world, wherefore she 
 kissed me tenderly, and prayed, with tears 
 in her eyes — for my lady, though quick and
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 39 
 
 sharp, was wondrous kind of heart — that the 
 Lord would have me in His keeping. 
 
 I say nothing about Sir Robert, because 
 he was always fond of me, and would almost 
 as soon have parted from his Nancy. 
 
 Now it was a week and more since I had, 
 without knowing it, received those overtures 
 of love from Harry Temple and Will, which 
 I took in my innocence for mere overtures of 
 friendship and brotherly affection. They 
 thought, being conceited, like all young men, 
 that I had at once divined their meaning and 
 accepted their proposals ; no doubt they gave 
 themselves credit for condescension and me 
 for gratitude. Therefore, when, the evening 
 before I came away, Harry Temple begged 
 me, with many protestations of regret, not to 
 inform Sir Robert or madam of his intentions, 
 I knew not what to say. What intentions ? 
 why should I not ? 
 
 ' Reigning star of Beauty !' he cried, lay- 
 ing his hand upon his heart, ' T entreat thy 
 patience for a twelvemonth. Alas ! such 
 separation ! who can bear it ! 
 
 ( (( 
 
 Fond Thyrsis sighs, through mead and vale, 
 His absent nymph lamenting " '
 
 40 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' Oh, Harry !' I cried, ' what do I care 
 about Thyrsis and absent nymphs \ You 
 have promised to bring me back in a year. 
 Very well, then, I shall expect you. Of 
 course you can tell Sir Robert whatever you 
 please. It is nothing to me what you tell 
 Sir Kobert or my lady.' 
 
 * She is cold as Diana,' said Harry, with a 
 prodigious sigh ; but I broke from him, and 
 would hear no more of such nonsense. Sigh- 
 ing shepherds and cruel nymphs were for 
 ever on Harry Temple's lips. 
 
 As for Will, of course he wanted to have 
 an explanation too. He followed Hany, 
 and, in his rustic way, begged to say a word 
 or two. 
 
 ^ Pray go on, Will,' I said. 
 
 ' T promised a twelvemonth,' he explained. 
 ' I'll not go back upon my word. I did say 
 a twelvemonth.' 
 
 * A twelvemonth ? Oh yes. You said 
 the same as Harry, I remember.' 
 
 ^ I don't know what Harry said, but I'll 
 swear, w^iatever Harry said, I said just the 
 clean contrary. Now then, liberty's sweet, my 
 girl. Come, let us say fifteen months. Lord !
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 41 
 
 when a man is twenty-one he don't want to 
 be tied by the heels all at once. Let's both 
 have our run first. You are but a filly yet — 
 ay — a six-months' puppy, so to say.' 
 
 ^ You said a twelvemonth, Will,' I replied, 
 little thinking of w^hat he meant. How, 
 indeed, could I know ? ^ I shall expect you 
 in a twelvemonth.' 
 
 ' Very good, then. A twelvemonth it 
 must be, I suppose. Shan't tell my father 
 yet, Kitty. Don't you tell un neyther, 
 there's a e^ood oirl. Gad ! there will be a 
 pretty storm with my lady when she hears it ! 
 HoThol' 
 
 Then he went off chucklinQf" and shakino- 
 himself How could a courtly gentleman 
 like Sir Robert and a gentlewoman like her 
 ladyship have a son who was so great a clown 
 in his manner and his talk ? But the sons 
 do not always take after their parents. A 
 stable and a kennel, when they take the place 
 of a nursery and a school, are apt to breed 
 such bumpkins even out of gentle blood. 
 
 In the morning at five I was to start in 
 the cart Avhich would take us across the 
 country to the stage-coach.
 
 42 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Nancy got up with me, and we had a fine 
 farewell kissing. The boys were up too ; 
 Harry out of compliment to me, dressed in a 
 nightcap and a flowered morning-gown ; 
 and Will out of compliment to his kennel, 
 for whose sake he always rose at daybreak. 
 He was dressed in his old scarlet coat, he 
 carried a whip in one hand, and half-a-dozen 
 dogs followed at his heels. 
 
 'Kemember, sweet Kitty,' whispered 
 Harry, with a ceremonious bow, ^ it is but for 
 a twelvemonth.' 
 
 ' Only a year,' said Will. ' Heart up, my 
 pretty 1' 
 
 They heard what each had said, and they 
 were looking at each other puzzled when I 
 drove away. 
 
 ' What did you mean. Will ?' asked Harry, 
 when the cart was out of sight, ^ by saying 
 only a twelvemonth ? 
 
 ' I meant what I meant/ he replied dog- 
 gedly. ' Perhaps you know, and perhaps 
 you don't.' 
 
 ^ Of course I know/ said Harry. ^ The 
 question is, how do you know "?' 
 
 ' Well/ replied Will, ' that is a pretty odd
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 
 
 43 
 
 question, to be sure. How could I help 
 knowing X 
 
 ' I think/ said Harry, red in the face, 
 ' that some one has been injudicious in telling 
 anyone.' 
 
 Will laughed. 
 
 ' She ought not to have told, that's a fact. 
 But we will keep it secret, Harry ; don't tell 
 her ladyship.' 
 
 So that each thouoiit that the other knew 
 of his engagement with Kitty. 
 
 Little heed gave I to them and their 
 promises. It was pleasant, perhaps, though 
 I soon forgot to think about it at all, to re- 
 member that Harry and Will after a 
 twelvemonth Avould come to carry me home 
 again, and that I should never leave the old 
 place again. But just then I was too sad to 
 remember this. I was going away, heaven 
 knew where, amongst strangers, to people 
 who knew me not ; and I mounted the cart 
 in which we were to begin our journey crying 
 as sadly as if it had been the dreadful cart 
 which goes to Tyburn Tree. The best thing 
 to cure a crying fit is a good jolting. It is 
 impossible to weep comfortably when you are
 
 44 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 shaken and rolled about in a country cart 
 among the deep, hard ruts of last winter. 
 So I presently put np my handkerchief, dried 
 my eyes, and thought of nothing but of cling- 
 ing to Mrs. Gambit when the wheels sank 
 deeper than usual. The way lay along the 
 lanes which I knew so well, arched over with 
 trees and lofty hedges, then in their beautiful 
 spring dressing. It led past the churchyard, 
 where the sun was striking full upon my 
 father's new-made s^rave. I tried to think of 
 him, but the cart jolted so terribly that I was 
 fain to remember only how I carried his last 
 admonitions in my bosom, and the money in 
 two bags sewn to my petticoats. 
 
 Presently the lane led on to the high-road, 
 which was not quite so rough, and here we 
 came to the roadside inn where the stage- 
 coach changed horses. We waited an hour 
 or so, until at length we saw it coming slowly 
 up the hill, piled with packages and crowded 
 with passengers. But there was room for 
 two more, and we mounted to our places out- 
 side. Presently the machine moved slowly 
 along again. It was so heavily-laden and the 
 roads were so rough, that we rolled as if every
 
 BOIV WE CAME TO LOyDON. 45 
 
 moment we were going to roll over into the 
 ditch, where we should all be killed. Mrs. 
 Gambit loudly declared that nothing should 
 ever again take her out of London, wdiere a 
 body could ride in a coach without the fear of 
 being upset and the breaking of necks. On 
 this journey, however, no necks were broken, 
 because the coach did not upset. When the 
 rolling was very bad, Mrs. Gambit clutched 
 me with one hand and her left-hand neioii- 
 hour with the other. I, in my turn, seized 
 her with one hand and my right-hand neigh- 
 bour with the other. Then we both shrieked, 
 until presently, finding that we did not 
 actually go over, I began to laugh. 
 
 My neighbour was a clergyman of grave 
 and studious aspect. He wore a full wig, 
 which had certainly been a second-hand one 
 when it w^as bought, so shabby was it now ; 
 his gown was also shabby, and his stockings 
 were of grey w^orsted. Clearly a country 
 clergyman of humble means. His face, how- 
 ever, looked young. When I caught him by 
 the arm, he laid hold of my hand with both 
 of his, saying, gravely, ' Now, madam, I hold 
 you so tightly that you cannot fall.' This
 
 46 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 was very kind of him. And, presently, he 
 wanted to lay his arm round my waist for my 
 better protection. But this was taking more 
 trouble than I would consent to. 
 
 There was, however, a worse danger than 
 that of upsetting. This year, England suffered 
 from a plague of highway robbers, the like of 
 which was never before known. The roads 
 were crowded with them. They were mostly 
 disbanded soldiers, who, being either disin- 
 clined to return to their old trades, or being 
 unable to find employment, roamed about the 
 country either singly or in pairs, or in bands, 
 rogues and vagabonds, ready to rob, steal, 
 plunder, or even murder as occasion offered. 
 They were sometimes so bold that they would 
 attack a whole coachful of passengers, and 
 take from them whatever they carried, unless, 
 as sometimes happened, there were one or 
 two valiant men on the coach ready to give 
 them a warm reception with guns, pistols, 
 swords, or even stout cudgels. They were 
 said seldom to show much fight (being con- 
 scious of the gallows awaiting them if 
 they were wounded or captured), and would 
 generally make off. But it was not always
 
 no IV WE CAME TO LONDON. 47 
 
 that passengers were found ready to risk the 
 fight, and in most cases they sat still and de- 
 livered. 
 
 With this danger before us, it was not 
 surprising that the conversation should turn 
 upon highwaymen whenever the road became 
 a little smooth, and I listened with terror to 
 the tales I heard. Most of them Avere related 
 by a man who sat opposite to me. He wore 
 a scratch wig (probably his second-best), and 
 had his hat flapped and tied about his ears as 
 if it w^ere winter. He was, I suppose, a 
 merchant of some kind, because he talked a 
 great deal about prices, and stocks, and 
 markets, with other things, Greek and 
 Hebrew to me. Also, he looked so uneasy, 
 and kept watching the road with so anxious 
 an air, that I felt sure he must be carrying a 
 great parcel of money, like me, and I longed 
 to advise him to imitate my prudence ; and at 
 the next town we got down to sew it within 
 his coat. He continually lamented, as we 
 went along, the desperate wickedness of the 
 highway-robbers : he spoke of it as if he were 
 entirely disinterested, and regarded not at all 
 the peril to his own fortune, but only the
 
 48 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 dano'er of their own souls, liable to be 
 wretchedly lost and thrown away by their 
 dreadful courses. And he talked so feelingly 
 on this subject that one began to feel as if 
 good words were being spoken to the edifica- 
 tion of the soul. As for their suppression, 
 he said that, in their own interests, strong 
 measures would be necessary. Trade would 
 never flourish, and therefore men would not 
 be induced to follow a respectable trade until 
 ships could sail the seas without fear of 
 pirates, and honest merchants carry their 
 property up and down the king's highway 
 without fear of highwaymen. Here we came 
 in sight of a man on horseback, and we all 
 kept silence for an anxious space, till we dis- 
 covered, by his grep.t wig and black coat, 
 that it was nothing but a country surgeon 
 riding out to see a patient. Then the mer- 
 chant went on to say that since the gallows 
 did not terrify these evil-doers, he, for one, 
 vras for trying how they would like the 
 French wheel. 
 
 At this there was a terrible outcry : the 
 clergyman, especially, asking if he wished to 
 introduce French barbarities.
 
 HOW WF. CAME TO LOAWON. 49 
 
 * Such things,' he said solemnly, ' are the 
 natural accompaniment of Popery. Pray, sir, 
 remember Smithfield.' 
 
 ^ Sir,' said the merchant, ^ I hope I am as 
 good a Protestant as my neighbours. I call 
 that, however, not barbarity but justice and 
 mercy which punishes the guilty and deters the 
 weak. As for barbarities, are we Protestants 
 better than our neighbours'? Is it not barbarous 
 to floo* our soldiers and sailors for insubor- 
 dination ; to floo^ our roofues at the cart-tail ; 
 to lash the backs of women in Bridewell ; to 
 cut and scourge the pickpockets so long as 
 the alderman chooses to hold up the hammer ? 
 Do we not hack the limbs of our traitors, and 
 stick them up on Temple Bar ? Truly, the 
 world would come to a pretty pass if we were 
 to ask our cut-throats what punishment would 
 hurt them least.' 
 
 ' I like not the breaking of legs on wheels/ 
 cried Mrs. Gambit. ' But to call the flogging 
 of Bridewell hussies barbarous ! Fie, sir \ 
 You might as well call bull -baiting barbarous.* 
 
 No one wanted to encourage highway 
 robbers, yet none but this merchant from 
 foreign parts would allow that an Englishman, 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 however wicked, should cruelly have his 
 
 limbs broken and crushed by a rod of iron. 
 ' As for the gentlemen of the road,' said 
 
 Mrs. Gambit, ' I, for one, fear them not. 
 
 They may take the butter and eggs in my 
 
 basket, but they won't find my money, for 
 
 that is in my shoe.' 
 
 ' Nor mine,' said I, taking courage and 
 
 thinking to show my cleverness ; * for it is all 
 
 sewn safe inside my petticoats.' 
 
 ' Hush, silly women !' cried the merchant. 
 *You know not but there is a highwayman 
 sitting in disguise on the coach beside you. 
 I beg pardon, sir,' he turned to the clergy- 
 man beside me — ' no offence, sir — though I 
 have heard of a thief who robbed a coach 
 after travelling in it dressed as a gentleman 
 of your cloth.' 
 
 ' None, sir, none,' replied his reverence. 
 ' Yet am I not a highwayman, I do assure 
 you for your comfort. Nor have I any money 
 in my pocket or my shoe. I am but a simple 
 clergyman, going to look at a benefice which 
 hath been graciously bestowed upon me.' 
 
 ' That, sir,' said the merchant, ' is satisfac- 
 tory, and I hope that no other ears have heard
 
 HO IV WE CAME TO LONDON. 51 
 
 what these ladies have disclosed. Shoes ? 
 petticoats ? Oh, the things that I have seen 
 and heard !' 
 
 The clergyman then told us that he had a 
 wife and six daughters^ and that the prefer- 
 ment (two hundred pounds a year !) would 
 make a man of him, Avho had as yet been little 
 better than a slave with sixty pounds for all 
 his income. The Christian year, he told us, 
 was a long Lent for him, save that sometimes, 
 as at Christmas and Easter-tide, he was able 
 to taste meat given to him. Yet he looked 
 fat and hearty. 
 
 ' My drink,' he said, ' is from the spring, 
 which costs nothing ; and my bread is but 
 oatmeal-porridge, potatoes, or barley-meal.' 
 
 Then he pressed my hand in his, said I re- 
 sembled his wife in her younger days, and de- 
 clared that he already felt to me like a father. 
 
 There sat next to the merchant a young 
 gentleman of about seventeen or eighteen, 
 brave in scarlet, for he had just received 
 a commission as ensign in a regiment of 
 the line, and was on his way to join his 
 colours, as he told us with pride. Directly 
 highway robbers were mentioned he as- 
 
 4—2
 
 52 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 sumecl, being a young man with rosy and 
 blushing cheek, fitter for a game of cricket on 
 the green than for war's alarms, a fierce and 
 warlike mien, and assured us that we ladies 
 should not want protection while he was on 
 the coach. And he made a great show of 
 loosening his sword in the scabbard to ensure 
 its quick and ready use, should the occasion 
 rise. The merchant received these profes- 
 sions of courage with undisguised contempt ; 
 the clergyman smiled ; Mrs. Gambit nodded 
 her head and laughed, as if he was a boy 
 whose talk meant nothing. I neither laughed 
 at him nor scowled at him. In fact I was 
 thinking, girl-like, what a handsome boy he 
 was, and hoping that he would some day 
 become a great general. As the country 
 seems at the present juncture sadly in want 
 of great generals, I fear he has been killed in 
 action. 
 
 When we stopped for dinner, at one 
 o'clock — I remember that I never before saw 
 so prodigious a piece of roast beef upon 
 the table — our host must needs spoil all 
 enjoyment of the meal by asking us, just as 
 we were sat down, sharp-set by the air, if we
 
 now WE CAME TO LONDON, 53 
 
 had met or seen anything of a certain ' Black 
 Will/ who seemed to be very well known by 
 all. The very name caused our poor merchant 
 to push back his plate untasted, and the 
 young officer to rise from the table and hasten 
 to assure himself that his sword was loose in 
 the scabbard. 
 
 ^ Because/ said the kaidlord, ' it is right for 
 you to know that Black Will is reported in 
 this neio'hbourhood with all his crew : a 
 bloody lot, gentlemen. I hope you have no 
 valuables to speak of upon you. However, 
 perhaps they will not meet you on the road. 
 They murdered a man last year, a young 
 gentleman like you, sir/ nodding to the 
 ensign, 'because he offered resistance and 
 drew his sword. What is a little toothpick 
 like that, compared with a quarter-staff in the 
 hands of a sturdy rogue ? So they beat his 
 brains out for him. Then they gagged and 
 used most unmercifully, kicking him till he 
 was senseless, an honest gentleman like your- 
 self, sir' — he nodded to our merchant — ' who 
 gave them the trouble of taking off his boots, 
 where, for greater safety, as the poor wretch 
 thought, he had bestowed his money '
 
 54 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' God bless my soul !' cried the merchant, 
 changing colour so that I for one felt quite 
 certain that his was there too, and that his 
 courage was down in his boots as well, to 
 keep the money company. ^ Bless my soul ! 
 hanging, mere hanging, is too good for such 
 villains.' 
 
 ' It is indeed,' replied the landlord, shaking 
 his head. * There was a young lady, too' — I 
 started, because he looked at me — ' who had 
 her money sewn in a bag inside her frock.' T 
 blushed red, knowing where mine was. 
 ^ They made her take it off and danco a 
 minuet with one of them in her petticoats. 
 But indeed there is no end to their Avicked- 
 ness. Come, gentlemen, let me carve faster ; 
 spare not the beef ; don't let Black Will spoil 
 your appetites. Cut and come again. He 
 may be twenty miles away. A noble sirloin, 
 upon my word ! To be sure, he may be Avait- 
 ing on the hill there in the wood.' 
 
 ' A glass of brandy, landlord,' cried the 
 merchant, who surely was a dreadful coward. 
 ' Tell me, would he be alone ?' 
 
 ' Not likely.' The landlord, I thought, took 
 a pleasure in making us uneasy. ' He would
 
 now W£ CAME TO LONDON. 55 
 
 have two or three with him. Perhaps six. 
 With pistols. Do take some more beef. 
 And bhinderbusses. Ah ! a desjDerate wicked 
 
 c^ang^.' 
 
 In such cheerful discourse we took our 
 dinner, and then, with trepidation, mounted 
 to our places and drove away. 
 
 We got up the hill safely, and met no 
 Black Will. During: the next stag^e Ave all 
 kept an anxious look up and down the road. 
 The coach seemed to crawl, and the way was 
 rouo^h. The sig^ht of a man on horseback 
 made our hearts beat ; if we saw two, we gave 
 ourselves up for lost. But I was pleased all 
 the time to mark the gallant and resolute 
 behaviour of the boy, who, with his hand 
 upon the hilt of his sword, sat pale but de- 
 termined; and when he caught my eye, smiled 
 with the courage of one who would defend us 
 to the death, as I am sure he would, like the 
 gallant young knight he was. 
 
 Towards the evening we caught sight of 
 the tower of Canterbury Cathedral, and soon 
 afterwards we rolled throuoli the streets of 
 that ancient city, and got down at the Crown 
 Inn, where we were to rest for the night.
 
 56 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 I pass over, as unworthy of record, my own 
 wonder at so great and beautiful a city. This 
 was the first town I had ever seen ; these the 
 first shops ; and this the first, and still the 
 grandest, to my mind, of great cathedral 
 churches. We walked through the great 
 church at sunset, where there was something 
 truly awful in the lofty arches mounting- 
 heavenwards, and the gloom of the roof. 
 Outside there were Gothic ruins ; rooks v/ere 
 calling to each other in the trees, and swifts 
 were flying about the tower. 
 
 At supper we had more talk about high- 
 way robbers, but we were assured that there 
 was less danger now, because between Canter- 
 bury and London the road is more frequented, 
 and therefore robbers, who are by nature a 
 timorous folk, hesitate to attack a coach. 
 Moreover, the landlord told us that we should 
 have with us two or three honest citizens of 
 Canterbury, substantial tradesmen, who 
 travelled to London together for mutual pro- 
 tection, taking money with them, and pistols 
 with which to defend themselves. 
 
 * One of them,' he added, ' is a lieutenant 
 in the train-band, and a draper in the city : a
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 57 
 
 more resolute fellow never handled a yard- 
 measure.' 
 
 The gentlemen ordered a bowl of punch 
 after supper, and we retired. As we left the 
 room, the clergyman followed us. Outside 
 the door, Mrs. Gambit having already begun 
 to go upstairs, he said he would give me his 
 benediction, which he did, kissing me on the 
 cheeks and lips with much (and undeserved) 
 affection. He was good enough to say that 
 I greatly resembled his youngest sister, the 
 beautiful one, and he desired closer acquaint- 
 ance. Nor could I understand why Mrs. 
 Gambit spoke scornfully of this act of kind- 
 ness, which was entirely unexpected by me. 
 ' Kindness, quotha !' she cried. ' A pious 
 man indeed, to love to kiss a pretty maid 
 I like not such piety.' 
 
 In the morning the train-band lieutenant, 
 with his two friends, came swasfsrerino^ to the 
 inn. He carried his pistols openly, and made 
 more display of them, I thought, than was 
 necessary, considering his character for reso- 
 lution and desperate bravery. Then we 
 started, our little soldier still ready with his 
 sword.
 
 58 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 The road was smoother ; it ran for the 
 most part along enclosures and gentle- 
 men's parks. It was broad and straight, 
 having been made, we were told by the 
 draper, in the time of the Romans ; and 
 as we drew nearer to London, the villages 
 became more frequent, and the road was 
 covered with carts, waggons, and carriages of 
 every kind, all moving towards London. 
 Was London bigger than Canterbury ? I 
 asked. They laughed at my innocence, and 
 began to tell me that you might take the 
 whole of Canterbury out of London and not 
 miss it much : also that he or she who had 
 not seen London had not seen the greatest 
 marvel and wonder of the world. 
 
 * There are fine buildings,' said the mer- 
 chant, ' in Paris, though the streets are foul ; 
 but in London there are buildings as fine, 
 with streets that are broader : and there is 
 the trade. Aha !' — he smacked his lips — • 
 ' Paris hath no trade. One has to see the 
 ships in the . Pool, and the Custom House, 
 and the wharves, before one can understand 
 how great and rich a city is London. And 
 one should also — but that, young lady, you
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 59 
 
 cannot ever do, live as long as you will, 
 being only a woman — feast at one of the 
 great City Companies to understand how 
 nobly they can use their wealth.' 
 
 We were still anxious about highwaymen, 
 but our fears were greatly lessened by the 
 presence of the brave draper of Canterbury. 
 The clergyman kept up a flow of anecdotes, 
 which showed strange acquaintance with the 
 wickedness of the Avorld, on highwaymen, 
 footpads, robbers of all kinds, deceivers of 
 strangers, and practisers on innocence. The 
 merchant listened eagerly, and together they 
 bemoaned the credulity of the ignorant, and 
 the subtlety of the designing. 
 
 Our spirits grew higher as we neared the 
 end of our journey. Now, indeed, there was 
 but little fear. The coach travels from 
 Canterbury to London in a single day; we 
 should arrive before nightfall. 
 
 ' Ha ! ha 1' said the merchant, rubbing his 
 hands, ^ we who travel encounter many 
 dangers. In London one can go to bed 
 without fearing to be murdered in your 
 sleep, and walk abroad without looking to 
 be brained and murderouslv treated for the
 
 6o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 sake of a purse and a watch. There may 
 be pickpockets, shophfters, and such petty 
 rogues : there may be footpads about St. 
 Pancras or Lincohi's Inn Fields, but small 
 villains ail compared with these desperate 
 rogues of highwaymen.' 
 
 ' Desperate indeed/ said the clergyman. 
 •* Dear sir, we should be grateful for our pre- 
 servation.' 
 
 It was already past seven when we arrived 
 at the Talbot Inn. The merchant fetched a 
 deep sigh, and thanked Providence aloud for 
 keeping us safe from the danger of ^ Stand and 
 deliver !' The clergyman said, ' Amen,' but 
 gently reproved the merchant for not allow- 
 ing him, as an ordained minister, to take the 
 lead in every devotional exercise. When 
 they got clown they entered the house to- 
 gether. The young ensign pulled off his hat 
 to me, and said that no doubt the rogues had 
 got wind of an officer's presence on the stage. 
 Then he tapped his sword-hilt significantly, 
 and got down, and I saw him no more. The 
 gallant draper, getting down slowly, lamented 
 that he must still be carrying loaded pistols, 
 Vvdtli never an opportunity for using them
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 6i 
 
 upon the I'oad, and uncocked his weapons 
 with as much ostentatious care as he had 
 shown in loading them. For my own part, I 
 had no taste for fighting, or for seeing fights, 
 and was only too glad to escape the hands of 
 men who, if tales were true, did not even 
 respect a girl's frocks. The clergyman be- 
 stowed a final benediction upon me, saying 
 that he craved my name with a view to a 
 closer friendship ; and would have kissed me 
 again had not Mrs. Gambit pushed him 
 away with great roughness. 
 
 The thing I am now about to relate will 
 doubtless seem incredible. Yet it is true. I 
 learned it some time after, when Black Will 
 was hanged, and his last Dying Speech and 
 Confession was cried in the streets. 
 
 The merchant and the clergyman entered 
 the Talbot Inn to drink together a bowl of 
 punch at the former's expense. Before sepa- 
 rating, the latter, out of respect for his cloth, 
 called for a private room, whither the punch 
 was presently brought. 
 
 Now, when they had taken a glass or two 
 each, both being very merry, they were dis- 
 turbed by the entrance of three tall and ill-
 
 62 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 favoured fellows, who walked into the room 
 and sat dow^n, one on each side of the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 ' Gentlemen !' he cried, ' this is a private 
 room, ordered by his reverence here and 
 myself for the peaceful drinking of a thanks- 
 giving glass.' 
 
 ' No/ replied the clergyman, rising and 
 locking the door ; ^ I find, dear sir, that this 
 room had been already bespoke by these 
 gentlemen, Avho are friends of mine own, and 
 that we have ver}^ urgent business which 
 particularly concerns yourself 
 
 At these words the merchant turned 
 pale, being, as you may imagine, horribly 
 frightened, and perceiving that he had fallen 
 into a nest of hornets. Whereupon he 
 sprang to his feet, and would have rushed to 
 the door, but that two of the villains seized 
 him and pushed him back into the chair, 
 while the third drew a knife and held it at 
 his throat, informing him that his weasand 
 would most certainly be cut across did he 
 but move a finger or utter a sigh. At this 
 dreadful threat the poor man gave himself 
 up for lost, and said no more, only the tears
 
 HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. (,2> 
 
 of despair rolled down his face as he thought 
 of what was going to happen to him. 
 
 The good clergyman then, with smiles and 
 a polite bow, informed him that in this world 
 things are not always what they seemed to 
 be. ' Honest tradesmen,' he said, ' often turn 
 out to be common cheats, and substantial 
 citizens become bankrupts. Therefore, it is 
 not surprising if a reverend minister of the 
 Established Church should occasionally bear 
 a hand in a little scheme in which good acting 
 and dexterity are essentials necessary for suc- 
 cess. In fact,' he went on, drinking up all 
 the punch meanwhile, ' though to you and 
 to many good friends I am a pious divine, 
 among my particular intimates and these 
 gentlemen of the road ' — here he pointed to 
 the three villains — ^ I am no other than 
 Black Will, at your service ! Nay, do not 
 faint, dear sir. Although you would break 
 me on the wheel, had you the power, I 
 assure you I shall do you no harm in the 
 world. Wherefore, kick off your boots !' 
 
 Alas ! in his boots was the money which 
 the poor man was bringing home from 
 France. They took it all. They tied him to
 
 64 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 his chair, and that to the table. They 
 gagged him ; they put his wig on the table, 
 tied a handkerchief over his head, so that he 
 should seem to be asleep ; and then they left 
 him, telling the waiter that the gentleman 
 in the blue room was tired after his journey, 
 and would like to be undisturbed for an hour 
 or two. 
 
 To think that this villain (who was but 
 twenty-four when he was hanged, a year or 
 so later) should dare to feel towards me like 
 a father, and to give me his blessing — on the 
 lips !
 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 
 
 It was past seven in the evening w^hen we 
 arrived at the Talbot Inn of Southwark, and 
 too late to begin our search after my uncle 
 that evening. Mrs. Gambit, therefore, after 
 conference with a young man of eight-and- 
 twenty or so, dressed in broadcloth, very 
 kindly offered me a bed at her own lodging 
 for the night. This, she told me, was in a 
 quiet and most respectable neighbourhood, 
 viz., Fore Street, which she begged me not to 
 confound wdth Houndsditch. I readily as- 
 sured her that I would preserve separate the 
 ideas of the two streets, which was easy to 
 one who knew neither. 
 
 She then informed me that the young man 
 Avas no other than her husband, foreman of 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 works to a builder, and that, to save the expense 
 of a porter, he would himself carry my box. 
 Mr. Gambit upon this touched his hat re- 
 spectfully, grinned, shouldered the box, and 
 led the way, pushing through the crowd 
 around us, and elbowing them to right and left 
 without a word of excuse, as if they were so 
 many ninepins. 
 
 I learned afterwards that it is customary 
 with the mechanical tradesmen of London 
 thus to assert their right of passage, and as 
 it is not everyone who gives w^ay, the porter's 
 burden is not unfrequently lowered while he 
 stops to fight one who disputes his path. In 
 evidence of these street fights, most of the 
 London carters, coachmen, chairmen, porters, 
 and labourers, bear continually upon their 
 faces the scars, recent or ancient, of many 
 such encounters. As for the gentlemen, it 
 seems right that they should not disdain to 
 strip and take a turn with their fists against 
 some burly rufiian who would thrust his un- 
 mannerly body past his betters, confident in 
 his superior strength. 
 
 Mr. Gambit looked round from time to 
 time to see if we were following, and it gave
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 67 
 
 me pain to observe how my box, which was 
 long in shape, became the constant cause of 
 sad accidents ; for with it Mr. Gambit either 
 knocked off a hat, or deranged a wig, or 
 struck violently some peaceful person on the 
 back of his head, or gave an inoffensive 
 citizen a black eye, or caused profane pas- 
 sengers to swear. He was, however, so big, 
 strong, and careless about these reproaches, 
 that no one cared to stop him or offered to 
 fight him until he was well on ahead. 
 
 ' It's a royal supper,' he turned and nodded 
 pleasantly, shouting these words to his wife ; 
 the box thus brouo^ht at rioiit angles to the 
 road, barred the way while he spoke, except 
 to the very short. ' Tripe — fried tripe I — 
 with onions and carrots and potatoes. Will 
 be done to a turn at eight. Make haste 1' 
 
 What crowds ! what rushing to and fro ! 
 vv hat jostling, pushing, and crowding ! What 
 hurrying, and what wicked language ! Sure 
 something dreadful must have happened, nor 
 could I believe Mrs. Gambit when she as- 
 sured me that this was the usual crowd of 
 London. 
 
 Then we came to London Brido'e : and I 
 
 o 
 
 5—2
 
 6S THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 saw the ships in the river and the Tower of 
 London. Oh, the forests of masts ! And, 
 beyond the river, the steeples of the great 
 city shining bright in the evening sunshine. 
 Which of them was my uncle's church ? 
 
 We crossed the bridge ; we walked up 
 Gracechurch Street to Cornhill ; we passed 
 through a labyrinth of narrow and winding 
 lanes, crowded like the wider streets. Mr. 
 Gambit hurried along, thinking, I suppose, of 
 his supper, and using my box as a kind of 
 battering-ram with which to force a way. 
 Presently we came to a broad street, w^hich 
 was, in fact, Fore Street, where was Mrs. 
 Gambit's lodging. 
 
 ' Eight o'clock,' said Mr. Gambit, as we 
 reached the top of the stairs. * Now for 
 supper.' 
 
 There was such a noise in the street below 
 that we could hardly hear the church bells as 
 they struck the hour. Yet there were churches 
 all round us. But their bells clanging together 
 only added somewhat to the general tumult. 
 
 ^ Eight o'clock, wife — good time !' 
 
 He dropped my box upon the floor, and 
 hastened down the stairs.
 
 HOJV KITTY FJTST SAW THE DOCTOR. 69 
 
 It was a comfortable lodging of two rooms, 
 in one of Avliicli a cloth was laid for supper, 
 which Mr. Gambit speedily brought from a 
 cook-shop, and we had a royal supper indeed, 
 with two cjuarts at least of the nauseous 
 black beer of London, to which such men are 
 extravagantly addicted. 
 
 Supper ended, Mr. Gambit lit a pipe of 
 tobacco and began to smoke, begging me not 
 to mind him. His wife told him of the farm 
 and her brother, and I tried to listen through 
 the dreadful noise of the street below. It 
 was a warm evening, and our window was 
 thrown open ; people were passing up and 
 down, talking, singing, whistling, shouting, 
 and swearing. I could hear nothing else ; 
 but the good man seemed as if he was deaf 
 to the roar of the street, and listened to his 
 wife as quietly as if we were in the fields. I 
 asked him presently, with a shout, what was 
 the cause of the dreadful riot and tumult % 
 He laughed, and said that it was always the 
 same. It was a pity, I said, that London, 
 being so rich, could not keep the streets 
 quiet. 
 
 ' Ay, but,' said he, ' there are plenty of
 
 70 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 poor people as well, and you must first ask 
 what they think about having their mouths 
 shut; 
 
 The strangeness of the place and the noise 
 in the streets kept me awake nearl}^ all that 
 night, so that, when Mrs. Gambit called me 
 in the morning, I was still tired. But it was 
 time to be up and seeking for my uncle. 
 
 We got everything ready : my father's last 
 will and testament; my bags of money, which 
 Mrs. Gambit carried for me in her basket, 
 and tied the basket to her arm ; and my box 
 of clothes. Then, because Mrs. Gambit said 
 that a young lady should not v/alk with her 
 box carried by a porter, like a servant wench, 
 we hired a coach and told him to drive us to 
 St. Paul's Coffee House. 
 
 It is not far from Fore Street to St. Paul's 
 Churchyard, but the crowd in the streets, the 
 waggons and carts, and the dreadful practice 
 of London drivers to quarrel and then to 
 stop while they abuse each other, delayed us 
 a great deal, so that it was already half-past 
 nine when we came to the Coffee House. 
 
 We got down, leaving the coach at the door. 
 
 It was a place the like of which I had
 
 BO IV KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 71 
 
 never dreamed of. To be sure, everythino- 
 was new to me just then, and my poor rustic 
 brain was turning with the novelty. There 
 was a long room which smelt of tobacco, rum- 
 punch, coffee, chocolate, and tea ; it was 
 already filled with gentlemen, sitting on the 
 benches before small tables, at which some 
 were taking pipes of tobacco, some were 
 talkino^, some were writing^, and some were 
 reading the newspapers. Kunning along one 
 side of the room was a counter covered with 
 coffee-pots, bottles of Nantz, Jamaica rum, 
 Hollands, and Geneva ; there were also 
 chocolate-dishes, sugar, lemons, spices, and 
 punch-bowls. Behind the counter sat a 
 young woman, of grave aspect, knitting, but 
 holding herself in readiness to sersre the cus- 
 tomers. 
 
 The gentlemen raised their heads and 
 stared at me ; some of them whispered and 
 laucrhed : all o^azed as if a Avoman had no 
 more business there than in the inner pre- 
 cincts of the Temple. That was what occurred 
 to me instantly, because they were, I observed, 
 all of them clergymen. 
 
 They were not, certainly, clergymen who
 
 72 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE ELEET. 
 
 appeared to have risen in the world, nor did 
 their appearance speak so much in their 
 favour as their calhng. They were mostly, 
 in fact, clad in tattered gowns, with dis- 
 ordered or shabby wigs, and bands whose 
 whiteness might have been restored by the 
 laundress, but had changed long since into a 
 crumpled yellow. I heard afterwards that 
 the house was the resort of those ' tattered 
 crapes,* as they are irreverently called, who 
 come to be hired by the rectors, vicars, and 
 beneficed clergy of London, for an occasional 
 sermon, burial, or christening, and have no 
 regular cure of souls. 
 
 On such chance employment and odd jobs 
 these reverend ministers contrive to live. 
 They even vie with each other and underbid 
 their neighbours for such work ; and some, 
 who have not the means to spend a sixpence 
 at the Coffee House, will, it is said, walk up 
 and down the street, ready to catch a customer 
 outside. One fears that there must be other 
 reasons besides lack of interest for the ill 
 success of these men. Surely, a godly life 
 and zeal for religion should be, even in this 
 country of patronage, better rewarded than
 
 HOW KITJY FIRST SAW THE VOCTOR. 73 
 
 by this old age of penury and dependence. 
 Surely, too, those tattered gowns speak a 
 tale of improvidence, and those red noses tell 
 of a mistaken calling. 
 
 This, however, I did not then know, and I 
 naturally thought there must be some great 
 ecclesiastical function in preparation, a con- 
 firming on a large scale, about to be celebrated 
 in the great cathedral close beside, whose 
 vastness was such as amazed and confounded 
 me. These clergymen, whose poverty was 
 no doubt dignified by their virtues, were 
 probably preparing for the sacred function 
 after the manner practised by my father, 
 namely, by an hour's meditation. Perhaps 
 my uncle would be among them. 
 
 Seeing me standing there helpless, and I 
 dare say showing, by my face, what I imme- 
 diately manifested in speech, my rusticity, 
 the young woman behind the counter came 
 to my assistance, and asked me, very civilly, 
 what I lacked. 
 
 ' I was told,' I stammered, ' to inquire at 
 the St. Paul's Coffee House for the present 
 lodging of my uncle.' As if there was but 
 one uncle in all London !
 
 74 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 * Certainly, madam,' said the woman, ' if 
 you will tell me yom^ uncle's name.' 
 
 * I was told that you knew, at this house, 
 the residence of every London clergyman.' 
 
 ^ Yes, madam, that is true ; and of a good 
 many country clergymen. If you will let 
 me knovz his name, we will do what we can 
 to assist you.' 
 
 ' He is named ' (I said this with a little 
 pride, because I thought that perhaps, from 
 my own rusticity and the homeliness of my 
 companion, she might not have thought me 
 so highl}^ connected), * he is the Keverend 
 Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity.' 
 
 * Lord save us !' she cried, starting back 
 a^nd holding up her hands, while she dropped 
 her knitting-needle. Why did she stare, 
 smile, and then look upon me with a sort of 
 pity and Avonder ? ' Dr. Shovel is your 
 uncle, madam ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' I said. ' My father, who Avas also 
 a clergyman, and is but lately dead, bade me 
 come to London and seek him out.' 
 
 She shook her head at this news, and called 
 for one AVilliam. There came from the other 
 end of the room a short-legged man, with the
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR, 75 
 
 palest cheeks and the reddest nose I had 
 ever seen. They spoke together for a few 
 minutes. WiUiam grmned as she spoke, and 
 scratched his head, under the scantiest wio' I 
 had ever seen. 
 
 * Can you tell me ?' I began, when she 
 returned. I observed that William, when he 
 left her, ran quickly up the room, whispering 
 to the gentlemen, who had ceased to stare at 
 me, and that, as soon as he had whispered, 
 they all, with one consent, put down their 
 pipes, or their papers, or their coffee, stayed 
 their conversation, and turned their clerical 
 faces to gaze upon me, Avith a universal grin, 
 which seemed ill-bred, if one might so speak 
 of the clergy. ' Can you tell me ?' 
 
 * I can, madam ; and will,' she replied. 
 * What, did your father not know the present 
 residence of Dr. Shovel % I fear it will not 
 be cjuite such as a young lady of your breed- 
 ing, madam, had a right to expect. But 
 doubtless you have other and better friends.' 
 
 ' She has indeed,' said Mrs. Gambit, ' if 
 his honour Sir Eobert Levett, Justice of the 
 Peace, is to be called a good friend. But, if 
 you please, tell us quickly, madam, because
 
 76 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 our coach waits at the door, and waiting is 
 money in London. The country for me, 
 where a man will sit on a stile the whole day 
 long, and do nothing, content with his daily 
 wage. And the sooner we get away from 
 these reverend gentlemen, who stare as if 
 they had never seen a young lady from the 
 country before, the better.' 
 
 ^ Then/ the young woman went on, ' tell 
 your man to drive you down Ludgate Hill 
 and up the Fleet Market on the prison side ; 
 he may stop at the next house to the third 
 Pen and Hand. You will find the doctor's 
 name written on a card in the window.' 
 
 We thanked her, and got into the coach. 
 When we told the coachman where to go, he 
 smacked his leof with his hand, and burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 ' I thought as much,' cried the impudent 
 rascal. ' Ah, Mother Slylips ! wouldn't the 
 doctor serve your turn, but you must needs 
 look out for one in the Coffee House ? I 
 warrant the doctor is good enough for the 
 likes of you T 
 
 He cracked his whip, and we drove off 
 slowly.
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 77 
 
 Now, which was really extraordinary, all 
 the reverend gentlemen of the coffee-room 
 had left their places and were crowded round 
 the door, some of them almost pushing their 
 wigs into the coach windows in their eager- 
 ness to look at us. This seemed most un- 
 seemly conduct on the part of a collection of 
 divines ; nor did I imagine that curiosity so 
 undignified, and so unworthy a sacred profes- 
 sion, could be called forth by the simple 
 appearance of a young girl in the coffee-room. 
 
 The faces formed a curious picture. Some 
 of the clergymen were stooping, some stand- 
 ing, some mounting on chairs, the better to 
 see, so that the doorway of the Coffee House 
 seemed a pyramid of faces. They were old, 
 young, fat, thin, red, pale, of every appear- 
 ance and every age ; they were mostly dis- 
 agreeable to look at, because their possessors 
 were men who had been unsuccessful, either 
 throuQ^h misfortune or throuo-h fault ; and 
 they all wore, as they stared, a look of de- 
 lighted curiosity, as if here was something, 
 indeed, to make Londoners talk — nothing 
 less, if you please, than a girl of seventeen, 
 just come up from the country.
 
 78 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' Bless us !' cried Mrs. Gambit, ^ are the 
 men gone mad ? London is a wicked 
 place indeed, when even clergymen come 
 trooping out merely to see a pretty girl ! 
 Fie for shame, sir, and be off with you !' 
 
 These last words were addressed to one old 
 clergyman with an immense wig, who was 
 actually thrusting his face through the coach 
 window. He drew it back, on this repri- 
 mand, and we went on our way. 
 
 I looked round once more. The young 
 woman of the counter was still in the door- 
 way, and with her William, with the scrubby 
 wig and the red nose ; round them were the 
 clergymen, and they Avere all talking about 
 me, and looking after me. Some of them 
 Avaofofed their heads, some shook theirs, some 
 nodded, some were holding their heads on 
 one side, and some were hanging theirs. 
 Some were lauo:hin<j, some smilingf, some 
 were grave. What did it mean ? 
 
 'If,' said Mrs. Gambit, ' they w^ere not 
 clergymen, I should say they were all tom- 
 fools. And this for a pretty girl — for you 
 are pretty, Miss Kitty, with your rosy cheeks 
 and the bright eyes which were never yet
 
 I/O IV KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 79 
 
 spoiled by the London smoke. Bat there 
 must be plenty other pretty girls in London. 
 And them to call themselves clergymen !' 
 
 ' Perhaps they were looking at you, Mrs. 
 Gambit.' 
 
 The idea did not seem to displease her. 
 She smiled, smoothed the folds of her gown, 
 and pulled down the ends of her neckerchief. 
 
 ' Five years ago, child, they might. But 
 I doubt it is too late. Set them up, indeed ! 
 As if nothing would suit them to look at 
 but the wife of a respectable builder's fore- 
 man. They must go into the country, must 
 thej, after the pretty faces '?' 
 
 But oh, the noise and tumult of the 
 streets ! For as we came to the west front 
 of St. Paul's, we found Ludgate Hill crowded 
 with such a throng as I had never before 
 believed possible. The chairmen jostled each 
 other up and down the way. The carts, 
 coaches, drays, barrows, waggons, trucks, 
 going up the hill, met those going down, and 
 there w^as such a crush of carriages, as, it 
 seemed, would never be cleared. All the 
 drivers were swearing at each other at the 
 top of their voices.
 
 8o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 * Shut your ears, child !' cried Mrs. Gambit. 
 But, immediately afterwards : ' There ! it's 
 no use ; they could be heard through my 
 grandfather's nightcap ! Oh, this London 
 wickedness !' 
 
 There are many kinds of wickedness in 
 London ; but the worst, as I have always 
 thought, because I have seen and heard so 
 much of it, is the great and terrible vice of 
 blasphemy and profane swearing, so that, if 
 you listen to the ragamuffin boys or to the 
 porters, or to the chair and coachmen, it 
 would seem as if it Avere impossible for them 
 to utter three words without two, at least, 
 being part of an oath. 
 
 Then some of the drivers foug^ht with each 
 other ; the people in the coaches looked out 
 of the Avindows — swore, if they were men ; if 
 they were ladies, they shrieked. Most of 
 those who were walking up and down the 
 hill took no manner of notice of the confu- 
 sion ; they pushed on their way, bearing 
 parcels and bundles, looking neither to the 
 right nor to the left, but straight in front, as 
 if they had not a moment to spare, and must 
 push on or lose their chance of fortune. Some
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 8i 
 
 there were, it is true, who lingered, looking at 
 the crush in the road and the men fighting ; 
 or, if they were women, stopping before the 
 shops, in the windows of which were hoods, 
 cardinals, sashes, pinners, and shawls, would 
 make the mouth of any girl to water only to 
 look at them. At the doors stood shopmen, 
 bravely habited in full-dressed wigs with 
 broad ribbon ties behind, who bowed and in- 
 vited the gazers to enter. And there were a 
 few who loitered as they went. These carried 
 their hats beneath their arms, and dangled 
 canes in their right hands. 
 
 There was plenty of time for us to notice all 
 that passed, because the block in the way took 
 fully half an hour to clear away. We were 
 delayed ten minutes of this time through the 
 obstinacy of a drayman, who, after exchanging 
 with a carter oaths Avhich clashed, and clanged, 
 and echoed in the air like the bombshells at the 
 siege of Mans, declared that he could not pos- 
 sibly go away satisfied until he had fought his 
 man. The mob willingly met his views, ap- 
 plauding so delicate a sense of honour. They 
 made a ring, and we presently heard the shouts 
 of those who encourag^ed the combatants, but 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 happily could not see them, by reason of the 
 press. Mrs. Gambit ^Yould fain have wit- 
 nessed the fight ; and, indeed, few country 
 people there are wdio do not love to see two 
 sturdy fellows thwack and belabour each other 
 with quarter-staff, single-stick, or fists. But 
 I was glad that we could not see the battle, 
 being, I hope, better taught. My father, in- 
 deed, and Lady Levett, were agreed that in 
 these things we English were little better than 
 the poor pagan Romans, who crowded to see 
 gladiators do battle to the death, or prisoners 
 fight till they fell, cruelly torn and mangled by 
 the lions ; and no better at all than the poor 
 Spanish papists who flock to a circus where 
 men fight with bulls. It is hard to think that 
 Homan gentlewomen and Spanish ladies would 
 go to see such sights, whatever men may do. 
 Yet in this eighteenth century, when we have 
 left behind us, as we flatter ourselves, the 
 Gothic barbarisms of our ancestors, we still run 
 after such cruelties and cruel sports as fights 
 with fists, sticks, or swords, baitings of bull, 
 bear, and badger, throwing stones at cocks, 
 killing of rats by dogs and ferrets, fights of 
 cocks, dogs, cats, and wdiatever other animals
 
 BOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 83 
 
 can be persuaded to fight and kill each 
 other. 
 
 When the fight was over, and one man 
 defeated — I know not which, but both were 
 horribly bruised and stained with blood — the 
 carts cleared away rapidly, and we were able 
 to 0:0 on. Is it not strangle to think that the 
 honour of such a common fellow should be 
 ' satisfied ' when he hath gotten black eyes, 
 bloody nose, and teeth knocked down his 
 throat '? 
 
 We got to the bottom of the hill, and 
 passed without further adventure through 
 the old gate of Lud, with its narrow arch 
 and the stately effigy of Queen Elizabeth 
 looking across the Fleet Bridge. Pity it is that 
 the old gate has since been removed. For my 
 own part, I think the monuments of old times 
 should be carefully guarded and kept, not 
 taken away to suit the convenience of dray- 
 men and coaches. What would Fleet Street 
 be without its bar ? or the Thames without 
 its river-Q^ates '? Outside, there was a broad 
 space before us. The Fleet river ran, filthy 
 and muddy, to the left, the road crossing it 
 bv a broad and handsome stone bridofe, where 
 
 6—2
 
 84 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 the way was impeded by the stalls of those 
 who sold hot furmety and medicines war- 
 ranted to cure every disease. On the right, 
 the Fleet had been recently covered in, and 
 was now built over with a long row of booths 
 and stalls. On either side the market were 
 rows of houses. 
 
 '■ Fleet Market,' said the driver, looking 
 round. ' Patience, young lady. Five minutes, 
 and we are there.' 
 
 There was another delay here of two or 
 three minutes. The crowd was denser, and 
 I saw among them two or three men with 
 eager faces, who wore white aprons, and ran 
 about whispering in the ears of people, espe- 
 cially of young people. I saw one couple, a 
 young man and a girl, whom they all, one 
 after the other, addressed, whispering, point- 
 ing, and inviting. The girl blushed and 
 turned away her head, and the young man, 
 though he marched on stoutl}", seemed not 
 ill pleased with their proposals. Presently 
 one of them came to our coach and put his 
 head in at the window. It was as impudent 
 and ugly a head as ever I saw. He squinted, 
 one eye rolling about by itself, as if having
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 85 
 
 quarrelled with the other ; he had had the 
 bridge of his nose crushed in some fight ; 
 some of his teeth stuck out like fanofs, but 
 most Avere broken ; his chin was bristly with 
 a three days' beard ; his voice was thick and 
 hoarse ; and when he began to speak, his 
 hearers began to think of rum. 
 
 ' Pity it is,' he said, ' that so pretty a pair 
 cannot find gallant husbands. Now, ladies, 
 if you will come with me I warrant that in 
 half an hour the doctor will bestow you upon 
 a couple of the young noblemen whom he 
 most always keeps in readiness.' 
 
 Here the driver roughly bade him begone 
 about his business for an ass, for the young 
 lady was on her way to the doctor's. At 
 this the fellow laughed and nodded his head. 
 
 'Aha!' he said, 'no doubt we shcill find the 
 gentleman waiting. Your ladyship will re- 
 member that I spoke to you first. The fees of 
 us messengers are but half-a-crown, even at 
 the doctor's, where alone the work is secure.' 
 
 ^ What means the fellow?' cried Mrs. Gam- 
 bit. ' What have we to do with gentlemen V 
 
 * All right, mother,' he replied, with 
 another lauofh. Then he mounted the door-
 
 86 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 step, and continued to talk while the coach 
 slowly made its way. 
 
 We were now driving along the city side 
 of the Fleet Market, that side on which 
 stands the prison. The market was crowded 
 with buyers and sellers, the smell of the 
 meat, the poultry, and the fruit, all together, 
 beino: strono- rather than delicate. 
 
 ' This/ said Mrs. Gambit, ' is not quite like 
 the smell of the honeysuckle in the Kentish 
 hedges.' 
 
 The houses on our right seemed to consist 
 of nothino^ but taverns, where sio-ns were 
 hoisted up before the doors. At the corner, 
 close to the ditch, was the Kainbow, and four 
 doors higher up was the Hand and Pen, next 
 to that the Bull and Garter, then another 
 Hand and Pen, then the Bishop Blaize, a third 
 Hand and Pen, the Fighting Cocks, and the 
 Naked Boy. One called the White Horse 
 had a verse written up under the sign : 
 
 * I\Iy White Horse shall beat the Eear, 
 
 And make the Angel fly ; 
 Turn the Ship with its bottom u^^ ; 
 And drink the Three Cups dry.' 
 
 But what was more remarkable was that 
 of the repetition in every window of a singular
 
 IlOJy KITTY FIEST SA IF THE DOCTOR. 87 
 
 announcement. Two hands were painted, or 
 drawn rudely, clasping each, other, and below 
 them was written, printed, or scrawled, some 
 such remarkable leo^end as the followino^ : 
 
 ' Weddings Performed Here.' 
 
 * A Church of England Clergyman always on the Premises. 
 
 ^ Weddings performed Cheap.' 
 
 ' The Only Safe House.' 
 
 ' The Old and True Eegister.' 
 
 ' Marriage by Church Service and Ordained Clergymen.' 
 
 ' Safety and Cheapness.' 
 
 ' The Licensed Clergyman of the Fleet.' 
 
 * Weddings by a late Chaplain to a Xobleman — one 
 
 familiar with the Quality.' 
 
 * No Imposition.' 
 
 '■ Not a Common Fleet Parson ;' 
 
 with other statements which puzzled me ex- 
 ceedingly. 
 
 ' You do well, ladies,' the man with us 
 w^ent on, talking with his head thrust into 
 the coach, * you do well to come to Doctor 
 Shovel, whose humble servant, or clerk, I am. 
 The doctor is no ordinary Fleet parson. He 
 does not belong to the beggarly gentry — 
 not regular clergymen at all — who live in a 
 tavern, and do odd jobs as they come, for a 
 guinea a week and the run of the landlord's
 
 88 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET ' 
 
 rum. Not he, madam. The doctor is a 
 ofentleman and a scholar : Master of Arts of 
 the University of Cambridge he was, where, 
 by reason of their great respect for his learn- 
 ing and piety, they have made him Doctor 
 of Divinity. There is the Rev. Mr. Ark- 
 well, who will read the service for you for 
 half-a-crown ; he was fined ^nq shillings last 
 week for drunkenness and profane swearing. 
 Would it be agreeable to your ladyship to be 
 turned off by such an impious rogue ? There 
 is the Rev. Mr. Wigmore will do it for 
 less, if you promise to lay out your wedding 
 money afterwards on what he calls his Nantz : 
 he hath twice been fined for selHng spirituous 
 drinks without a license. Who would trust her- 
 self to a man so regardless of his profession ? 
 Or the Rev. John Mottram — but there, your 
 ladyship would not like to have it read in a 
 prison. Now, at the doctor's is a snug room 
 with hassocks. There is, forsooth, the Rev. 
 Walter Wyatt, brother of him who keeps the 
 first Pen and Hand after you turn the corner ; 
 but sure, such a sweet young lady would scorn 
 to look for drink after the service ; or the Rov. 
 John Grierson, or Mr. Walker, or Mr. Alex-
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 89 
 
 ander Keith, will do it for what they can get, 
 ay ! even — it is reported — down to eighteen- 
 pence or a sliilling, with a sixpenny worth of 
 Geneva. But your ladyship must think of your 
 lines ; and where is your security against 
 treachery ? No, ladies. The doctor is the only 
 man ; a gentleman enjoying the liberties of 
 the Fleet, for which he hath given security ; a 
 Cambridge scholar; who receives at his lodg- 
 ing none but the quality : no less a fee than a 
 guinea, with half-a- crown for the clerk, ever 
 enters his house. The guinea, ladies, in- 
 cludes the five-shilling stamp, with the bless- 
 ing of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which 
 binds the happy pair like an act of parliament 
 or a piece of cobbler's wax. This cheapness 
 is certainly due to the benevolence and piety 
 of the doctor, who would be loth indeed to 
 place obstacles in the way of so Christian and 
 religious a ceremony.' 
 
 ' We have certainly,' cried Mrs. Gambit, in 
 dismay at such a flow of words, 'got into 
 Tom Fool's Land. This man is worse than 
 the parsons at the Coffee House.' 
 
 ' Now, ladies,' the fellow went on, throwing 
 the door wide open with a fling, and letting
 
 90 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 down llio stops, ' this is tho liouso. Look at 
 11, ladies !* 
 
 We got down niul stood looking- at it. 
 
 It was a \o\\ liouso ol* luoan apju^aranoo, 
 Iniilt in two storios ot' brick and tinibor, the 
 first tioor (>vorhaiigin^' ilio lower, as was the 
 tashiou until the presonl ooiufortablc and 
 liaudsoino nuuK^ oi' using stucco and ilat front 
 was adopted. The briek had been once 
 c'overetl with a cc^al of yellow wash, which 
 liad erunibled away over most ol' the front ; 
 ihe timber hail once boon painted, but the 
 l^iint liad lallen c'tV. The roof was gabled ; 
 like the rest oi the house, ii looked decaying 
 and neglected, "^^rhe w inflow ol' the xoowx 
 wliirli looked out tijion the street was broad, 
 but it was set with leaden iVames oi'the kind 
 called diamond, provided with the common 
 greenish glass ; every other })ane being those 
 llhck bullscye panes, which would stand a blow- 
 wit h a club without being brc^ken. I kittle 
 lii;ht woidd enter at that window but I'or \^\\<i 
 bright sun \\hich shone l\ill upon it: the 
 casement, however, was set c^pen tc) catch 
 the air. 
 
 As tor the air, that was hardlv worth
 
 HO W KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 91 
 
 catching, so foul was it with the fumes of the 
 market. Ptii>-ht in front of the door stoodaoTeat 
 heap of cabbage leaves, stalks, and vegetable 
 refuse, which sometimes was collected, put in 
 barrows and carted into the Fleet Ditch, but 
 sometimes remained for months. 
 
 ]\Irs. Gambitt sniffed disdainfully. 
 
 ' Give me Fore Street,' she said. ' There's 
 noise, if you ]ike, but no cabbage-stalks.' 
 
 ^ This, ladies,' said the man after a pause, 
 so that we might be overpowered with the 
 grandeur of the house ; ' this is no other than 
 the great Dr. Shovel's house. Here shall 
 you find a service as regular and as truly 
 ruad as if you were in the cathedral itself 
 Xot so much as an amen dropped. They do 
 say that the doctor is a private friend of the 
 dean, and hand-in-glove vrith the bishop. 
 This way. Your ladyship's box \ I will 
 carry it. This is the good doctor's door. 
 The clerk's fee half-a- crown; your ladyship 
 will not forget, unless the young gentleman, 
 which is most likely, should like to make 
 it half-a-guinea. I follow your ladyships. 
 Doubt not that, early as it is, his reverence 
 will be found up and ready for good works.'
 
 92 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 ' I believe/ said Mrs. Gambit, ' that this 
 man would talk the hind legs off a donkey. 
 Keep close to me, Miss Kitty. Here may 
 be villainy ; and if there is, there's one at 
 least that shall feel the weight of my ten 
 nails. Young man,' she addressed the fel- 
 low with sharpness, ' you let that box alone, 
 or if you carry it, go before; I trust 
 Londoners as far as I can see them, and no 
 farther.' 
 
 * Pray, ladies,' cried the man, 'have no 
 suspicion.' 
 
 ' It's all right,' said the coachman, grinning. 
 ' Lord ! I've brought them here by dozens. 
 Go in, madam. Go in, young lady.' 
 
 ' This way, ladies,' cried the man. ' The 
 doctor will see you within.' 
 
 'A clergyman,' continued Mrs. Gambit, 
 taking no manner of notice of these interrup- 
 tions, * may not always, no more than a 
 builder's foreman, choose where he would live. 
 And if his parish is the Fleet Market, among 
 the cabbages, as I suppose the doctor's is, or 
 about the Fleet Prison, among the miserable 
 debtors, as I suppose it may be, why he 
 must fain live here with the cabbao-e-stalks
 
 HO W KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 93 
 beneath his nose and make the best of 
 
 it; 
 
 ' Your ladyship,' the messenger went on, 
 addressing himself to me, ^ will shortly, no 
 doubt, be made happy. The gentleman, 
 however, hath not yet come. Pray step 
 within, ladies.' 
 
 ' You see, Miss Kitty,' said Mrs. Gambit, 
 pointing to the window, with a disdainful 
 look at this impertinent fellow, ' this is cer- 
 tainly the house. So far, therefore, we are safe.' 
 
 In the window there hung a card, on which 
 was written in large characters, so that all 
 might read : 
 
 EEVEREXD GEEGOEY SHOVEL, 
 
 Doctor of Divinity. 
 Formerly of Cambridge Uxiversity. 
 
 Now, without any reason, I immediately 
 connected this announcement with those 
 curious advertisements I had seen in the 
 tavern windows. And yet, what could my 
 uncle have to do with marrying ? And what
 
 94 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 did the man mean by his long rigmarole and 
 nonsense about the Reverend This and the 
 Reverend That ? 
 
 However, Mrs. Gambit led the way, and I 
 followed. 
 
 The messenger pushed a door open, and we 
 found ourselves in a low room lit by the broad 
 window with the diamond panes of which I 
 have spoken. The air in the room was close, 
 and smelt of tobacco and rum : the floor was 
 sanded : the wainscoting of the walls was broken 
 in places ; walls, floors, and ceiling were all 
 alike unwashed and dirty : the only furniture 
 w^as a table, half-a-dozen cushions or hassocks, 
 and one great chair with arms and back of 
 carved wood. On the table was a laro^e 
 volume. It was the Prayer - book of the 
 Established Church of England and Ireland, 
 and it was lying open, I could plainly see, at 
 the Marriag^e Service. 
 
 At the head of the table, a reflection of 
 the sunlight from the window falling full 
 upon his face, sat a man of middle- age, about 
 fifty-five years or so, who rose when we came 
 in, and bowed with great gravity. Could 
 this be my uncle ?
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 95 
 
 He was a very big and stout man — one of 
 the biggest men I have ever seen. He was 
 clad in a rich silk gown, flowing loosely and 
 freely about him, white bands, clean and 
 freshly starched, and a very full wig. He 
 had the reddest face possible : it was of a 
 deep crimson colour, tinged Avith purple, and 
 the colour extended even to the ears, and the 
 neck — so much of it as could be seen — was as 
 crimson as the cheeks. He had a full nose, long 
 and broad, a nose of great strength and very 
 deep in colour ; but his eyes, which were large, 
 reminded me of that verse in the Psalms, 
 wherein the divine poet speaks of those Avhose 
 eyes swell out Avith fatness ; his lips were gross 
 and protruded ; he had a large scjuare fore- 
 head and a great amplitude of cheek. He 
 was broad in the shoulders, deep-chested and 
 portly — a man of great presence ; Avhen he 
 stood upright he not only seemed almost to 
 touch the ceiling, but also to fill up the 
 breadth of the room. My heart sank as I 
 looked at him ; for he Avas not the manner 
 of man I expected, and I Avas afraid. Where 
 were the outAvard signs and tokens of that 
 piety AAdiich iny father had led me to expect
 
 96 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 in my uncle ? I had looked for a gentle 
 scholar, a grave and thoughtful bearing. 
 But, even to my inexperienced eyes, the 
 confident carriage of the doctor appeared 
 bragfo^art : the roll of his eyes Avhen we 
 entered the room could not be taken even 
 by a simple country girl for the grave contem- 
 plation of a humble and fervent Christian : 
 the smell of the room was inconsistent with 
 the thouofht of reliofious meditation : there 
 were no books or papers, or any other outward 
 signs of scholarship ; and even the presence 
 of the Prayer-book on the table, with the 
 hassocks, seemed a mockery of sacred things. 
 
 ' So, good Koger,' he said in a voice loud 
 and sonorous, yet musical as the great bell of 
 St. Paul's, so deep was it and full — SSo, gooa 
 Poger, whom have we liere '?' 
 
 ' A young lady, sir, whom I had the good 
 fortune to meet on Ludgate Hill. She was 
 on her way to your reverence's, to ask your 
 good offices. She is — ahem ! — fully acquainted 
 with the customary fees of the Establish- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' That is well,' he replied. * My dear young 
 lady, I am fortunate in being the humble
 
 HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 97 
 
 instrument of makino- so sweet a creature 
 happy. But I do not see ... in fact . . . 
 the other party.' 
 
 ' The young lady expects the gentleman 
 every minute/ said the excellent Roger. 
 
 ' Oh !' cried Mrs. Gambit, * the man is stark 
 mad — staring mad !' 
 
 ' Sir/ I faltered — ^ here is, I fear, some 
 mistake.' 
 
 He waved both of his hands with a ges- 
 ture reassuring and grand. 
 
 ' No mistake, madam, at all. I am that 
 Dr. Shovel before whom the smaller pre- 
 tenders in these Liberties give place and 
 hide diminished heads. If by any unlucky 
 accident your lover has fallen a prey to some 
 of those (self-styled) clerical gentry, who are 
 in fact impostors and sharpers, we will 
 speedily rescue him from their talons. De- 
 scribe the gentleman, madam, and my 
 messeno'er shall p'o and seek him at the 
 Pen and Hand, or at some other notorious 
 place.' 
 
 The clerk, meanwhile, had placed himself 
 beside his master, and now produced a greasy 
 Prayer-book, with the aid of which I suppose 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 he meant to give the responses of the Church. 
 At the mention of the word ' mistake ' a look 
 of doubt and anxiety crossed his face. 
 
 ^ There is, indeed, some mistake, sir/ I 
 repeated. * My errand here is not of the 
 kind you think.' 
 
 * Then, madam, your business with me 
 must be strange indeed. Sirrah !' he ad- 
 dressed his clerk, in a voice of thunder, 
 ' hast thou been playing the fool % What 
 was it this young lady sought of you '?' 
 
 * Oh, sir ! this good person is not to blame, 
 perhaps. Are you indeed the Rev. Gregory 
 Shovel, Doctor of Divinity ?' 
 
 * No other, madam.' He spread out both 
 his arms, proudly lifting his gown, so that he 
 really seemed to cover the whole end of the 
 room. ^ No other : I assure you I am Dr. 
 Gregory Shovel, known and beloved by 
 many a happy pair.' 
 
 ^ And the brother-in-law of the late Reve- 
 rend Lawrence Pleydell, late vicar of ' 
 
 He interrupted me. ' Late vicar ? Is, then, 
 my brother-in-law dead ? or have they, which 
 is a thing incredible, conferred preferment 
 upon sheer piety ?'
 
 HO W KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 99 
 
 ' Alas ! sir/ I cried, with tears, ' my father 
 is dead.' 
 
 ' Thy father, child !' 
 
 * Yes, sir ; I am Kitty Pleydell, at your 
 service.' 
 
 * Kitty Pleydell I' He bent over me across 
 the table, and looked into my face not un- 
 kindly. ^ My sister's child I then how ' 
 
 He turned upon his clerk, who now stood wdth 
 staring eyes and open mouth, chap-fallen and 
 terrified. ' Fool !' he thundered. ' Get thee 
 packing, lest I do thee a mischief T 
 
 7—2
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW KITTY WITNESSED A FLEET WEDDING. 
 
 Then I pulled out my father's letter, and 
 gave it to him to read. 
 
 He took it, read it carefully, nodding 
 gravely over each sentence, and then re- 
 turned it to me. 
 
 * Lawrence, then,' he said softly, ^ Lawrence 
 is dead ! Lawrence Pleydell is dead ! And 
 I am living. Lawrence ! He hath, without 
 reasonable doubt, passed away in full assur- 
 ance. He hath exchano^ed this world for a 
 better. He hath gone to happiness. Nay, if 
 such as he die not in faith, what hope re- 
 mains for such sinners as ourselves ? Then 
 would it be better for those who dwell in the 
 Liberties of the Fleet if they had never been 
 born. So. My sister's child. Hold up thy
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. loi 
 
 face, my dear/ He kissed me as he spoke, 
 and held his hand under my chin so that he 
 could look at me well. ' There is more 
 Pleydell than Shovel here. That is well, 
 because the Pley dells are of gentle blood. 
 And the daughter doth ever favour the 
 father more than the mother. Favour him 
 in thy life, child, as well as in thy features. 
 
 * Lawrence is dead !' he went on. * The 
 gentlest soul, the most pious and religious 
 creature that the world has ever seen. He, 
 for one, could think upon his Maker without 
 the terror of a rebellious and prodigal son. 
 The world and the flesh had no temptations 
 for him. A good man, indeed. It is long 
 since I saw him, and he knew not where I 
 live, nor how. Yet he, who knew me when 
 I was vounof, trusted still in me — whom no 
 one else will trust. This it is to start in life 
 with goodly promise of virtue, scholarship, 
 and religion.' 
 
 He cleared his throat, and was silent 
 awhile. 
 
 ' Thy father did well, child. I will treat 
 thee as my own daughter. Yet I know not, 
 indeed, where to bestow thee, for this house
 
 102 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 is not fit for girls, and I have none other. 
 Still, I would fain take thy father's place, so 
 far as in me lies. He, good man, lived in the 
 country, where virtue, like fresh butter and 
 new-laid eggs, flourishes easily and at the 
 cost of a little husbandry in the wa}^ of 
 prayer and meditation. As for us who live 
 in great cities, and especially in the Rules 
 or Liberties of the Fleet, we may say with 
 the Psalmist, having examples to the con- 
 trary continually before us, with temptations 
 such as dwellers in the fields wot not of, 
 '* He that keepeth the Law, happy is he !" 
 I have neither wife nor child to greet thee, 
 Kitty. I must bestow thee somewhere. 
 What shall we do ?' 
 
 He paused to think. 
 
 ' I might find a lodging but no, that 
 
 would not do. Or in but the house is 
 
 full of men. There is the clerk of St. 
 Sepulchre's, whose wife would take thee ; 
 but the rector bears me a heavy grudge. 
 Ho ! ho !' he laughed low down in his chest. 
 ' There is not a parish round London, from 
 Limehouse to Westminster, and from South- 
 wark to Highgate, where the niece of Dr.
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 103 
 
 Shovel would not find herself flouted, out of 
 the sing^ular hatred which the clero-y bear to 
 me. For I undersell them all. And if they 
 pass an Act to prevent my marrying, 
 then will I bury for nothinn^ and undersell 
 them still. Well, I must take order in this 
 matter. And who are you, my good woman V 
 He asked this of Mrs. Gambit. 
 
 ^ Jane Gambit, sir,' she replied, * at your 
 service, and the wife of Samuel Gambit, 
 foreman of works. And my charge is not 
 to leave Miss Kitty until she is safe in your 
 reverence's hands. There are the hands, 
 
 to be sure ; but as for safety ' She 
 
 paused, and sniffed violently, looking round 
 the room with a meaning^ air. 
 
 ^ Why, woman, you would not think the 
 child in danger with me V 
 
 ' I know not, sir. But Miss Kitty has 
 been brought up among gentlefolk, and the 
 room is not one to which she has been accus- 
 tomed to live in, or to eat in, or to sleep in, 
 either at the Vicarage or the Hall. Tobacco 
 and the smell of rum may be very well — in 
 their place, which, I humbly submit, is in a 
 tavern, not a gentlewoman's parlour.'
 
 104 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ^ The woman speaks reason,' lie grovvled^ 
 laying his great hand upon the table. ' See, 
 my dear, my brother-in-law thought me 
 holding a rich benefice in the Church. Those 
 get rich benefices who have rich friends and 
 patrons. I had none ; therefore I hold no- 
 benefice. And as for my residence, why, 
 truly, I have little choice except between 
 this place and the Fleet Prison, or perhaps 
 the King's Bench. Else might I welcome 
 thee in a better and more convenient lodging. 
 Know, therefore, Kitty, without any con- 
 cealment, that I live here secluded in the 
 Liberties of the Fleet in order that my 
 creditors, of whom I have as many as most 
 men and more importunate, may no longer 
 molest me when I take my walks abroad ; 
 that I am in this place outside the authority 
 of the bishop ; and that my occupation is to 
 marry, with all safety and despatch, without 
 license, or asking of banns, or any of the 
 usual delays, those good people Avho wish 
 to be married secretly and quickly, and can 
 afford at least one guinea fee for the cere- 
 mony.' 
 
 I stared in amazement. To be sure, every
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 105 
 
 clergyman can marry, but for a clergy- 
 man to do naught else seemed strange 
 indeed. 
 
 He saw my amazement ; and, drawing his 
 tall and burly figure upright, he began to 
 deliver an oration — I call it an oration, 
 because he so puffed his cheeks, rolled his 
 sentences, and swelled himself out while he 
 spoke, that it was more like a sermon or 
 oration than a mere speech. In it he seemed 
 to be trying at once to justify himself in my 
 eyes, to assert his own self-respect, and to 
 magnify his office. 
 
 ' It is not likely, child,' he said, ' that thou 
 hast been told of these marriages in the 
 Fleet. Know, therefore, that in this asylum, 
 called the Rules of the Fleet, where debtors 
 find some semblance of freedom and creditors 
 cease to dun, there has grown up a custom of 
 late years by which marriages are here 
 rapidly performed (for the good of the 
 country), which the beneficed clergy would 
 not undertake without great expense, trouble, 
 delay, and the vexation of getting parents' and 
 guardians' consent, to say nothing of the prodi- 
 gality and wasteful expense of feasting which
 
 ic6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 follows what is called a regular marriage. 
 Therefore, finding myself some years ago 
 comfortably settled in the place, after con- 
 tracting a greater debt than is usually possible 
 for an unbeneficed clergyman, I undertook 
 this trade, which is lucrative, honourable, 
 and easy. There are indeed/ he added, 
 ^ both in the Prison and the Rules, but more 
 especially the latter, many Fleet parsons ' — 
 here he rolled his great head with compla- 
 cency — ^ but none, my child, so great and 
 celebrated as myself Some, indeed, are 
 mere common cheats, whose marriages — call 
 them, rather, sacrilegious impostures — are 
 not worth the paper of their pretended certi- 
 ficates. Some are perhaps what they pro- 
 fess to be, regularly ordained clergymen of 
 the Church of England and Ireland as by 
 law established, the supreme head of which 
 is his gracious Majesty. But even these are 
 tipplers, and beggars, and paupers — men who 
 drink gin of an evening and small beer in 
 the morning, whose gowns are as ragged as 
 their reputations, and who take their fees in 
 shillings, with a dram thrown in, and herd 
 with the common offscourings of the town.
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 107 
 
 whom they marry. Illiterate, too : not a 
 Greek verse or a Latin hexameter amonof 
 them all. Go not into the company of such, 
 lest thou be corrupted by then' talk. In the 
 words of Kmo^ Lemuel : '^ Let them drink 
 and forget their poverty, and remember their 
 misery no more." ' Here he paused and ad- 
 justed his gown, as if he were in a pulpit. 
 Indeed, for the moment, he imagined, 
 perhaps, that he was preaching. ' As for 
 me, Gregory Shovel, my marriages are what 
 they pretend to be, as tight as any of the 
 archbishop's own tying, conducted with due 
 decorum by a member of the University of 
 Cambridge, a man whose orders are beyond 
 dispute, whose histor}^ is known to all, an 
 approved and honoured scholar. Yes, my 
 niece, behold in me one who has borne off 
 University and College medals for Latin 
 verse. My Latin verses, wherein I have 
 been said to touch Horace, and even to excel 
 Ovid, whether in the tender elegiac, the 
 stately alcaic, the melting sapphic, or the 
 easy-flowing hendecasyllabic loved of Mar- 
 tial, have conferred upon my head the bays 
 of fame. Other Fleet parsons'? Let them
 
 io8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 hide their iojnorant heads in their second- 
 hand perruques ! By the thunders of 
 Jupiter!' — his powerful voice rose and 
 rolled about the room like the thunder by 
 which he swore — ' By the thunders of 
 Jupiter, I am their Bishop ! Let them 
 acknowledge that I, and I alone, am The 
 Chaplain of the Fleet I' 
 
 During this sj)eech he swelled himself out 
 so enormously^ and so flourished his long 
 gown, that he seemed to fill the whole room. 
 I shrank into a corner, and clasped Mrs. 
 Gambit's hand. 
 
 This kind of terror I have always felt 
 since, whenever, which is rare, I have heard 
 a man speak in such a full, rich, manliness of 
 voice. It was a voice with Avhich he might 
 have led thousands to follow him and do his 
 bidding. When 1 read of any great orator 
 at whose speeches the people went mad, so 
 that they did what he told them were it but 
 to rush along the road to certain death, I 
 think of the Beverend Dr. Shovel. I am 
 sure that Peter the Hermit, or St. Bernard, 
 must have had such a voice. While he spoke, 
 though the words were not noble, the air was 
 

 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 109 
 
 such, the voice was such, the eloquence was 
 such, that my senses were carried away, and 
 I felt that in the hands of such a man no 
 one was master of himself His demeanour 
 was so majestic, that even the shabby, dirty 
 room in which he spoke became for the time 
 a temple fit for the sacred rites conducted by 
 so great and good a man : the noise of carts, 
 the voices of men and women, were drowned 
 and stilled beneath the rolling music of his 
 voice. I was rapt and astonished and terrified. 
 Mrs. Gambit was so far impressed when 
 the doctor began this oration, that she in- 
 stantly assumed that attitude of mind and 
 body in which country people always listen 
 to a sermon : that is to say, she stood with 
 her chin up, her eyes fixed on the ceiling 
 (fie I how black it was !)^ her hands crossed, 
 and her thoughts wandering freely whither- 
 soever they listed. It is a practice which 
 sometimes produces good effects, save when 
 the preacher, which is seldom, hath in his 
 own mind a clear message to deliver from 
 the Kevealed Word. For it prevents a con- 
 gregation from discerning the poverty of the 
 discourse; and in these latter days of Whit-
 
 no THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 field, Wesley, and the sad schisms which 
 daily we witness, it checks the progress of 
 Dissent. 
 
 The doctor, after a short pause, swept back 
 his flowing goAvn wnth a significant gesture of 
 his left hand, and resumed the defence or 
 apology for his profession. It was remark- 
 able that he spoke as earnestly, and with as 
 much force, eloquence, and justness in this 
 address to two women — or to one and a half, 
 because Mrs. Gambit, thinking herself in 
 church, Avas only half a listener^as if he had 
 been addressing a great congregation beneath 
 the vast dome of St. Paul's. The doctor, I 
 afterwards found, was always great ; no mean 
 or little ways were his : he lived, he spoke, 
 he moved, he thought like a bishop. Had 
 he been actually a bishop, I am sure that his 
 stateliness, dignity, and pomp would have 
 been worthy of that exalted position, and that 
 he would have graced the bench by the ex- 
 hibition of every Christian virtue, except 
 perhaps that of meekness. For the doctor 
 was never meek. 
 
 ' Let us,' said the doctor, ^ argue the ques- 
 tion. What is there contrary to the Bubric
 
 A FLEET V/EDDING. iii 
 
 in my calling ? The Church hath wisely 
 ordered that marriaofe is a state to be entered 
 upon only after sanctification by her ministers 
 or priests ; I am one of those ministers. 
 She hath provided and strictly enjoined a 
 rule of service ; I read that service. She hath 
 recommended the faithful to marry as if to 
 enter a holy and blessed condition of life ; I 
 encourage and exhort the people to come to 
 me with the design of obeying the Church 
 and entering upon that condition. She hath, 
 in deference to the laws of the land, required 
 a stamped certificate (at five shillings) ; I 
 find that certificate in obedience to the law. 
 Further, for the credit of the cloth, and 
 because people must not think the ministers 
 of the Church to be, like common hackney 
 coachmen, messengers, running lacke^^s, and 
 such varlets, at the beck and call of every 
 prentice boy and ragamuffin wench v/ith a 
 yard-measure and a dishclout for all their 
 fortune ; and because, further, it is well to 
 remind people of thrift, especially this common 
 people of London, who are grievously given 
 to waste, prodigality, gluttony, fine clothes, 
 drinkino;, and all such extravaaaaii^S^fi^y, 
 
 fuiNOlS LIBRARY^; 
 M URBANA-CHAWIPAIGN
 
 112 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 how except by thrift will they find money to 
 pay their lawful tithes to Mother Church ?-;- 
 wherefore it is my custom — nay, my undevi- 
 ating rule — to charge a fee of one guinea at 
 least for every pair, with half-a-crown for the 
 services of the clerk. More may be given ; 
 more, I say, is generally given by those who 
 have money in pocket, and generous, grateful 
 hearts. What, indeed, is a present of ten 
 guineas in return for such services as mine % 
 Child, know that I am a public benefactor ; 
 behold in me one who promotes the happiness 
 of his species ; but for me maids would 
 languish, lovers groan, and cruel guardians 
 triumph. I ask not if there be any impedi- 
 ment ; I inquire not if there be some to forbid 
 the banns ; I do not concern myself with the 
 lover s rent-roll ; I care not what his profes- 
 sion — T have even married a lady to her foot- 
 man, since she desired it, and a nobleman to 
 his cook, since that was his lordship's will. I 
 ask not for consent of parents ; the maiden 
 leaves my doors a wife : when she goes home, 
 no parents or guardians can undo the knot 
 that I have tied. Doctors, learned in the- 
 ology, casuistry, science, and philosophy, have
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 113 
 
 been called by divers names ; there have been 
 the Subtle Doctor, the Golden Doctor, the 
 Eloquent Doctor. For me there has been 
 reserved the title of the Benevolent Doctor ; 
 of me let it be said that he loved even beyond 
 his respect towards his diocesan, even beyond 
 obedience to his ecclesiastical superiors, even 
 beyond consideration to the parish clergy, 
 who by his means were deprived of their fees, 
 the happiness of his fellow men and women.' 
 
 His voice had dropped to the lower notes, 
 and his last words were spoken in deep but 
 gentle thunder. When he had finished, Mrs. 
 Gambit dropped her chin and returned to 
 practical business. 
 
 ' And pray, sir, what will Miss Kitty do V 
 
 Recalled to the facts of the case, the 
 doctor paused. His cheeks retracted, his 
 breadth and height became perceptibly 
 smaller. 
 
 ' What will she do ? That is, indeed, a 
 difficulty.' 
 
 * If,' said Mrs. Gambit, ^ your honour is a 
 prisoner ' 
 
 ' Woman !' he roared, ' I enjoy the Liberties 
 of the Fleet — the Liberties, do you hear ? 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Prate not to me of prisoners. Ts Dr. Shovel 
 a man, think ye, to clap in a prison X 
 
 ' Well, then, is Miss Kitty to live here V 
 She looked round in disgust. ' Why, what a 
 place is this for a young lady virtuously and 
 godly reared ? Your ceiling is black with 
 smoke ; the windows are black with dirt ; 
 the walls are streaked with dirt ; the floor is 
 as thick with mud as the road — faugh ! If 
 your honour is a bishop, as you say you are, 
 you can doubtless put the poor young lady, 
 who is used to sweet air and clean floors, 
 where she will get such — and that without 
 profane swearing.' 
 
 The last remark was caused by language 
 used at that moment outside the window by 
 a man wheeling: a barrow full of cabbao^es, 
 which upset. While picking up the vege- 
 tables, he swore loudly, administering rebuke 
 in a couple of oaths at least, and in some 
 cases more, to every head of cabbage in turn. 
 An unreflecting wretch indeed, to break a 
 commandment upon a senseless vegetable I 
 
 ' Nay/ I said, ' my uncle will do what is 
 best for me.' 
 
 ' I will do for thee,' he said, ' what 1 can.
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 115 
 
 This place is not fit for a young girl. All 
 the morning it is wanted for my occupation. 
 In the evening I am visited by gentlemen 
 who seek me for certain merits, graces or 
 l)eauties of conversation in which I am said 
 (although I boast not) to be endowed with 
 gifts beyond those allotted to most men. No, 
 child, thou must not stay here.' 
 
 While we stood w^aiting for his decision, we 
 became aware of a most dreadful noise out- 
 side. Men w^ere shouting, women were 
 screaming ; of course bad language and 
 cursing formed a large part of what was 
 said. The air about the Fleet was alwavs 
 heavy with oaths, so that at last the ear 
 grew accustomed to them, and we noticed 
 them no more than in the quiet fields one 
 notices the buzzing of the insects. But these 
 people, whoever they were, congregated out- 
 side the door of the house ; and after more 
 oaths and loud talk, the door was opened and 
 they all tramped noisily into the room — a 
 party of men and women, twelve in all — and 
 drew up in some sort of order, every man 
 leading a woman by the hand. As for the 
 men, though I had never seen the sea, I knew 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 at once that monsters so uncouth and rouofh 
 could be none other than sailors. They were 
 all dressed alike, and wore blue jackets with 
 flannel shirts and coloured silk neckties ; 
 every man carried round his waist a rope, at 
 the end of which was a knife ; they wore 
 three-cornered hats without lace or any kind 
 of trimming ; they had no wigs, but wore 
 their own hair plastered with tallow, rolled 
 up tightly and tied behind ; and one bore a 
 great and grisly beard most terrible to behold. 
 Great boots covered their feet ; their hands 
 were smeared with tar ; their faces were 
 weather-beaten, being burnt by the sun and 
 blown by the breeze ; their e3^es were clear 
 and bright, but their cheeks were bruised as 
 if they had been fighting : they were all 
 laughing, and their countenances betokened 
 the greatest satisfaction with everything. As 
 for the women, they were young, and some of 
 them, I suppose, were handsome, but they 
 looked bold and rough. They were veiy 
 finely dressed, their frocks being of silk and 
 satin, with flowered shawls, and hats of a 
 grandeur I had never before seen ; immense 
 hoops and great patches. But the fight out-
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 117 
 
 side had torn their finery, and more than one 
 nymph had a black eye. However, these 
 accidents had not diminished the general joy, 
 and they were laughing with the mem 
 
 ' Why — why !' roared the doctor, as he 
 called them to attention by banging the table 
 with his fist, so that the windows rattled, the 
 women shrieked, and the plaster fell from the 
 wall. ' What is this ? Who are ye ?' 
 
 The impudent fellow with the white apron 
 who had brought us to the place, here stepped 
 in, bringing with him another couple. He, 
 too, had been fighting, for his face was bleed- 
 ing and bruised. Fighting, I presently found, 
 was too common in Fleet Market to call for 
 any notice. 
 
 ' What is this, Koger V repeated the doctor. 
 'These tarpaulins are no cattle for my 
 handling. Let them go to the Pen and 
 Hand, or some other pigsty where they can 
 be irregularly and illegally married for 
 eighteenpence and a glass of rum.' 
 
 'Please your reverence,' said Roger, 
 handling his nose, which was swollen, 
 tenderly, 'they are honest gentlemen of 
 the sea, paid off at Wapping but yester
 
 ii8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 niglit, still ill their sea-going clothes by 
 reason of their having as yet no time to 
 buy long-shore rigging ; not common sailors, 
 but mates by rating in the ship's books, and 
 anxious to be married by none other than 
 3^our reverence/ 
 
 ' Ay — ay ! honest Roger.' The doctor's 
 voice dropped and became soft and en- 
 couraging. ' Ay — ay ! this is as it should 
 be. Know they of the fee X 
 
 ^ They wish me to offer your reverence/ 
 said the clerk, ' a guinea apiece, and five 
 guineas extra for your honour's trouble, if so 
 be so small a gift is worth your acceptance ; 
 with half-a-crown apiece for the clerk, and 
 a guinea for his nose, which I verily believe is 
 broken in the bridge. I have had great 
 trouble, your reverence, in conveying so 
 large a party safe. And indeed I thought, 
 at one time, the Rev. Mr. Ashwell would 
 have had them all. But the gallant gentle- 
 men knew what was best for them ; and so, 
 your honour, with a nose ' 
 
 The doctor shook his head and interrupted 
 any further explanation. 
 
 * That would indeed have been a misfortune
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. ^ 119 
 
 for these brave fellows. Come, Roger, collect 
 the fees, and to business with what speed we 
 may.' 
 
 ' Now then,' said Roger, roughly, * money 
 first, business afterwards. No fee, no mar- 
 riage. Pay up, my lads !' 
 
 The men lugged out handfuls of gold from 
 their pockets, and paid without hesitation 
 what they were told. But the women 
 grumbled, saying that for half-a-crown and 
 a dram they would have been married quite 
 as well, and so much more to spend. When 
 the doctor had put the fees in his pocket, he 
 advanced to the table and took up the 
 Prayer-book. What would my father have 
 said had he witnessed this sight '{ 
 
 Then Poger pulled out his greasy book, 
 and put himself in place ready to say the 
 responses. All being ready, the doctor again 
 banged the table with his fist so that they 
 all jumped, and the women screamed again, 
 and more plaster fell off the wall. 
 
 ' Now, all of you !' he roared, ' listen to 
 me. The first man who interrupts, the first 
 woman who laughs, the first who giggles, 
 the first who dares to misbehave or to bring
 
 T20 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 contempt on this religious ceremony, I will 
 with my own clerical hands pitch headfore- 
 most into the street. And lie shall remain 
 unmarried !* 
 
 Whether they were awed by his great 
 voice and terrible aspect, the men being 
 short of stature as all sailors seem to be, or 
 whether they feared to be pitched through 
 the window, or w^hether they trembled at the 
 prospect of remaining unmarried (perhaps for 
 life) if the doctor refused to perform the 
 ceremony, I know not. What is quite 
 certain is that they one and all, men and 
 women, became suddenly as mute as mice, 
 and perfectly obedient to the commands of 
 Koger the clerk, who told them where to 
 stand, when to kneel, what to say, and what 
 to do. A curtain ring acted as wedding-ring 
 for all. 
 
 The doctor would omit nothing from the 
 service, which he read from beginning to 
 end in his loud musical voice. When he had 
 married the whole six, he shut the Prayer- 
 book, produced six stamped certificates, 
 rapidly filled in the names and dates, which 
 he also entered in his ' Register,' a great book
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 121 
 
 with parchment cover. Koger acted as wit- 
 ness. Then the brides were presented by • 
 the doctor with the certificates of their mar- 
 riage. The ceremony lasted altogether about 
 half-an-hour. 
 
 * You are now, ladies and gentlemen/ he 
 said, smiling pleasantly, ' married fast and 
 firm, one to the other. I congratulate you. 
 Marriao^e in the case of sailors and sailors' 
 wives is a condition of peculiar happiness, as 
 you will all of you presently discover. The 
 husband, at the outset, is liable for the debts 
 of his wife' — here the men looked sheepishly 
 at each other — ' this no doubt will be brought 
 home to all of you. There are several brave 
 gentlemen of the sea now languishing in the 
 Fleet Prison through inability to pay off 
 these encumbrances. They will continue to 
 lie there for the whole term of their lives, 
 these unfortunate men. Husbands are also 
 liable for the debts incurred by theh* wives 
 while they are abroad ' — here one or two of 
 the men murmured something about London 
 Port and giving it a wide berth, which I did 
 not understand. ' As for the wives of sea- 
 faring men, their blessings and privileges arc
 
 122 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 also peculiar and numerous. They will have 
 to remain at home and pray for the safety of 
 the husbands whom they will see perhaps 
 once every five years or so : they will, in this 
 widowed state, be able to practise many 
 Christian virtues which those who enjoy the 
 constant presence of a husband are less 
 often called upon to illustrate : such are 
 patience under privation, resignation, and 
 hope. Most of them will find the allowance 
 made to them by their husbands insufficient 
 or irregularly paid. If any of them marry 
 again, or be already married, it is, let me tell 
 you, a hanging matter. Yea, there are 
 already in Newgate hard by, several un- 
 fortunate women cast for execution who have 
 married again while their husbands were at 
 sea. Lying in the cells they are, waiting 
 for the cart and the gallows I" Here the 
 women looked at one another and trembled, 
 while their cheeks grew pale. '' It is too late 
 now. Should there be any woman here who 
 has committed the crime of bigamy, let that 
 woman know that it is too late for aught but 
 repentance. The gallows awaits her. You 
 are now therefore, my friends, bound to each
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 123 
 
 other. I trust and hope that these marriages 
 have not been hastily or lightly entered upon. 
 You have heard the duties of husband to 
 wife and wife to husband, in the words of the 
 service duly read to you by a clergyman of 
 the Church of England. Go now, perform 
 those duties : be bright and shining examples 
 of temperance, fidelity, and virtue. Should 
 any man among you find that his marriage 
 hath led him, through such a cause as I have 
 indicated, to the King's Bench, or the Fleet, 
 or the Compter ; should he have to exchange, 
 against his will, the free air of the sea for the 
 confinement of a gaol, and the rolling deck 
 for the narrow courtyard ; should he see him- 
 self reduced (having never learned any handi- 
 craft or trade) to starvation through these 
 liabilities of his wife, or should any woman 
 among you have hereafter to stand her trial 
 for bigamy either for this work newly ac- 
 complished or for any future crime of the 
 same nature, it will then be your comfort to 
 reflect that you were not married by an 
 irregular, self-constituted, self-styled Fleet 
 parson, but by an ordained clergyman and a 
 Doctor of Divinity. Wherefore, I wish you
 
 124 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 well. Now go, less noisily than you came. 
 But the noise I impute to your ignorance, as 
 not knowing the quality of the man into 
 whose presence you so rudely pushed. As 
 for the marriage feast, see that you enjoy it 
 in moderation. Above all, let your liquors 
 be good. To which end — I speak it purely 
 out of my benevolence and for the good of 
 head and stomach — you will find the rum at 
 the Bishop Blaize cheap and wholesome. 
 Be not tempted to prefer the Rainbow or 
 the Naked Boy, where the liquor is deplorable; 
 and perhaps, in an hour or so, I may look in 
 and drink your healths. Boger, turn them 
 out.' 
 
 They went away sheepish and crestfallen, 
 who had come noisy and triumphant. I 
 was ashamed, thinking of my father, and 
 yet lost in wonder, looking at my uncle who 
 had so easily tamed this savage crew. 
 
 * I am glad/ said the doctor, when they 
 had gone, ' that this chance did not become 
 the windfall of an irresfular and unlicensed 
 practitioner. They cannot say that I warned 
 them not. Well, let them have their way. 
 A few days more and the men will be afloat
 
 A FLEET WEDDING, 125 
 
 again, all their money gone ; and the 
 women ' 
 
 ' Will they starve, sir X I asked. 
 
 ' I doubt it much,' he replied. ' Come, 
 child, I have thought of a plan for thee. 
 Follow me. And you, good woman, come 
 with us that you may see your charge in 
 safety.' 
 
 The thing that I had seen was like a 
 dream — the appearance of the disorderly 
 sailors and the women whom they married ; 
 the words of the service read solemnly in 
 this unhallowed room ; the exaction of the 
 money beforehand ; the bleeding faces and 
 marks of the recent fight ; the exhortation of 
 the doctor ; the disappearance of the actors ; 
 the swollen nose, black eye, and the im- 
 portance of the clerk reading the responses 
 — what strange place was this whereunto I 
 had been led ? One pitied, too, the poor 
 fellows on whom Fate had bestowed such 
 wives. I thought, child as I was, how 
 terrible must be life encumbered with such 
 women ! Womanlike, I was harder on the 
 women than the men. Yet truly, women 
 are what men make them.
 
 126 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 * Follow me, child.' 
 
 He led us out of the house, turning to the 
 right. In the market was a lot of country 
 people who were standing about a stall. And 
 we heard a voice : ' There's the doctor — there 
 goes the great Dr. Shovel.' 
 
 My uncle drew himself up to his full 
 height, and stalked grandly along with the 
 eyes of the people upon him. ^ See/ he 
 seemed to say, by the swelling folds of his 
 gown, ^ see my fame, how widespread it is — 
 my reputation, how great !' 
 
 He stopped at the corner of Fleet Lane, 
 where the houses were no longer taverns, and 
 announcements of marriaofes were no lonofer 
 to be seen. It was a house of three stories 
 high, w^ith a door which, like all the doors in 
 that neighbourhood, stood ever open. 
 
 Here the doctor stopped and addressed 
 Mrs. Gambit : 
 
 ' You spoke of safety. I am about to con- 
 fide this child to the care of two gentlewomen, 
 poor but of good birth and character, whom 
 unjust laws and the wickedness of men have 
 condemned to imprisonment. I know of no 
 better guardians ; but you shall satisfy your-
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 127 
 
 self before you go away. Wait a moment 
 while I confer with the ladies.' 
 
 We stayed below for ten minutes. Then 
 my uncle came down the stairs, and bade me 
 return Avith him to be presented to the ladies, 
 who had kindly accepted the charge on con- 
 dition, he said, of my good conduct. 
 
 I followed him, Mrs. Gambit keeping close 
 to me. We stopped at a door on the first 
 floor. The room was poor and shabby : the 
 furniture, of Avhich there was not much, was 
 old and worn : there was no carpet : a white 
 blind was half drawn over the window : the 
 place, to judge by the presence of a saucepan, 
 a kettle, and a gridiron, was apparently a 
 kitchen as well as a sitting-room : all, except 
 a great portrait of a gentleman, in majestic 
 wig and splendid gown, which hung over the 
 fireplace, was mean and pinched. Two ladies, 
 of fifty or thereabouts, stood before me, hold- 
 ing^ out hands of welcome. 
 
 They were both exactly alike, being small 
 and thin, with hollow cheeks, bright eyes, 
 and pointed features like a pair of birds : 
 they wore white caps, a sort of grey frock in 
 cheap stuff : their hair was white : their hands
 
 128 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 were thin, with delicate fingers, transparent 
 hke the fing^ers of those who have been longr 
 in bed with sickness : they were of the same 
 height, and appeared to be of the same age 
 — namely, fifty or thereabouts. My first 
 thousfht, as I looked at them, was that they 
 had not enough to eat — which, indeed, like 
 all first thoughts, was correct, because that 
 had generally been the case with these poor 
 creatures. 
 
 ' Kitty,' said the doctor, taking me by the 
 hand. ' I present you to Mistress Esther 
 Pimpernel' — here the lady on the left dipped 
 and curtsied, and I also, mighty grave — ' and 
 to Mrs. Deborah Pimpernel ' — here the same 
 ceremony with the lady on the right. 
 ' Ladies, this is my niece Kitty Pleydell, 
 daughter of my deceased sister Barbara and 
 her husband Lawrence Pleydell of pious 
 memory. I trust that in consenting thus 
 generously to receive this child in your ward 
 and keeping, you will find a reward for your 
 benevolence in her obedience, docility and 
 gratitude.' 
 
 ' Doctor,' murmured Mrs. Esther, in a voice 
 like a turtledove's for softness, ^ I am sure
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 129 
 
 that a niece of yours must be all sensibility 
 and goodness.' 
 
 ' Goodness, at least/ said her sister, in 
 sharper tones. 
 
 I saw that the difference between the sisters 
 lay chiefly in their voices. 
 
 ' She will, I trust, be serviceable to you,' 
 said the doctor, waving his hand. ^ She hath 
 been Avell and piously brought up to obedient 
 ways. Under your care, ladies, I look for a 
 good account of her.' 
 
 ' Dear and reverend sir/ Mrs. Esther cooed, 
 ' we are pleased and happy to be of use to 
 you in this matter. No doubt little miss, 
 who is well grown of her years, will repay 
 your kindness with her prayers. As for us, 
 the memory of your past and present good- 
 ness ' 
 
 ' Tut, tut r he replied, shaking his great 
 head till his cheeks wao^s^led, ^ let us hear no 
 more of that. In this place ' — here he laid 
 his right hand upon his heart, elevating his 
 left, and leaning his head to one side — *in 
 this place, where infamy and well-deserved 
 misery attend most of those who dwell in it, 
 it is yours, as it should be mine, to keep 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 burning continually the pure flame of a 
 Christian life/ 
 
 ' How sweet ! how noble !' murmured the 
 sisters. 
 
 Was it possible % The man whom we had 
 just seen reading the service of Mother 
 Church, which my father had taught me to 
 regard as little less sacred than the words of 
 the Bibl^ itself, in a squalid room, reeking with 
 the fi_.es of rum and stale tobacco, before a 
 gang of half-drunken sailors, assumed naturally 
 and easily, as if it helonged to him, the atti- 
 tude and language of one devoted entirely to 
 the contemplation and practice of virtue and 
 good works. Why, his face glowed with 
 goodness like the sun at noonday, or the sun 
 after a shower, or, say, the sun after a good 
 action. The doctor, indeed, as I learned 
 later, could assume almost any character he 
 pleased. It pleased him, not out of hypocrisy, 
 but because for a time it was a return to the 
 promise of his youth, to be with these ladies 
 the devout Christian priest. In that cha- 
 racter he felt, I am convinced, the words 
 which came spontaneously to his lips : for the 
 moment he ivas that character. Outside, in
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 131 
 
 the Fleet Market, he was the great Dr. 
 Shovel — great, because among the Fleet 
 parsons he was the most successful, the most 
 learned, the most eloquent, the most im- 
 portant. In his own room he marrie^ all 
 comers, after the manner we have seen ; and 
 it raised the envy of his rivals to see how 
 the crowd flocked to him. Bat in the even- 
 ing he received his friends, and . ank and 
 talked with them in such fashion as I never 
 saw, but of which I have heard. Again, it 
 raised their envy to witness how men came 
 from all quarters to drink with the doctor. 
 At that time he was no longer the Christian 
 advocate, nor the clergyman ; he was a rol- 
 licking, jovial, boon companion, who delighted 
 to tell better stories, sing better songs, and 
 hold better talk — meaning more Avitty, not 
 more spiritual talk — than any of those who 
 sat with him. I have never been able to 
 comprehend svhat pleasure men, especially 
 men of mature years, can find in telling 
 stories, and laughing, drinking, smoking to- 
 bacco, and sino:inof with one another. Women 
 
 ' O CD 
 
 find their pleasures in more sober guise : they 
 may lie in small thiags, but they are inno- 
 
 9—2
 
 132 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET \ 
 
 cent. Think what this world would be were 
 the women to live like the men, as disorderly, 
 as wastefully, as noisily ! 
 
 ' Now, good woman,' said my uncle to 
 Mrs. Gambit, ' are you satisfied that my 
 niece is in safe hands ?' 
 
 'The hands are good enough,' replied 
 the woman, looking round her ; ' but the 
 place ' 
 
 ' The place is what it is,' said the doctor, 
 sharply ; ' we cannot alter the place.' 
 
 ' Then I will go, sir.' 
 
 With that she gave me my parcel of 
 money, kissed me and bade me farewell, 
 curtsied to the ladies, and left us. 
 
 * I shall send up, ladies,' said the doctor, 
 ' a few trifles of additional furniture : a couple 
 of chairs, one of them an arm-chair — but not 
 for this great, strong girl, if you please — a 
 bed, a shelf for books ; some cups and saucers 
 we shall provide for you. And now, ladies, 
 I wish you good-morning. And for your 
 present wants — I mean the wants of this 
 hungry country maid, who looks as if mutton 
 hunof in toothsome leo^s on everv verdant 
 hedge — this will, I think, suffice ;' he placed
 
 A FLEET WEDDING. 133 
 
 money in Mrs. Esther's hand — I could not 
 but think how he had earned that money — 
 and left us. 
 
 When he was gone the two ladies looked 
 at each other with a strange, sad, and wistful 
 expression, and Mrs. Esther, with the guineas 
 in her hand, burst into tears.
 
 CHAPTEK VI. i 
 
 HOW KITTY BEGAN TO ENJOY THE LIBERTIES OF 
 THE FLEET. 
 
 Her tears disconcerted me extreraely. What 
 did she cry for ? But she presently recovered j 
 and dried her eyes. Then she looked at me 
 thoughtfully, and said : 
 
 ' Sister, I suppose this child has been ; 
 accustomed to have a dinner every day V i 
 
 * Surely,' replied Miss Deborah. ^ And to- 
 day we shall all dine.' j 
 
 To-day we should all dine ? Were there, 
 then, days when we should all go hungry ? 
 
 ' You must know, my dear/ Miss Esther 
 explained in a soft, sad voice, ' that we are 
 very poor. We have, therefore, on many | 
 days in the week to go without meat. Other- i 
 wise we should have to do worse ' — she looked '
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 135 
 
 round the room and shuddered — ^ v/e should 
 have to give up the independence of our soH- 
 tude. Hunger, my child, is not the worst thing 
 to bear.' 
 
 ' A piece of roasting -beef, sister,' said 
 Mrs. Deborah, who had now assumed a hat 
 and a cloak, ' with a summer cabbage, and a 
 pudding in the gravy.' 
 
 ' And I think, sister,' said Mrs. Esther, 
 her eyes lighting up eagerly, ' that we might 
 take our dinner — the child might like to take 
 her dinner — at twelve to-day.' 
 
 While Mrs. Deborah went into the market, 
 I learned that the two sisters had taken no 
 food except bread and water for a Aveek, and 
 that their whole stock now amounted to two 
 shillings in money and part of a loaf. AVhat 
 a strange world was this of London, in which 
 gentlewomen had their lodging in so foul a 
 place and starved on bread and water ! 
 
 'But,' she repeated with a wan smile, ' there 
 are worse thingfs than huno^er. First, we 
 must pay our rent. And here we are at least 
 alone ; here we may continue to remember 
 our breeding.' 
 
 Before Mistress Deborah returned, I also
 
 136 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 learned that they were chiefly dependent on 
 a cousin for supphes of money, which were 
 made to them grudgingly (and indeed he was 
 not rich), and that the doctor had provided 
 for my maintenance with the offer of so large 
 a w^eekly sum that it promised to suffice for 
 the wants of all. 
 
 ' We are/ said Mrs. Esther, ' but small 
 eaters ; a Httle will suffice for us. But you, 
 child, are young ; eat without fear, eat your 
 fill ; the money is for you, and we shall 
 grudge you nothing.' 
 
 While the beef was roasting I noticed how 
 their eyes from time to time, in spite of 
 themselves, would be fixed upon the meat 
 with a hungry and eager look. Nor had I 
 any enjoyment of the meal till I had seen 
 their pangs appeased. After the plenty of 
 the Vicarage and the Hall, to think of 
 bread and water, and not too much bread,, 
 for days together ! Yet, hungry as they 
 were, they ate but little ; it shamed me to 
 go on eating, being always a girl of a vigorous 
 appetite and hard-set about the hour of noon; 
 it shamed me at first, also, to observe their 
 ways of thrift, so that not the least crumb
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 137 
 
 should be wasted. Mrs. Deborah read my 
 thoughts. 
 
 * In this place,' she said, ^ we learn to value 
 what it takes money to procure. Yet there 
 are some here poorer than ourselves. Eat, 
 child, eat. For us this has been, indeed, a 
 feast of Belteshazzar.' 
 
 Dinner over, we unpacked my box, and 
 they asked me questions. I found that they 
 were proud of their birth and breeding ; the 
 portrait over the fire was, they told me, that 
 of their father, once Lord Mayor of London, 
 and they congratulated me upon being my- 
 self a Pleydell, which, they said, was a name 
 very well known in the country, although 
 many great city families might be ignorant 
 of it. 
 
 ' No gift, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, * is 
 so precious as gentle blood. Everything 
 else may be won, but birth never.' 
 
 All day long there went on the same dread- 
 ful noise of shouting, crying, calling, bawling, 
 rolling of carts, cracking of whips, and tramp- 
 ling of horses' feet. In the evening I asked, 
 when the sun went down, but the noise de- 
 creased not, if it was always thus.
 
 138 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 'Always/ they replied. ^ There is no ces- 
 sation, day or night. It is part/ said Mrs. 
 Deborah, ^ of onr punishment. ' We are 
 condemned, child ; for the sin of having a 
 negligent trustee, we go in captivity, shame, 
 and degradation all our lives.' 
 
 ^ Nay,' said her sister, ' not degradation, 
 sister. No one but herself can degrade a 
 gentlewoman.' 
 
 Truly, the noise was terrible. When I read 
 m the 'Paradise Lost,' of fallen angels in their 
 dark abode, I think of Fleet Market and the 
 Fleet Bules. It began in the early morning 
 with the rolling of the carts : all day long 
 in the market there was a continual crying 
 of the butchers : ' Buy, buy, ladies — buy ! 
 Kally up, ladies — rally up I' There were 
 quarrels unceasing and ever beginning, with 
 fights, shouting and cursing : the fish-women 
 quarrelled at their stalls ; the poultry- wives 
 quarrelled over their baskets ; the porters 
 quarrelled over their burdens ; the carters 
 over the right of way ; the ragamuffin boys 
 over stolen fruit. There was nothing pleasant, 
 nothing quiet, nothing to refresh ; nothing 
 but noise, brawling, and contention. And if
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 139 
 
 any signs of joy, these only drunken laughter 
 from open tavern-doors. 
 
 Thus I besran to live, beinsf then a maid of 
 sixteen years and seven months, in the Rules 
 and Liberties of the Fleet Prison ; surely as 
 bad a place, outside Newgate Prison, as could 
 be found for a girl brought up in innocence 
 and virtue. For, let one consider the situ- 
 ation of the Rules. They include all those 
 houses which lie between the ditch, or rather 
 the market, on the west, and the Old Bailey 
 on the east — fit boundaries for such a place, 
 the filthy turbid ditch and the criminal's gaol 
 — and Fleet Lane on the north to Ludgate 
 Hill on the south. These streets are beyond 
 and between the abodes of respectability and 
 industry. On the east was the great and 
 wealthy City with the merchants' houses ; on 
 the west the streets and squares where the 
 families of the country had their town resi- 
 dence ; on the south, the river ; on the north, 
 the dark and gloomy streets of Clerkenwell, 
 where thieves lay in hiding and the robbers 
 of the road had their customary quarters. 
 Why, Jonathan Wyld himself, the greatest 
 of villains, lived hard by in Ship Court. Is
 
 143 THE CHAPLAIX OF THE FLEET, 
 
 there, am'where, in any town, an acre more 
 thickly covered with infamy, misery, starva- 
 tion, and wretchednes 
 
 S5> : 
 
 If we walked abroad, we could not ^o north 
 because of Clerkenwell, where no honest wo- 
 man may trust herself : if we went south we 
 had to walk the whole lens^th of the market, 
 past the marrying taverns, so that shame fell 
 upon my heart to think how my uncle w^as one 
 of those who thus dissfraced his cloth : when we 
 ^^ot to the end, we might walk over the Fleet 
 Bridge, among the noisy sellers of quack me- 
 dicines, pills, powders, hot furmety, pies, 
 flounders, ruackerel, and oysters; or on Lud- 
 gate Hill, where the touts of the Fleet 
 parsons ran up and down inviting couples 
 to be married, and the Morocco men went 
 about, book in hand, to sell their lottery 
 shares. The most quiet way when we took 
 the air was to cross Holborn Bridge, and 
 so up the hill past St. Andrew's Church, 
 where, if the weather were fine, we might 
 2ro as far as the irardens of Grav's Inn, and 
 there sit down among the trees and feel for a 
 little the joy of silence. 
 
 Said Mrs. Deborah, one dav, v\'hen we two
 
 THE LIBERTIES OE THE FLEET 141 
 
 \. 
 had sat there, under the trees, for half an 
 
 hour, hstening to the cawing of the rooks : 
 
 ' Child, the place ' — meaning the Rules — 
 ' is the City of Destruction after Christian 
 and Christiana, and the boys, and Mercy 
 Avere all gone away.' 
 
 We lived in one room, which was both 
 kitchen and parlour. We had no servant ; 
 the doctor's provision kept us in simple 
 plenty ; we cleaned and dusted the place for 
 ourselves ; we cooked our dinners, and washed 
 our dishes ; we made our dresses : we did for 
 ourselves all those things which are generally 
 done by a servant. Mrs. Esther said that there 
 was no shame in doing things which, if left 
 undone^ would cause a gentlewoman to lose 
 her self-respect. 'Twas all, except the portrait 
 of her father, that she had left of her former 
 life, and to this she would cling as something 
 dearer than life. 
 
 There were other lodgers in the house. 
 All who lodged there Avere, of course, 
 prisoners ' enjoying ' the Rules — who else 
 w^ould live in the place \ On the ground- 
 floor was Sir Miles Lackington, Baronet. He 
 was not yet thirty, yet he had already got rid
 
 142 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 of a great and noble estate by means of 
 gambling, and now was compelled to hide his 
 head in this refuge, and to live upon an 
 allowance of two guineas made weekly to 
 him '^by a cousin. This, one would have 
 thought, was a disgrace enough to overwhelm 
 a gentleman of his rank and age with shame. 
 But it touched him not, for he was ever gay, 
 cheerful, and ready to laugh. He was kind 
 to my ladies and to me ; his manners, when 
 he was sober, were gentle ; though his face 
 was always flushed and cheeks swollen by 
 reason of his midnight potations, he was still 
 a handsome fellow ; he was careless of his 
 appearance as of his fortune ; he would go 
 with waistcoat unbuttoned, wig awry, neck- 
 cloth loose, ruffles limp ; but however he 
 went it was Avith a laugh. When he received 
 his two guineas he generally gave away the 
 half among his friends. In the evening they 
 used to carry him home to his room on the 
 ground-floor, too drunk to stand. 
 
 I soon got to know him, and we had 
 frequent talks. He seemed to be ever meet- 
 ing me on the stairs when I Avent a-marketing; 
 he called upon us often, and Avould sit with
 
 THE LIBERTIES OE THE ELEET. 143 
 
 me during the warm summer afternoons, 
 when the sisters dropped off to sleep. I 
 grew to hke him, and he encouraged me to 
 say freely what I thought, even to the extent 
 of rating him for his profligate practices. 
 
 * Why,' he would say, laughing, * I am at 
 the lowest — I can go no lower; yet I have 
 my two guineas a week. I have enough to 
 eat, I drink freely : what more can I want ?' 
 
 I told him what his life seemed to me. 
 
 He laughed again at this, but perhaps un- 
 easily. 
 
 ' Does it seem so terrible a thing/ he said, 
 leaninsr ag^ainst the window with his hands in 
 his pockets, * to have no cares ? Believe me, 
 Kitty, Fortune has brought me into a har- 
 bour where winds and tempests never blow. 
 While I had my estate, my conscience 
 plagued me night and morning. And yet I 
 knew that all must fly. Hazard doth always 
 serve her children so, and leaves them naked. 
 Well — it is gone. So can I play no more. But 
 he who plays should keep sober if he would 
 win. Now that I cannot play, I may drink. 
 And again, when, formerly, I was rich and a 
 prodigal, friend and enemy came to me with
 
 144 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 advice. I believe they thought the Book of 
 Proverbs had been written specially to meet 
 my case, so much did they quote the words 
 of Solomon, A^^ar, and Lemuel. But, no 
 doubt, there have been fools before, and truly 
 it helpeth a fool no whit to show him his 
 folly. '' As a thorn goeth up into the hand 
 of a drunkard, so is a parable in the mouth of 
 fools." I remember that proverb. Now 
 that Hazard hath taken all, there is no longer 
 occasion for advice. Child, you look upon 
 one who hath thrown away his life, and yet is 
 happier in his fall and repents not. For I 
 make no doubt but that, had I my fortune 
 back, 'twould fly away again in the same 
 fashion.' 
 
 He concluded with an allusion to the 
 Enemy of Mankind, for which I rebuked 
 him, and he laughed, saying : 
 
 * Pretty Puritan, I will offend no more.' 
 Had I been older and more experienced, I 
 should have known or suspected why he came 
 so often and met me daily. Kitty had found 
 favour in the sight of this dethroned king. 
 He loved the maid : her freshness, her rosy 
 cheeks, her youth, her innocence pleased him,
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 145 
 
 I suppose. We know not, we women, for 
 what qualities there are in us that we are 
 loved by men, so that they will commit so 
 many follies for our sake. 
 
 ' Thou art such a girl, sweet Kitty,' he 
 said to me, one day, ' so pretty and so good, 
 as ^yould tempt a man wallowing contentedly 
 in the pigsties of the world, to get up, wash 
 himself, and go cleanly, for thy sake. Yet 
 what a miserable wretch should I be did I 
 thus learn to feel my own downfall !' 
 
 And aofain he told me once that he was 
 ^00 far gone to love mQ ; and not far enough 
 gone to do me an injury. 
 
 ' Wherefore,' he added, ' I must worship 
 at thy shrine in silent admiration.' 
 
 It was kindly done of Sir Miles to spare 
 an ignorant girl. For so ignorant was Kitty, 
 and so brotherly did he seem, that had he 
 asked her to become his wife, I think she 
 would have consented. Oh, the fine state, to 
 be my Lady Lackington, and to live in the 
 Rules of the Fleet ! 
 
 Another lodger in our house, a man whose 
 face inspired me with horror, so full of selfish 
 passion was it, was a Captain Dunquerque. 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 With him were his wife and children. It 
 was of the children, poor things, that our 
 Esther spoke when she said there w^ere some 
 in the place poorer than themselves ; for the 
 wife and children starved, while the captain, 
 their father, ate and drank his fill. A gloomy 
 man, as well as selfish, who reviled the fate 
 which he had brought uj)on himself. Yet for 
 all his reviling, he spared himself nothing so 
 that his children might have something. I 
 am glad that this bad man has little to do 
 with my history. 
 
 Another lodger, who had the garret at the 
 top, w^as Solomon Stallabras, the poet. 
 
 It is very well known that the profession 
 of letters, of all the trades, callings, and con- 
 ditions of men, is the most precarious and 
 the most miserable. I doubt, indeed, whether 
 that ought to be called a profession which 
 requires no training, no colleges or schools, no 
 degree, and no diploma. Other professions 
 are, in a way, independent : the barrister doth 
 not court, though he may depend upon, the 
 favour of attorneys ; the rector of the parish 
 doth not ask the farmers to support him, but 
 takes the tithes to which he is entitled ; the
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 147 
 
 poor author, however, is obhgecl to receive of 
 his pubHsher whatever is offered, nor is there 
 any corporate body or guild of authors by 
 whom the situation of the j)oet may be con- 
 sidered and his condition improved. Alone 
 among learned men, the author is doomed to 
 perpetual dependence and poverty. Indeed, 
 when one considers it, scarce anything else is 
 to be expected, for, in becoming an author, a 
 man is so vain as to expect that to him will 
 be PTau ted what has been Piven to no man ex- 
 cept Shakespeare — a continual flow of strength, 
 spirits, ingenuity, wit, and dexterity, so as to 
 sustain, without diminution or relaxation, the 
 rapid production of works for the delight of 
 the world. I say rapid, because the books 
 are bought by publishers at a low rate, though 
 they are sold to the public at large sums. 
 And, if we think of it, scarce any author 
 produces more than one or two books which 
 please the world. Therefore, when the foun- 
 tain runs dry, whither is that poor author to 
 turn 1 The public will have none of him ; 
 his publisher will have none of him ; there 
 remains, it is true, one hope, and that un- 
 worthy, to get subscriptions for a volume 
 
 10—2
 
 148 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 which he will never produce, because he will 
 have eaten up beforehand the money paid for 
 it before it is written. 
 
 The Fleet Prison and its Kules have 
 always been a favourite resort and refuge 
 for poets and men of letters. Kobert Lloyd 
 died there, but long after I went away ; 
 Richard Savage died there ; Churchill was 
 married in the place, and would have died 
 there, had he not anticipated his certain fate 
 by dying early ; Samuel Boyce died there ; 
 Sir Richard Baker died there ; William 
 Oldys, who died, to be sure, outside the 
 Rules, yet drank every night within them ; 
 lastly, within a stone's throw of the Rules, 
 though he was never a prisoner, died the 
 great John Bunyan himself 
 
 I heard my ladies, from time to time, talk 
 of a certain Mr. Stallabras. They wondered 
 why he did not call as usual, and laid the 
 blame upon me ; little madam had made him 
 shy. One day, however, Mrs. Esther being 
 called out by one of Captain Dunquerque's 
 children, came back presently, saying that 
 Mr. Stallabras was starving to death in his 
 room.
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 149 
 
 Mrs. Deborah made no replj, but instantly 
 hurried to the cupboard, when she took down 
 the cold beef which was to be our dinner, and 
 cut off three or four goodly slices ; these she 
 laid on a plate, with bread and salt, and put 
 the whole upon a napkin ; and then she dis- 
 appeared swiftly. 
 
 ' The poor young man ! the dear young 
 man T cried Mrs. Esther, wringing her hands. 
 * What can we do ? My dear, the sweetest 
 and most melHfluous of poets ! The pride 
 and glory of his age ! It is he who wrote 
 '^ Hours of the Night," the "Pleasures of 
 Solitude," the " Loves of Amoret and 
 x^moretta," and other delightful verses ; yet 
 they let him languish in the Fleet ! What 
 are my countrymen thinking of? Would it 
 not be better to rescue (while still living) so 
 inofenious and charminof a writer from his 
 poverty, than to give him (as they must), 
 after his death, a grave in Westminster 
 Abbey ?' 
 
 I asked her if we should read tosfether 
 these delightful poems. 
 
 * We have no copy,' she said. ^ Mr. Stalla- 
 bras, who is all sensibility, insists, from time
 
 I50 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 to time, upon our having copies, so that we 
 may read them aloud to him. Yet his neces- 
 sities are such that he is fain to take them 
 away again and sell them. As for his 
 manners, my dear, they are ^very fine, being 
 such as to confer distinction upon the Kules. 
 He has not the easy bearing of Sir Miles 
 Lackington, of course, which one would not 
 expect save in a man born to good breeding ; 
 but he possesses in full measure the courtesy 
 which comes from study and self-dignity. Yet 
 he is but a hosier's son.' 
 
 Mrs. Deborah here returned, bearing an 
 empty plate. 
 
 She had trouble at first, she said, to per- 
 suade him to eat. His prejudices as a 
 gentleman and a scholar were ofiended by 
 the absence of horse-radish ; but, as he had 
 eaten nothing for two days, he was induced 
 to waive this scruple, and presently made a 
 hearty meal. She had also persuaded him 
 to come downstairs in the evening, and take 
 a dish of tea. 
 
 Thanks to the doctor's liberality in the 
 m^atter of my weekly board, tea was now a 
 luxury in which we could sometimes indulge.
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 151 
 
 Nothing gave Mrs. Esther more gratification 
 than the return, after long deprivation, to 
 that poUte beverage. 
 
 At about five o'clock the poet made his 
 appearance. He was short of stature, with a 
 turned-up nose, and was dressed in a drab- 
 coloured coat, with a bag wig, and shoes with 
 steel buckles. Everything that he wore had 
 once been fine, but their splendour was faded 
 now; his linen was in rags, his shoes in holes ; 
 but he carried himself with pride. His dig- 
 nity did not depend upon his piu^se ; he bore 
 his head high, because he thought of his 
 fame. It inflicted no wound to his -^ pride to 
 remember that he had that day been on the 
 eve of starvation, and was still without a 
 farthing. 
 
 'Miss Kitty,' he said, bowing very low, 
 'you see before you one who, though a 
 favourite of the Muses, is no favourite of 
 Fortune : 
 
 ' " 'Gainst hostile fate his heart is calm the while, 
 Though Fortune frown, the tuneful sisters smile." 
 
 Poetry, ladies, brings with it the truest con- 
 solation.' 
 
 ' And religion/ said Mrs. Esther.
 
 152 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 ' There lives not — be sure — the wretch,' 
 cried the poet, ^ who would dissociate religion 
 and the Muse/ 
 
 This was very grand, and pleased us all. 
 We had our dish of tea, Avith bread and 
 butter. I went on cutting it for the poet till 
 the loaf was quite gone. 
 
 During the evening he gave utterance to 
 many noble sentiments — so noble, indeed, 
 that they seemed to me taken out of books. 
 And before he went away he laid down his 
 views as to the profession of letters, of Avhich 
 I have already spoken, perhaps, too severely. 
 
 ' It is the mission of the poet and author,' 
 he said, ' to delight, and to improve while 
 delighting. The man of science may in- 
 struct ; the poet embodies the knowledge, 
 and dresses it up in a captivating way to 
 attract the people : the divine teaches the 
 dogmas of the Church ; the poet conveys, in 
 more pleasing form, the lessons and instruc- 
 tions of religion : the philosopher and mo- 
 ralist lay down the laws of our being; the 
 author, by tropes and figures, by fiction, by 
 poetry, shows the proper conduct of life, and 
 teaches how the way of virtue leads to happi-
 
 THE LIBERTIES OE THE FLEET. 
 
 153 
 
 ness. Is not this a noble and elevating 
 career ? Does not a man do well who says to 
 himself, '^ This shall be my life ; this my lot " ^' 
 
 He paused, and Ave murmured assent to 
 his enthusiasm. 
 
 ' It is true,' he went on, ' that the ungrate- 
 ful world thinks little of its best friends ; 
 that it allows me — me, Solomon Stallabras, 
 to languish in the Hules of the Fleet. Even 
 that, however, has its consolation ; because, 
 ladies, it has brought me the honour and 
 happiness of your friendship.' 
 
 He rose, saluted us all three in tarn, and 
 sat down again. 
 
 ' Art,' he went on, ' so inspires a man with 
 great thoughts, that it makes more than a 
 gentleman — it makes a nobleman — of him. 
 Who, I would ask, when he reads the sorrows 
 of Clarissa, thinks of the trade — the mere 
 mechanical trade — in which the author's 
 money was earned ? I cannot but believe 
 that the time will come when the Court 
 itself, unfriendly as it now is to men of 
 letters, will confer titles and place upon that 
 poor poet whose very name cannot now reach 
 the walls of the palace.'
 
 154 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 My ladies' good fortune (I mean in receiv- 
 ing the weekly stipend for my maintenance) 
 was thus shared by the starving poet, w^hom 
 they no longer saw, helpless to relieve him, 
 suffering the privation of hunger. Often 
 have I observed one or other of the sisters 
 willingly go without her dinner, pleading a 
 headache, in order that her portion might be 
 reserved for Mr. Stallabras. 
 
 ' For sensibility,' said Mrs. Esther, * is like 
 walking up a hill : it promotes appetite.' 
 
 * So does youth,' said Mrs. Deborah, more 
 practical. ^ Mr. Stallabras is still a young 
 man, Kitty ; though you think thirty old.', 
 
 That he was a very great poet we all 
 agreed, and the more so when, after a lucky 
 letter, he secured a subscriber or two for his 
 next volume, and was able to present us once 
 more with a book of his own poetry. I do 
 not know whether he more enjoyed hearing 
 me read them aloud (for then he bowed, 
 spread his hands, and inclined his head this 
 way and that, in appreciation of the melody 
 and delicacy of the sentiments), or whether 
 he preferred to read them himself; for then 
 he could stop when he pleased, with, ^ This
 
 / THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 155 
 
 idea, ladies, was conceived while wandering 
 amid the fields near Bagnigge Wells ;' ' This 
 came to me while watching the gay throng 
 in the Mall ;' ' This, I confess, was an inspi- 
 ration caught in church.' 
 
 * Kitty should enter these confessions in a 
 book,' said Mrs. Esther. ' Surely they will 
 become valuable in the day — far distant, I 
 trust — when your life has to be written, Mr. 
 Stallabras.' 
 
 ' Oh, madam !' He bowed again, and 
 lifted his hands in deprecation. But he was 
 pleased. ' Perhaps/ he said, ' meaner bards 
 have found a place in the Abbey, and a volume 
 dedicated to their lives. If Miss Kitty will 
 condescend to thus preserve recollections of 
 me, I shall be greatly flattered.' 
 
 I did keep a book, and entered in it all 
 that dropped from his lips about himself, his 
 opinions, his maxims, his thoughts, and so 
 forth. He gradually got possessed of the 
 idea that I would myself some day write his 
 life, and he began insensibly to direct his 
 conversation mainly to me. 
 
 Sometimes he met me in the market, or on 
 the stairs, when he would tell me more.
 
 156 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 ' I always knew/ he said, ' from the very 
 first, that I was born to greatness. It was in 
 me as a child, when, like Pope, I lisped in 
 numbers. My station, originally, was not 
 lofty, Miss Kitty.' He spoke as if he had 
 risen to a dazzling height. * I was but the 
 son of a hosier, born in Fetter Lane, and 
 taught at the school, or academy, kej^t by 
 one Jacob Crooks, who was handier with the 
 rod than with the Gradus ad Parnassum. 
 But I read, and taught myself; became at 
 first the hack of Mr. Dodsley, and gradually 
 rose to eminence.' 
 
 He had, indeed, risen ; he was the occu- 
 pant of a garret ; his fame lay in his own 
 imagination ; and he had not a guinea in the 
 world. 
 
 ' Miss Kitty,' he said, one day, ^ there is 
 only one thing that disqualifies you from 
 being my biographer.' 
 
 I asked him what that was. 
 
 * You are not, as you should be, my wife. 
 If virtue and beauty fitted you for the station 
 of a poet's w^ife, the thing Avere easy. Alas, 
 child 1 the poet is poor, and his mistress would 
 be poorer. Nevertheless, believe that the
 
 THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 157 
 
 means, and not the Avill, are wanting to make 
 thee my Laura, my Stella, and me thy 
 Petrarch, or thy Sidney.' 
 
 It was not till later that I understood how 
 this starveling poet, as well as the broken 
 baronet, had both expressed their desire 
 (under more favourable circumstances) to 
 make love to me. Grand would have been 
 my lot as Lady Lackington, but grander still 
 as Mistress Stallabras, wife of the illustrious 
 poet, who lived, like the sparrows, from hand 
 to mouth.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW KITTY LEARNED TO KNOW THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Those evenings of riot from ^vhicli Sir Miles 
 was so often carried home speechless, were 
 spent in no other place than that very room 
 where I had seen the marriage of the sailors ; 
 and the president of the rabble rout w^as no 
 other than the doctor himself. 
 
 I learned this of Sir Miles. If my ladies 
 knew it, of which I am not certain, they 
 were content to shut their eyes to it, and to 
 think of the thing as one of the faults which 
 w^omen, in contempt and pity, ascribe to the 
 strange nature of man. I cannot, being now 
 of ripe years, believe that Heaven hath 
 created in man a special aptitude for de- 
 bauchery, sin, and profligacy, wdiile women 
 have been designed for the illustration of
 
 KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 159 
 
 virtues which are the opposite to them. So 
 that, when I hear it said that it is the way 
 of men, T am apt to think that way sinfuL 
 
 It was Sir Miles himself who told me of it 
 one morninof'. I found him leaning- ao^ainst 
 the doorpost with a tankard of ale in his 
 hand. 
 
 ^ Fie, Sir Miles !' I said. ' Is it not shame- 
 ful for a gentleman to be carried home at 
 night, hke a pig V 
 
 ^ It is/ he replied. ' Kitty, the morning is 
 the time for repentance. I repent until I 
 have cleared my brain with this draught of 
 cool October.' 
 
 ' It is as if a man should drag a napkin in 
 the mud of the Fleet Ditch to clean it,' I 
 said. 
 
 He drank off his tankard, and said he felt 
 better. 
 
 ' Pretty Miss Kitty,' he said, ' it is a fine 
 morning ; shall we abroad ? Will you trust 
 yourself with me to view the shops in Cheap- 
 side or the beaux in the Mall \ I am at thy 
 service, though, for a Norfolk baronet, my 
 ruffles are 01 the shabbiest.' 
 
 I told him that I would ask Mistress
 
 i6o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 Esther for permission. He said he wanted 
 first a second pint, as the evening had been 
 long and the drink abundant, after which his 
 brain w^ould be perfectly clear and his hand 
 steady. 
 
 I told him it was a shame that a gentleman 
 of his rank should mate with men w^hose 
 proper place was among the thieves of 
 Turnmill Street, or the porters of Chick Lane, 
 and that I would not walk with a man whose 
 brain required a quart of strong ale in the 
 mornino* to clear it. 
 
 o 
 
 ' As for my companions/ he said, taking 
 the second pint which the boy brought him 
 and turning it about in his hands, ' we have 
 very good company in the Liberties — quite as 
 good as your friend Christian, in that story 
 you love so much, might have had in Vanity 
 Fair, had he been a lad of mettle and a toper. 
 There are gentlemen of good family, like 
 myself ; poets like Solomon Stallabras ; 
 merchants, half-pay captains and broke lieu- 
 tenants ; clerks, tradesmen, lawyers, parsons, 
 farmers, men of all degrees. It is like the 
 outside world, except that here all are equal 
 who can pay their shot. Why, with the
 
 KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. i6i 
 
 •doctor at the head of the table, and a bowl of 
 punch just begun, hang me if I know any 
 place where a man may feel more comfortable 
 or drink more at his ease.' 
 
 ' The doctor ?' I asked. Now I had seen 
 so little of my uncle that I had almost for- 
 gotten the marriage of the sailors, and was 
 beginning again to think of him as the pious 
 and serious minister who spoke of sacred 
 things to my guardians. ' The doctor V 
 
 ' Ay ;' Sir Miles drank off the whole of his 
 second pint. ^ Who else ?' His voice became 
 suddenly thick, and his eyes fixed, with a 
 strange light in them. ' Who else but the 
 doctor ? Why, what would the Kules be 
 without the doctor ? He is our prince, our 
 bishop, our chaplain — what you will — the 
 right reverend his most gracious majesty the 
 Kino; of the Eules,' Sir Miles waved his 
 hand dramatically. ' He keeps us sweet ; he 
 polishes our wits ; but for him we should be 
 wallowing swine : he brings strangers and 
 visitors to enliven us ; drinks with us, sings 
 with us, makes wit for us from the treasures 
 of his learning ; condescends to call us his 
 friends ; pays our shot for us ; lends us 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 1 62 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 money ; gives food to the starving, and 
 drink — yes, drink, by gad ! to the thirsty, and 
 clothes to the naked. Ah, poor girl ! you 
 can never see the doctor in his glory, with all 
 his admirers round him, and every man a 
 glass of punch in his hand and a clean 
 tobacco-pipe in his mouth. The doctor % he 
 is our boast ; a most complete and perfect 
 doctor ; the pride of Cambridge ; the crown 
 and sum of all doctors in divinity !' 
 
 He had forgotten, I suppose, his invitation 
 to take me for a walk, for he left me here, 
 staggering off in the direction of the Hand 
 and Pen, where, I doubt not, he spent the 
 rest of his idle and wasted day. 
 
 It would have been useless and cruel to 
 talk to my guardian about this discovery. It 
 was another thing to be ashamed of. Sir 
 Miles told me less than the truth. In fact 
 the doctor's house was the nightly resort of all 
 those residents in the Rules whom he would 
 admit to his society. Hither, too, came, 
 attracted by his reputation for eloquence, wit, 
 and curious knowledge, gentlemen from the 
 Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and other places, who 
 were expected, as a contribution to the even-
 
 KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 163 
 
 ing, to send for bowls of punch. But of this 
 presently. 
 
 I saw my uncle seldom. He visited the 
 sisters from time to time, and never failed to 
 ask particularly after my progress in know- 
 ledge, and especially in the doctrines of the 
 Church of England. On these occasions he 
 generally left behind him, as a present, some 
 maxim or precept tending to virtue, which we 
 could repeat after his departure and turn over 
 in our minds at leisure. Once he found me 
 alone, Mrs. Deborah being indisposed and con- 
 fined to her room, where her sister was nursing 
 her. He took advantage of their absence to 
 impress upon me the necessity of circum- 
 spection in my manner of life. 
 
 ^ Heaven knows, child,' he said, ^ what thy 
 future will be. Hither come none but pro- 
 fligates and spendthrifts. Yet what else can 
 I do with thee ? Where bestow thee X 
 
 * Oh, sir !' I said, ^ let me not be taken from- 
 my dear ladies.' 
 
 ' Thou shalt not, child ; at least for the 
 present. But it is bad for thee to live here ; 
 it is bad for thee to have as an uncle one whose 
 life is sadly inconsistent with his Christian 
 
 11—2
 
 1 64 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 profession, and who might despair, were it not 
 for the example of Solomon (methinks from 
 his history may be sucked consolation by all 
 elderly and reverend sinners). Like him, 
 what I lack in practice I partly make up 
 with precept. He who, like me, is a Fleet 
 parson, should be judged differently from 
 his fellows : he is without the license and 
 therefore hath forfeited paternal affection 
 of his bishop ; he is exposed to temptations 
 which beset not other folk ; among those 
 who flock to him for marriaofe are some who 
 Avould fain commute their fees for brandy and 
 strong drinks, or even bilk the clergyman 
 altoo^ether — a sin which it is difficult to be- 
 lieve can be forgiven. Hence arise strifes and 
 wraths, unseemly for one who wears a cassock. 
 Hither come those who seek good fellowship 
 and think to find it in the Rules : Templars, 
 young bloods, and wits. Hence arise drink- 
 ing and brawling ; and as one is outside the 
 law, so to speak, so one is tempted to neglect 
 the law. I say nothing of the temptations of 
 an empty purse. These I felt, with many 
 prickings and instigations of the Evil One, 
 while I was yet curate of St. Martin's-in-the-
 
 KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 165 
 
 Fields, before I escaped my creditors by 
 coming here. Then I was poor, and found, 
 as the Wise Man says, that * The poor is 
 hated even of his own neighbour/ 
 
 He went on, half preaching, half talking. 
 
 A man who sinned greatly, yet preached 
 much ; who daily fell, yet daily exhorted his 
 neighbour to stand upright ; who knew and 
 loved, as one loves a thing impossible to 
 attain, the life of virtue ; who drank, laughed, 
 and bawled sono^s of an evenino^ with his boon 
 companions ; v/ho married all comers, no ques- 
 tion asked, without scruple and without re- 
 morse, a priest whose life was a disgrace to 
 his profession; who did kind and generous 
 things, and paid that homage to Virtue which 
 becomes one who knows her loveliness. 
 
 It pleased him to talk, but only wdth me,, 
 about himself He was always excusing him- 
 self to me, ashamed of his life, yet boasting 
 of it and glorying in it ; conscious of his 
 infamy, and yet proud of his success ; always 
 thinking by what plea he could justify him- 
 self, and maintain his self-respect. 
 
 ^ I am a man,' he said, ' who is the best of a 
 bad profession. My work is inglorious, but
 
 1 66 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 I am glorious ; my rivals, who would rob me 
 of my very practice, do not hate me, but 
 esteem and envy me. I have, yea, outside 
 these Kules, friends who love me still ; some 
 of them pity me, and some would see me 
 (which is impossible) restored to the fold and 
 bosom of the Church; some who drink with 
 me, talk with me, borrow of me, walk with 
 me, smoke with me, and are honoured by my 
 friendship. There is no man living w4io 
 would wish me harm. Surely, I am one of 
 those who do good to themselves, whom, 
 therefore, their fellow-men respect.' 
 
 I have said that he was generous. Sir 
 Miles spoke the truth when he declared that 
 the doctor fed the starving and clothed the 
 naked. Truly it seems to me natural to be- 
 lieve that these good deeds of his must be a 
 set-off to the great wickedness of his life. 
 There were no occupants of the prison and 
 its Liberties who were rich. Some there were 
 who would have starved but for the charity 
 of their friends. The poor prisoners were 
 allowed to beg, but how could poor gentle- 
 w^omen like my guardians bear to beg for 
 daily bread ? Kather would they starve. As
 
 KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 167 
 
 for the prison, I know nothing of it ; I never 
 saw the inside ; it was enough for me to see 
 its long and dreary wall. I used to think at 
 night of the poor creatures shut up there in 
 hopeless misery, as I thought, though Sir 
 Miles declared that most of them were 
 happier in the prison than out ; and beside 
 the latticed gate there stood every day a man 
 behind bars begging with a plate and crying : 
 ' Pity the poor prisoners.' 
 
 Is it not sad that the same punishment of 
 imprisonment must be meted out to the 
 rogue and the debtor, save that we let the 
 rogue go free while we keep the debtor locked 
 up ? Truly, the Vicar of St. Bride's or even 
 the Dean of St. Paul's himself could preach 
 no better sermon, could use no words more 
 fitted to arrest the profligate and bring the 
 thoughtless to reason, than that doleful cry 
 behind the bars. Nor could any more salu- 
 tary lesson be impressed upon young spend- 
 thrifts than to take them from house to 
 house in the Rules and show them the end of 
 graceless ways.
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 
 
 As soon as they were settled together, and 
 the ladies had decided in their own minds 
 that the girl would lighten their lives, they 
 resolved that Kitty's education must not be 
 neo^lected, and for this end bes^an to devise 
 such a comprehensive scheme as would have 
 required the staff of a whole university to 
 carry it through. Everything was set down 
 (upon a slate) which it behoved a girl to 
 know. Unfortunately the means at their 
 disposal did not allow of this great scheme. 
 Thus it was fitting that music should be 
 taught : Mrs. Deborah had once been a pro- 
 ficient on the spinnet, but there was no 
 spinnet to be had ; the French tongue forms 
 part of polite education, but though both
 
 HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 169 
 
 ladies had learned it of old, their memory 
 Avas defective, and they had neither dictionary 
 nor grammar nor any book in the language ; 
 limning, both with pencil and in water-colours, 
 should be taught, but the sisters could neither 
 of them draw, and hardly knew a curve from 
 a straight line. Caligraphy is almost a neces- 
 sary, but the handwriting of both ladies was 
 tremulous, and of antiquated fashion ; they 
 knew not the modern Italian hand. There 
 was in the Rules a professor in the art, and 
 an attempt was made to get lessons from him. 
 But he was already old and hastening to the 
 grave, which speedily closed over him ; his 
 hand shook, because he drank strong waters ; 
 his coat was stained with beer and punch ; 
 his wig smelt always of tobacco. 
 
 Mrs. Deborah undertook, as a beginning, to 
 teach the girl book-keeping by single and 
 double entry. How or Avhy she ever came to 
 learn this science has never been understood. 
 Yet she knew it, and was proud of it. 
 
 ' It is a science,' she said, ' which controls 
 the commerce of the world. By its means 
 are we made rich; by the aid of book-keeping 
 we apportion the profit and the loss, which
 
 170 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 are the rewards of the prudent or the punish- 
 ment of the thriftless. Without book-keeping, 
 my dear, the mysteries and methods of which 
 I am about to impart to you, neither a 
 Whittington, nor a Gresham, nor even a 
 Pimpernel, would have risen to be Lord 
 Mayor of London.' 
 
 Kitty only imperfectly grasped the rudi- 
 ments of the science. No doubt, had she 
 been placed in a position of life where it was 
 required, she would have found it eminently 
 useful. Mrs. Esther, for her part, taught her 
 embroidery and sampler work. As for pre- 
 serving, pickling, making of pastry and home- 
 made whines, cookery, distilling, and so forth, 
 although the sisters had been in their younger 
 days notable, it was impossible to teach these 
 arts, because, even if there had been anything to 
 pickle or preserve, there was only one sitting- 
 room in wiiich to do it. Therefore, to her 
 jDresen sorrow, Kitty speedily forgot all that 
 she had formerly learned in the still-room at 
 Lady Levett's. For there is no station so 
 exalted in which a lady is not the better for 
 knowing the way in which such things should 
 be done, if it is only that she may keep her
 
 HO W KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 1 7 1 
 
 maids in order. And if, as the learned Dr. 
 Johnson hath informed us, a lady means one 
 who dispenses gifts of hospitality and kind- 
 ness, there is another reason why she should 
 know the value of her mfts. There is some- 
 
 o 
 
 thing diviDe in the contemplation of the 
 allotment of duty to the two sexes : man 
 must work, build up, invent, and acquire, for 
 woman to distribute, administer, and divide. 
 
 As for reading, they had a book on the 
 history of England, with the cover off, and 
 wanting the title-page with several chapters. 
 There was one of those still remaining in 
 which the author exhorted his readers (her 
 teachers told the girl that the admonition 
 belonc^ed to women as well as men) never to 
 grow faint or to weary in the defence of their 
 Liberties. She ignorantly confounded the 
 Liberties of the country with the Liberties of 
 the Fleet, and could not avoid the reflection 
 that a woman would certainly put more heart 
 into her defence of the Liberties if these 
 were cleaner, and if there were fewer men 
 who swore and got drunk. There were also 
 a Bible and a Church Prayer-book ; there 
 were three odd volumes of ' Sermons ;' and
 
 172 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 there were besides odd volumes of romances, 
 poems, and other works which Mr. Solomon 
 Stallabras was able to lend. 
 
 Mrs. Deborah added to her knowledge of 
 book-keeping some mastery over the sublime 
 science of astronomy. By standing on chairs 
 at the window when the west wiud blew the 
 fogs away and the sk}^ was clear, it w^as pos- 
 sible to learn nearly everything that she had 
 to teach. The moon was sometimes visible, 
 and a great many of the stars, ^because, look- 
 ing over the market, the space was wide. 
 Among them were the Pole Star, the Great 
 Bear, Orion's belt, and Cassiopeia's chair. 
 It was elevatiuof to the soul on such occa- 
 sions to watch the heavenly bodies, and to 
 listen while Mrs. Deborah discoursed on the 
 motions of the planets and the courses of the 
 stars. 
 
 ' The moon, my dear,' she would say, 
 ' originally hung in the heavens by the hand 
 of the Creator, goes regularly every four 
 weeks round the sue, while the sun goeth 
 daily round the earth : when the sun is be- 
 tween the earth and the moon (which happens 
 accidentally once a month or thereabouts),
 
 HO W KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 173 
 
 part of the latter body is eclipsed : wherefore 
 it is then of a crescent-shape : the earth itself 
 goes round something — I forget what — every 
 year : while the planets, according to Addi- 
 son's hymn, go once a year, or perhaps he 
 meant once a month, round the moon. This 
 is the reason why they are seen in different 
 positions in the sky. And I believe I am 
 right in saying that if you look steadily at 
 the Great Bear, you may plainly see that 
 every night it travels once about the earth 
 at least, or it may be oftener at different 
 seasons. When we reflect ' — here she quoted 
 from recollection — ' that these bodies are so 
 far distant from us, that we cannot measure the 
 space between ; that some of them are supposed 
 to be actually greater than our own world; that 
 they are probably inhabited by men and 
 women like ourselves ; that all their move- 
 ments round each other are regular, uniform, 
 never intermittent — how ought we to admire 
 the wisdom and strength of the Almighty 
 Hand which placed them there !' 
 
 Then she repeated, with becoming reve- 
 rence, the words of Mr. Addison, the Chris- 
 tian poet, beginning :
 
 174 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' Soon as the evening shades prevail 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 And nightly to the listening earth 
 Eepeats the story of her birth. 
 While all the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole.' 
 
 In such meditations and exercises did these 
 imprisoned ladies seek to raise their souls 
 above the miseries of their lot. Indeed, one 
 may think there is nothing which more tends 
 to make the mind contented and to prevent 
 repining, than to feel the vastness of nature, 
 the depths and height of knowledge open to 
 man's intellect, the smallness of one's self, and 
 the wisdom of God. And although poor 
 Mrs. Deborah's astronomy was, as has been 
 seen, a jumble ; although she knew so little, 
 indeed, of constellations or of planets, that 
 the child did not learn to distinguish Jupiter 
 from the Pole Star, and never could under- 
 stand (until that ingenious gentleman, who 
 lately exhibited an orrery in Piccadilly, taught 
 her) how the planets and stars could go round 
 the moon, and the moon round the sun, and 
 the sun round the earth, without knocking
 
 HO W KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 175 
 
 against and destroying one another, she 
 must be, and is, deeply grateful for the 
 thoughts which the good lady awakened. 
 
 In all things the sisters endeavoured to 
 keep up the habits and manners of gentle- 
 folk. The dinner was at times scanty, yet 
 Avas it served on a fair white cloth, with 
 plates and knives orderly placed : a grace 
 before the meat, and a grace after. 
 
 In the afternoon, when the ' dinner was 
 eaten, the cloth removed, and the plates 
 washed, they were able sometimes to sally 
 forth and take a walk. In the summer after- 
 noons it was, as has been said, pleasant to 
 walk to the gardens of Gray's Inn. But 
 when they ventured to pass through the 
 market there was great choice for them. The 
 daily service in the afternoons at St. Paul's 
 was close at hand : here, while the body was 
 refreshed with the coolness of the air, the 
 mind was calmed with the peace of the 
 church, and the soul elevated by the chant- 
 ing of the white-robed choristers and the 
 canons, while the organ echoed in the roof. 
 After the service they would linger among 
 the tombs, of which there are not many ;
 
 176 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 and read the famous Latin inscription over 
 the door of the cathedral, ' Si monumentum 
 requiris^ circumspice. ' 
 
 ' I knew him,' Mrs. Esther would whisper, 
 standing before the great man's monument. 
 * He was a friend of my father's, and he often 
 came and talked, my sister and myself being- 
 then but little, on the greatness of astronomy, 
 geometry, and architecture. In the latter 
 years of his life he would sit in the sunshine, 
 gazing on the noble cathedral he had built. 
 Yet, grand as it is, he would still lament that 
 his earlier plans, which were grander still, 
 had not been accepted.' 
 
 Then out into the noisy street again : back 
 to the shouts of chairmen, waggon-drivers, 
 coachmen, the bawling of those who cried up 
 and down pavements, the cries of flying 
 piemen, newsmen, boys with broadsheets, 
 dying confessions, and ballads — back to the 
 clamour of Fleet Market. 
 
 Another excursion, which could only be 
 undertaken when the days were long, was 
 that to Westminster Abbey. 
 
 The way lay along the Strand, which, when 
 the crowded houses behind St. Clement's and
 
 BO IV KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 177 
 
 St. Mary's were passed, Avas a wide and 
 pleasant thoroughfare, convenient for walk- 
 ing, occupied by stately palaces like North- 
 umberland and Somerset Houses, and by 
 great shops. At Charing Cross one might 
 cross over into Spring Gardens, where, Mrs. 
 Esther said, there Avas much idle talk among 
 young people, with drinking of Khenish 
 wine. Beyond the gardens was St. James's 
 Park : Kitty saw it once in those days, being 
 taken by Sir Miles Lackington ; but so 
 crowded was it with gallant gentlemen, whose 
 wigs and silken coats were a proper set-off to 
 the hoops and satins of the ladies, that she 
 w^as ashamed of her poor stuff frock, and 
 bade Sir Miles lead her away, which he did, 
 being that day sorrowful and in a repentant 
 mood. 
 
 ' I have myself worn those silk waistcoats 
 and that silver lace/ he said with a sigh. 
 ' My place should be among them now, were 
 it not for Hazard. Thy own fit station, 
 pretty pauper, is with those ladies. But 
 Heaven forbid you should learn what they 
 know ! Alas ! I knew not when I ought 
 to stop in the path of pleasure.' 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 * Fie !' said she. * Young men ought not 
 to find their pleasure in gambhng/ 
 
 * Humanity/ said Sir Miles, becoming more 
 cheerful when the Park was left, ' has with 
 one consent resolved to follow pleasure. The 
 reverend divines bid us (on Sunday) be content 
 \o forego pleasure ; in the week they, too, get 
 what pleasure they can out of a punch-bowl. I 
 am content to follow with other men. Come, 
 little Puritan, what is thy idea of pleasure ?' 
 
 That seemed simple enough to answer. 
 
 ' I would live in the country,' said she 
 readily, ^ away from this dreadful town ; I 
 would have enough money to drink tea 
 every day (of course I would have a good 
 dinner, too), and to buy books, to visit and 
 be visited, and make my ladies happy, and all 
 be gentlewomen together,' 
 
 ' And never a man among you all ?' 
 
 ' No — we should want no man. You men 
 do but eat, drink, devour, and waste. The 
 Pules are fall of unhappy women, ruined by 
 your extravagances. Go live all together, 
 and carry each other home at night, where 
 no woman can see or hear.' 
 
 He shook his head with a laugh, and an-
 
 HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 179 
 
 swered nothing. That same night, however, 
 he was led home at midnight, bawling some 
 drinking song at the top of his voice ; so 
 that the girl's admonition had no effect upon 
 him. Perhaps profligate men feel a j)leasure 
 not only in their intemperance but also in 
 repentance. It always seemed to me as if 
 Sir Miles enjoyed the lamentations of a 
 sinner the morning after a debauch. 
 
 On the few occasions when their journey was 
 prolonged beyond Charing Cross, the ladies 
 were generally attended and protected by 
 Mr. Solomon Stallabras, who, though little 
 in stature, was brave, and would have 
 cudgelled a porter, or cuffed a guardsman, 
 in the defence of ladies, as well as the 
 stronofest and biofofest crentleman. 
 
 There are many other things to see in 
 AVestminster Abbey — the coronation throne, 
 Henry the Seventh's Chapel, the monuments 
 of kings, queens, great lords, and noble gene- 
 rals — but Mr. Stallabras had an eye to one 
 spot only. 
 
 ' There/ he said, ' is the Poet's Corner : 
 with Dryden, Ben Jonson, and the glorious 
 dead of this spot, shall, perhaps, my ashes be 
 
 12—2
 
 i8o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 mixed. Ladies, immortality is the poet's 
 meed.' 
 
 The poor man needed some solace in these 
 days, when his poverty was excessive. Later 
 on he found a little success : obtained an order 
 for a volume of 'Travels in Cashmere' (whither 
 he had never been), which brought him in 
 eight guineas. He afterwards added * A Ko- 
 mantic Tale,' the scene of which was laid in 
 the same sweet abode of Sensibility. It was 
 interspersed with verses, as full of delicacy as 
 the tale itself. But the publisher, who gave 
 him ^NQ guineas for it, complained afterwards 
 that he had lost by his bargain. Mr. Stalla- 
 bras often boasted of the great things he 
 could do were there no publishers, and 
 regretted the invention of printing, which 
 rendered this class, who prey upon the very 
 vitals of poor poets, a necessity. 
 
 These holidays, these after-hours of rest in 
 the tranquil aisles of St. Paul's, or the awful 
 Gothic shades of Westminster, were far be- 
 tween. Mostly the three sat together over 
 their work, while the tumult raged below. 
 
 • Patience, child/ said Mrs. Deborah. 
 '• Patience awhile. We have borne it for nigh
 
 JIO^F KITTY SPENT HER TIME. i8r 
 
 thirty years. Can you, who have hope, not 
 bear it a Httle longer V 
 
 Said Mrs. Esther : ' Providence wisely 
 orders every event, so that each year or 
 each day shall add something to the educa- 
 tion of the soul. It is doubtless for some 
 wise purpose we have been kept in scarce- 
 ness among runagates and spendthrifts.' 
 
 On Sundays they generally went to the 
 church of St. Giles, Cripplegate. It was a 
 long way from the Rules, but the ladies liked 
 it because it was the church where their 
 father lay buried. From the place where 
 they sat in the seats of the poor, which 
 have neither cushions nor backs, they could 
 read the tablet to the memory of the late 
 Joshua Pimpernel, once Lord Mayor of 
 London, and Alderman of Portsoken Ward. 
 The great church was full of City memories, 
 dear to them from their childhood: when they 
 were girls they used to sit in a stately pew 
 with red serge seats and hassocks ; now, they 
 worshipped in the same church, but on the 
 benches among the poor women and the 
 children. Yet there was the same service, 
 with the rector and the clerk in their desks,
 
 i82 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 the schoolboys of the Charity along the left, 
 and the schoolgirls of the Chanty along the 
 right ; the beadles and vergers, the old 
 women who swept the church, opened the 
 pew doors, curtsied to the quality and re- 
 mained behind for doles — all brought back 
 their childhood. They were as poor themselves 
 as these old trots, but they could not stay 
 for doles. It is a large and handsome church, 
 filled Avith grave citizens, responsible men, 
 whose ventures are abroad on many seas, 
 respected for wealth and upright conduct, 
 good men and true, such as was, in his day, 
 my Lord Mayor Pimpernel himself; with 
 the citizens sit their wives bravely attired, 
 and their dauo^hters makino^ Q^allant show in 
 hoops, patches, lace, sarsnet and muslin. 
 Outside the church a graveyard, piled and 
 full, still with a tree or two upon it, whose 
 boughs in June are covered with bright green 
 leaves, among which the sparrows twitter and 
 fly about. There is also a great round tower 
 of antique look, which once had been part of 
 the Eoman wall of London. 
 
 Here they went to worship. When the 
 minister came to the words in the Litany —
 
 no IF KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 183 
 
 * Lord have mercy upon all imsoncrs and captives^* 
 the sisters would catch each other by the 
 hand, and audibly follow the reader in 
 prayer as well as response. For thirty years, 
 for fifty-two Sundays in each year, they had 
 made that prayer in the same words, for most 
 of the time in the same church. Yet what 
 answer ? 
 
 Kitty took the prayer, presently, for her- 
 self as well. If these ladies were prisoners, 
 why, what was she ? If they might not sleep 
 abroad, and only walk in the streets by per- 
 mission and license of the law, how was she 
 different from them, since she could not, being 
 but a maid, and young and penniless, go abroad 
 at all without them or some other protection ? 
 
 The sight of the leaves in the trees outside ; 
 the fluttering and flying of the sparrows, now 
 and then the buzzing of a foolish bee who had 
 found his way into the church, carried the 
 girl's thoughts away to the quiet place in the 
 country where, between Hall and Vicarage, 
 she had been brought up. Would the sweet 
 country never more be seen '? Was her life to 
 be, like that of these poor ladies, one long 
 prison among reprobates and profligates '?
 
 1 84 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 The summer came on apace : it grew hot 
 in June ; in July it was so hot that they were 
 fain to sit all day and to sleep all night, with 
 open windows. The air was cooler, perhaps, 
 at night, but it was laden with the odours of 
 decaying cabbages, trodden peas and beans, 
 rotten strawberries, bruised cherries, broken 
 gooseberries, with the nauseous breath of the 
 butcher's stall, and the pestilential smell of the 
 poulterer's shop. Moreover, they could not but 
 hear the oaths and ribaldries of those who sat 
 and lounged about the market, staying in the 
 open air because it was warm and because 
 it was cheap. The bulkheads, bunks, booths, 
 stalls, and counters of the market were free 
 and open to the world : a log of wood for a 
 pillow, a hard plank for a bed ; this was the 
 reward of a free and lawless life. On most 
 nights it seemed best to lie with windows 
 closed and endure the heat. Yet closed win- 
 dows could not altogether keep out the noise, 
 for on these summer niaiits all the knaves and 
 thieves unhung in this great town seemed to 
 be gathered here, pleased to be all together, a 
 Parliament of rogues, under the j)ent-houses 
 and on the stalls of the market. And as
 
 HO IV KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 185 
 
 in some Koman Catholic countries nuns and 
 monks maintain a perpetual adoration to the 
 Blessed Virgin, whom they ignorantly worship, 
 so did these reprobates maintain a perpetual 
 litany of ribaldry and foul conversation. It 
 never ceased. When one grew tired he lay 
 down and slept : his friends carried on the 
 talk ; the drinking-booths were open all night 
 long, so that those who talked might slake 
 their thirst, and if any waked and felt thirsty 
 he too might have a drain and so lie down 
 again. Dav and nii2rht there was a never- 
 ending riot : the ladies, as the hot days con- 
 tinued, grew thinner and paler, but they bore 
 it patiently ; they had borne it for thirty 
 years. 
 
 Between two and three in the morning 
 there generally came a little respite ; most of 
 the brawlers w^ere then asleep, drunk, or tired 
 out ; only at corners, where there was drink 
 to be had, men and women still gathered 
 together, talking and joking. At four, or 
 thereabouts, the market-carts began to arrive, 
 and noise of another kind began. 
 
 One morning in July Kitty awoke — it was 
 a hot and close night — just when all the
 
 1 86 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 City clocks were striking three ; it was broad 
 daylight ; she sprang from bed, and drawing 
 the blind aside a little, looked out upon the 
 market below and the City around. In the 
 clear and cloudless air, before the new day 
 had charged it with a fresh covering or head- 
 piece of smoke, she saw the beautiful spires of 
 St. Bride's, St. Dunstan's, St. Andrew's, St. 
 Mary's and St. Clement's rising one beyond 
 the other into the clear blue sky, their 
 weathercocks touched by the morning sun; 
 on the south, over the river, were visible the 
 green hills of Surrey, the sun shining on 
 their hanging woods, as plain as if they were 
 half a mile away. On the north there were 
 the low hills of Highgate, Hampstead, and 
 Hornsey, the paradise of cits, and yet places 
 most beautiful, wooded and retired. Every- 
 where, north, west, and south, spires of 
 churches rising up to the heavens, as if 
 praying for the folk beneath. And under 
 her eyes, the folk themselves ! 
 
 They were human ruins of the past, the 
 present, and the future. 
 
 Old men were among them who lay with 
 curled-up limbs, shaking with cold, warm
 
 HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 187 
 
 though the night was^ and old women, huddled 
 up in scanty petticoats, lying with tremulous 
 lips and clasped hands. The cheeks both 
 of the old men and the old women were 
 swollen with drink. What was the record of 
 their lives ? Some of them had been rog^ues 
 and vagabonds from the very first, though 
 how they managed to scape the gallows 
 would be hard to tell. Doubtless their backs 
 were well scarred with the fustigations of the 
 alderman's whip, and they could remember 
 the slow tread of the cart behind Avhich they 
 had marched from Newgate to Tyburn, the 
 cruel cat falling at every step upon their 
 naked and bleeding shoulders. Yet what 
 help ? They must starve or they must steal; 
 and, being taken, they must be hanged or 
 must be flogged. 
 
 Why, these poor old men and poor old 
 women should, had they not missed the 
 meaning of their lives, have been sitting in 
 high places, Avith the state and reverence due 
 to honoured age, with the memory of a life 
 well fought, hung with chains of gold, draped 
 with cloth of silver and lace. Yet they were 
 here, crouched in this filthy, evil-smelling
 
 1 88 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 place, eyes shut, backs bent, lips trembling, 
 cheeks twitchinsf, and minds hardened to 
 iniquity. Did any of them, perchance, re- 
 member how one who knew declared that 
 never had he seen the righteous forsaken or 
 the good man beg his bread ? 
 
 A dreadful shivering seized the girl. What 
 plank of safety, what harbour of refuge was 
 open to her that she too might escape this 
 fate % What assurance had she that her end 
 might not be like unto the end of these ? 
 Truly none, save that faith by which, as 
 Paul hath taught, the only way to heaven 
 itself is opened. 
 
 Then there wxre young men with red and 
 swollen faces, thieves and vagabonds by pro- 
 fession, who found the air of the market more 
 pleasant than that of Turnmill or Chick 
 Street. Yet it w^as an ominous and sus- 
 picious place to sleep in ; a place full of bad 
 dreams for thieves, criminals, and debtors, 
 since close at hand was the Fleet Prison, its 
 w^ards crowded with the careless, wdio 
 lounged and jested, and the hopeless, who 
 sat in despair ; since but a hundred yards 
 from them stood the black and gloomy New-
 
 IIOJV KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 189 
 
 gate, its condemned cells full of wretches^ no 
 Avorse than themselves, waiting to be hanged, 
 its courts full of other wretches, no worse 
 than themselves, waiting to be tried, sen- 
 tenced, and cast for execution, and its gaol- 
 fever hanging over all alike, delivering the 
 wards from their prisoners, cheating the 
 hangman, hurrying to death judge, jury, 
 counsel, prisoner, and warders together. But 
 they never think upon such things, these 
 poor rogues ; each hopes that while his 
 neighbour is hanged, he will escajDe. They 
 cannot stop to think, tbey cannot turn back : 
 behind them is the devil driving them down- 
 wards ; before them, if they dare to lift their 
 eyes, the horrid machinery of justice with 
 pillory, whip, and gallows. Among them, 
 here and there, pretty boys and girls, lying 
 asleep side by side upon the hard wooden 
 stalls ; boys with curly hair and rosy faces, 
 girls with long eyelashes, parted lips, and 
 ruddy cheeks — pity, pity, that when they 
 woke they should begin again the only trade 
 they knew : to thieve, filch, and pick pockets, 
 with the reward of ducking, pumping, flogging, 
 and hanging.
 
 iQo THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 So clear was the air, so bright the morn- 
 ing, that what she saw was impressed upon 
 her memory clearly, so that she can never 
 foro'et it. The old men and old women are 
 dead ; the young men and women are, one 
 supposes, hanged; what else could be their 
 fate ? And as for the boys and girls, the 
 little rogues and thieves, who had no con- 
 science and took all, except the whippings, for 
 frolic, are any left still to sleep on hot nights 
 in that foul place, or are all hanged, whipped 
 at the cart-tail, burnt in the hand, or at best, 
 transported to labour under the lash in the 
 plantations ? 
 
 Sinner succeeds unto sinner as the year 
 follows year ; the crop of gallows fruit in- 
 creases day by day ; but the criminals do not 
 seem to become fewer.
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 HOW THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE MADE TWO WOMEN 
 PRISONERS. 
 
 One Sunday evening in the autumn, the 
 market being then quiet, the two ladies and 
 the girl sat round a fire of coal, talking 
 together by its light. The memories of the 
 sisters, by some accident, were carried back 
 to the past, and they told the child the story, 
 of which she already knew a part, how by a 
 great and crying injustice of the law, they 
 had been shut up in prison, for no fault of 
 their own, for nearly thirty years. 
 
 * My father's eyes,' said Mrs. Deborah, 
 looking at the portrait over the fireplace, 
 * seem to rest upon me to-night.' 
 
 Mrs. Esther shuddered.
 
 192 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 * It is a sign, sister,' she said, ' that some- 
 thing will happen to us.' 
 
 Mrs. Deborah laughed a little bitterly. I 
 thought afterwards that the laugh was like 
 that of Sarai, because a thing did happen to 
 her, as will presently be seen. 
 
 ' Nothing,' she said, ' will happen to you 
 and to me any more, Esther, except more 
 pain and more starvation.' 
 
 ^Patience, Deborah,' sighed Mrs. Esther. 
 * We who have borne our captivity for nine- 
 and-twenty years ' 
 
 ' And seven months,' said her sister. 
 
 ' Can surely bear it a little longer.' 
 
 * We were girls when we came here,' said 
 Mrs. Deborah ; ^ girls who might have had 
 lovers and become mothers of brave sons — 
 not that you, Kitty, should let your thoughts 
 run on such matters. But there are no honest 
 lovers for honest girls in the Rules of the 
 Fleet.' 
 
 ' Lovers !' echoed Mrs. Esther, Avith a 
 heavy sigh. ' Mothers I with sons ! Ah, 
 no ! not for us.' 
 
 'We are old women now, sister. Well, 
 everything is short that hath an end. Let
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 193 
 
 us take comfort. To earthly prison is a 
 certain end appointed.' 
 
 ' We came to the gaol, sister,' continued 
 Mrs. Esther ; ^ two girls, weeping, hand-in- 
 hand. Poor girls ! poor girls ! My heart 
 bleeds to think of them, so young and so 
 innocent.' 
 
 ^ We shall go out of it,' said her sister, 
 ' with tears of joy. They shall write upon 
 our tombstones, '^ These sisters thank God 
 for death." ' 
 
 ' What fault, we asked — ah ! Deborah, how 
 often we asked it ! — w4iat fault had we 
 committed ? For what sin or crime of ours 
 did this ruin fall upon us f 
 
 ' I ask it still,' said Deborah the impatient. 
 ' I ask it every day. How can they call this 
 a land of justice, Avhen tw^o innocent women 
 can be locked up for life 1' 
 
 * My sister, we may not kick against the 
 pricks. If laws are unjust they must be 
 changed, not disobeyed.' 
 
 Mrs. Deborah replied by a gesture of im- 
 patience. 
 
 ^ We were blessed with parents,' said Mrs. 
 Esther, half talking to herself, half to me, 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 T94 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ^ whose worth and piety were as eminent as 
 their lofty positions in the city. Our respected 
 father was Lord Mayor in the year 1716, when, 
 with our esteemed mother, "who was by birth a 
 Balchin, and the grand-daughter of Sir Row- 
 land Balchin,also once Lord Mayor, he bad the 
 honour of entertaining his Highness Prince 
 George of Denmark. We were present at 
 that royal banquet in the gallery. Our father 
 
 was also, of course, an alderman ' 
 
 ^ Of Porfcsoken Ward,' said Mrs. Deborah. 
 
 * And Worshipful Master of the Company 
 of Armour Scourers.' 
 
 ' And churchwarden of St. Dionis Back- 
 church,' said Mrs. Deborah. 
 
 * Which he beautified, adding a gallery at 
 his own expense.' 
 
 ^ And where, in 1718, a tablet was placed in 
 the wall to his memory/ added Mrs. Deborah. 
 
 * And one to the memory of Esther, his 
 wife,' continued the elder sister, ^ who died in 
 the year 1719, so that we, being still minors, 
 unfortunately became wards of a merchant, 
 an old and trusted friend of our father.' 
 
 ' A costly friend he proved to us,' said 
 Mrs. Deborah.
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE, 195 
 
 * Nay, sister, blame him not. Perhaps he 
 thought to multiply our fortunes tenfold. Then 
 came the year of 1720, when, by visitation of 
 the Lord, all orders and conditions of men went 
 mad, and we, like thousands of others, lost 
 our little all, and from rich heiresses of 
 twenty thousand pounds a piece — such, 
 Kitty, was then our enviable condition — be- 
 came mere beo^o^ar-oirls.' 
 
 ' Worse,' said Mrs. Deborah, grimly. 
 ' Beggar-wenches are not in debt ; they may 
 go and lay their heads where they please.' 
 
 ^ We were debtors, but to whom I know 
 not ; we owed a large sum of money, but how 
 much I know not ; nor have ever been able 
 to understand how our guardian ruined us, 
 with himself I was twenty-two, and my 
 sister twenty- one ; we were of age ; no one 
 could do anything for us ; needs must we 
 come to the Fleet and be lodged in prison.' 
 
 ' Esther !' cried her sister, shuddering ; 
 ' must we tell her all X 
 
 ' My child,' continued Mrs. Esther, ' we 
 suffered at first more than we dare to tell 
 you. There was then in charge of the prison 
 a wretch, a murderer, a man whose sins 
 
 13—2
 
 196 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 towards me I have, I hope, forgiven, as is my 
 Christian duty. But his sins towards my 
 sister I can never forgive ; no, never. It is 
 not, I beheve,' she said with more asperity 
 than I had ever before remarked in her — ' it 
 cannot be expected of any Christian woman 
 that she should forgive in a wricked man his 
 wickedness to others.' 
 
 ^ That is my case,' said Mrs. .Deborah. 
 ' The dreadful cruelties of Bambridge, so far 
 as I am concerned, are forgiven. I cannot, 
 however, forgive those he inflicted upon you, 
 Esther. And I never mean to.' 
 
 This seemed at the moment an edifying 
 example of obedience to the divine law. 
 Afterwards the girl wondered whether any 
 person was justified in nourishing hatred 
 against another. And as to that, Bam- 
 bridge was dead ; he had committed suicide ; 
 he had gone wdiere no human hate could 
 harm him. 
 
 Everyone knows that this man must have 
 been a most dreadful monster. He was the 
 tenant, so to speak, of the prison, and paid so 
 much a year for the privilege of extorting 
 what money he could from the unfortunate
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 197 
 
 debtors. He made them pay commitment 
 fees, lodofino' fees, and fees of all kinds, so 
 that the very entrance to the prison cost a 
 poor wretch sometimes more than forty 
 pounds. He took from the two ladies all the 
 money they had, to the last guinea ; he 
 threatened them with the same punishment 
 which he (illegally) inflicted on the un- 
 fortunate men ; he would, he said, clap them 
 in irons, set them in tubs, put them in the 
 strong-room, which was a damp and dark and 
 filthy dungeon, not fit for a Turk ; he kept 
 their lives in continual terror of some new 
 misery : they had ever before their eyes the 
 spectacle of his cruelties to Captain Mac- 
 Pheadrid, whom he lamed ; Captain Sinclair, 
 whom he confined until his memory was lost 
 and the use of his limbs ; Jacob Mendez, 
 whom he kept locked up till he gave up 
 his uttermost farthing ; and Sir William 
 Kich, whom he slashed with a hanger and 
 beat with sticks because he could not pay 
 his lodofino\ 
 
 And as everyone knows, Bambridge was 
 at last turned out through the exertions of 
 General Oglethorpe.
 
 198 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 * And how can I forget the generous band, 
 "Who, touched with human woe, redressive searched 
 Into the horrors of the gloomy gaol ]' 
 
 ^We endured these miseries,' continued 
 Mrs. Esther, ' for four years, when our cousin 
 was able to go security and pay the fees for 
 us to leave the dreadful place and enjoy the 
 Rules. Here, at least, we have some liberty, 
 though we must live among scenes of rude- 
 ness, and see and hear daily a thousand 
 things Avhich a gentlewoman should be able 
 to escape and forget. Our cousin/ she went 
 on, after a pause, ' is not rich, and is able to do 
 little for us : he sends us from time to time, 
 out of his poverty, something for our neces- 
 sities : out of this we have paid our rent, and 
 being able sometimes to do some sewing- 
 work, we have lived, though but poorly. 
 Two women want but little : a penny will 
 purchase a dish of broth.' 
 
 ' It is not the poverty we lament,' said Mrs. 
 Deborah, ^it is the j)lace wherein we live.' 
 
 ' Then,' Mrs. Esther went on, ' Heaven 
 sent us a friend. My dear, be it known to 
 you, that had it not been for the doctor, we 
 had, ere now, been starved. He it was who
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 199 
 
 found us in hunger and cold : he fed us, 
 clothed us, and warmed us.' 
 
 ^ To us, at least, he will always be the best 
 of men,' said Mrs. Deborah. 
 
 ' More than that, sister ; he hath brought 
 us this child to be our joy and comfort : 
 though God in His mercy forbid that your 
 young days should all be wasted in this 
 wicked place, which surely is the very 
 mouth ' 
 
 Here they were interrupted by an uproar in 
 the street below us : a bawling and bellowing 
 of many men : they were bringing home the 
 baronet, who was already drunk. Among the 
 voices Kitty heard, and hung her head with 
 shame, the tones of her uncle, as clear and 
 sonorous as the great bell of St. Paul's. 
 
 They said nothing for a space. When all 
 was quiet again, and the brawlers had with- 
 drawn, Mrs. Esther spoke in her gentle way. 
 
 'A man's life doth, doubtless, seem to 
 himself different from what he seems to the 
 women who know him. We know not his 
 moments of repentance, his secret prayers, 
 or his temptations. Men are stronger than 
 women, and they are also Aveaker : their
 
 200 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 virtues are nobler : their vices are more 
 conspicuous. We must not judge, but 
 continue to think the best. I was saying, 
 my dear, when we were interrupted by the 
 brawhng of Sabbath-breakers, that your 
 uncle, the worthy doctor, is the most kind- 
 hearted and generous of men. For all that 
 he has done to us, three poor and defenceless 
 women, we have nothing to give in return 
 but our prayers. Let us give him these, at 
 least. May the Lord of all goodness and 
 mercy reward him, strengthen him, and 
 forgive him whatever frailties do beset him !'
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW THE DOCTOR WAS AT HOME TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 If it be true (which doubtless will be 
 denied by no one) that women are fond of 
 changing their fashions and of pranking 
 themselves continually in some new^ finery, it 
 is certainly no less true that men — I mean 
 young ones — are for ever changing their 
 follies as well as their fashions. The follies 
 of old men — who ought to be grave, in con- 
 templation of the next world — seem to remain 
 the same : some of them practise gluttony : 
 some love the bottle : some of them the green 
 table : some, even more foolish, pretend to 
 renew their youth and counterfeit a passion 
 for our sex. As for the fashions of the 
 young men, one year it is the cocking of a 
 hat, the next it is the colour of a waistcoat,
 
 202 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 the cut of a skirt, the dressing of a wig, the 
 ribbon behind must be lengthened or reduced, 
 the foretop must stick up hke a horn one 
 year and he flat the next, the curls must be 
 amplified till a man looks like a monstrous 
 ram^ or reduced till he resembles a monkey 
 who has been shaved ; the sAvord must have 
 hilt and scabbard of the fashionable shape, 
 which changes every year ; it must be worn 
 at a certain angle ; the rule about the breadth 
 of the ruffle or the length of the skirt must 
 be observed. So that, even as regards their 
 fashions, the men are even with the women. 
 Where we cannot vie with them is in the 
 fashion of their amusements, in which they 
 change for ever, and more rapidly than we 
 change the colour of a ribbon. One season 
 Hanelagh is the vogue, the next Vauxhall ; 
 the men were, for a year or two, bitten by 
 that strange madness of scouring the streets 
 by night, upsetting constables, throwing 
 pence against window-panes, chasing belated 
 and peaceful passengers, shouting and bellow- 
 ing, waking from sleep timid and helpless 
 women and children. Could one devise a 
 braver and more noble amusement ? Another
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 203 
 
 time there was the mischievous practice of 
 man-hunting. It was thought the work of a 
 fine fellow, a lad of spirit, to lie hidden, with 
 other lads of spirit, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
 or some such quiet place, behind the bushes, 
 until there might pass by some unfortunate 
 wretch, alone and unprotected. Then would 
 they spring to their feet, shouting, ' That's 
 he ! that's he ! after him, boys !' and pursue 
 the poor man through the streets with drawn 
 swords and horrid cries, until, half dead, he 
 rushed into some tavern or place of refuge. 
 As for actors, singers, or dancers, they take 
 them iip for a season, and then abandon them 
 for no merit or fault in them whatever ; one 
 day they are all for Church, and the next 
 they applaud Orator Henley ; one day they 
 shout for Nancy Dawson, and the next for 
 Garrick ; one day they are Whig and the 
 next Tory ; one year they brandish thick 
 clubs, wear heavy greatcoats with triple 
 capes, swear, drink porter, and go like 
 common coachmen ; the next, with amber 
 canes, scented gloves, laced ruffles, flowered 
 silk waistcoats, skirts extended like a woman's 
 hooped petticoat, they amble along as if the
 
 2 04 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 common air was too coarse for them, mince 
 their words, are shocked at coarse language, 
 and can drink nothing less fine than Khenish 
 or Champagne, though the latter be seven 
 shillings and sixpence a flask ; and as for 
 their walk, they go on tip-toe like a city 
 madam trying to look like a gentlewoman. 
 The next year, again, they are all for Hockley- 
 in-the-Hole and bear-baiting. This year, 
 the fashion was for a short space, and among 
 such as could get taken there, to spend the 
 evenings in the E-ules of the Fleet, where, 
 the bloods of the town had discovered, was 
 to be found excellent company for such as 
 liked to pay for it, among those who had 
 been spent and ruined in the service of fashion, 
 gaming, and gallantry. 
 
 There are plenty of taverns and houses of 
 call in London where a gentleman may not 
 only call for what he pleases to order, but 
 may also be diverted by the jests aDcl songs 
 of some debauched, idle fellow who lies and 
 lops about all day, doing no work and earning 
 no money, but in the evening is ready to 
 sing and make merriment for a bowl of 
 punch. This rollicking, roaring blade, the
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 205 
 
 lad of mettle, was once a gentleman, perhaps, 
 or a companion to gentlemen. To him 
 nature, intending her worst, hath given a 
 reckless temperament, an improvident brain, 
 a merry laugh, a musical voice, a genius for 
 mimicry, of which gifts he makes such ex- 
 cellent use that they generally lead him to 
 end his days in such a position. Men need 
 not, for certain, go to Fleet Market to find' 
 these buffoons. 
 
 Yet, within the Rules, there was an extra- 
 ordinary number of these careless vagabonds 
 always ready to enjoy the present hour could 
 some friend be found to pay the shot. In 
 the morning they roamed the place, leaned 
 acrainst bulkheads, sat in doorwavs, or hid 
 themselves within doors, dejected, repentant, 
 full of gloomy anticipations ; in the evening 
 their old courage came back to them, they 
 were again jocund, light-hearted, the oracle 
 of the tavern, the jester and Jack-pudding of 
 the feast, pouring out songs from the collec- 
 tions of Tom D' IJrfey, and jokes from Browne 
 and Ned Ward. 
 
 Many of the taverns, the Bishop Blaize, 
 for example, and the Bainbow, kept one or
 
 2o6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 two of these fellows in their regular employ. 
 They gave them dinner, with, as soon as the 
 guests arrived in the evening, liberty to call 
 for what they pleased. If the visitors treated 
 them, so much the better for the house ; but 
 there were, however, conditions, unwritten 
 but understood : they were never to be sad, 
 never grave, never to show the least signs of 
 repentance, reflection, or shame ; and they 
 were not to get drunk early in the evening, 
 or before the better sort of visitors, whose 
 entertainment they were to provide. Shame- 
 ful condition ! shameful servitude, for man 
 (who hath a soul to think of) to obey ! 
 
 One has to confess with shame that among 
 the tavern buffoons, the professional Tom Fools 
 of the Fleet, were several of those clergymen 
 whose trade it was to make rash couples 
 wretched for life. This peculiarity, not to be 
 found elsewhere, provided, perhaps, a novelty 
 in vice which for a time made the Kules a 
 favourite resort of men about town : the know- 
 ledge that the man who without a rag left of the 
 gravity belonging to his profession, laughed, 
 sang, and acted for the amusement of all 
 comers, should have borne himself as a grave
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME, 207 
 
 and reverend divine, gave point to his jest 
 and added music to his song. It is not every 
 day that one sees a merry-andrew in full- 
 bottomed wig, bands, and flowing gown; it is 
 not in every tavern that one finds the Reve- 
 rend James Lands dancing a hornpipe in 
 clogs, or the Reverend William Flood bawl- 
 ing a comic song wdiile he grins through a 
 horse-collar. Xor could the wits find at the 
 coffee-houses of St. James's or Covent 
 Garden, or at any ordinary place of amuse- 
 ment, a clergyman at the head of the table 
 rufflino: it with the best — albeit with tattered 
 gown and shabby wig — ready with jest more 
 profane, wit more irreverent, song and story 
 more profligate^ than any of the rest. 
 
 As for Dr. Shovel, it must not be sup- 
 posed that he was to be found in any of these 
 places. 
 
 ^ What !' he was wont to cry, '■ should a 
 man of reputation, a scholar whose Latin 
 verses have been the delight of bishops and 
 the pride of his college, a clergyman of 
 dignity and eloquence, condescend to take 
 the pay of a common vintner, make merriment 
 for the company of a mughouse, hobnob with a
 
 2oS THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 tradesmen's club, play buffoon for a troop of 
 Templars, and crack jests for any ragamuffin 
 prentice with half-a-crown to call for a 
 bottle ? No, sir ! The man who would know 
 Dr. Gregory Shovel must seek him in his own 
 house, where, as a gentleman and a scholar, 
 he receives such as may be properly introduced 
 on every night of the year — Sundays ex- 
 cepted, when he takes his drink, for the most 
 part, alone.' 
 
 In fact, his house was the chief attraction 
 of the Rules ; but access was only granted 
 to those who were brought b}^ his friends. 
 Once introduced, however, a man was free of 
 the house, and might not only come again as 
 often as he pleased, but bring other friends. 
 Now, as men prize most that which is least 
 easy to procure, whether they want it or not, 
 it became a distinction to have this right of 
 spending the evening in the Fleet Market. 
 A fine distinction, truly ! 
 
 Those, however, who went there were not 
 unlikely to find themselves among a goodly 
 assemblao^e of wits and men of fashion. The 
 doctor played the host with the dignity of a 
 bishop, and the hospitality of a nobleman ;
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 209 
 
 chairs were set around the table, in that room 
 where he performed his daily marriages ; those 
 who came late could stand or send for a bench 
 from the market; Koger and William, the two 
 clerks, were in attendance to go and fetch the 
 punch which the doctor or his guests provided 
 for the entertainment of all. Tobacco was 
 on the table ; the doctor was in the chair, his 
 long pipe in his mouth, his great head leaning 
 back, his eyes rolling as he talked, before him 
 his glass of punch. He was no buffoon ; he 
 did not cut capers, nor did he dance, nor 
 did he sing Tom D'Urfey's songs, nor did ho 
 quote Ned AYard's jokes. If the company 
 laughed, it was at one of his own stories, and 
 when he sang, the w^ords were such as might 
 have been heard in any gentlewoman's parlour, 
 and the music was Arne's, Bull's, Lilly's, or 
 Carey's. E-ound him were poets, authors, 
 scholars, law^yers, country gentlemen, and 
 even grave merchants ; some of them Avere 
 out at elbows, threadbare, and sometimes 
 hungry, but they were as welcome as the 
 richer sort who paid for the punch. The 
 younger men came to listen to one who was 
 notorious for his impudent defiance of the 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2 TO THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 law, and was reported to possess excellent 
 gifts of conversation and of manner. The 
 elder men came to look upon a man un- 
 abashed in his disgrace, wdiom they had 
 known the favourite of the town. 
 
 ^ All the world,' Sir Miles Lackington told 
 me, ^ ran after Dr. Shovel when he was a 
 young man and evening lecturer at St. 
 Martin's-in-the-Fields ; never was clergyman 
 more popular in the world or in the pulpit ; 
 what was to be looked for when such a young 
 man spent his morning Avith great ladies, who 
 cried, ^' Oh, sweet sir ! oh, reverend sir ! 
 how eloquent, how gracious are your words 1" 
 but that he should see within reach promise 
 of preferment, and run into debt to maintain 
 a fine appearance and a fine lodging '?' 
 
 The fine ladies had gone ofi" after other 
 favourite divines ; their promises were for- 
 gotten ; they had listened to other voices as 
 musical, and bowed their heads before other 
 divines as pious. The debts were unpaid — 
 the doctor in the Rules. He possessed no 
 longer the wonderful comeliness with which 
 he had stolen away the hearts of women, he 
 preached no more in any pulpit ; but his old
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 211 
 
 dignity was left, with his eloquence and his 
 wit. He who had charmed women now 
 attracted men. 
 
 ' Fie !' he would say ; ' remind me not of 
 that time. I was once the pet and play- 
 thing of ladies, a sort of lapdog to be carried 
 in their coaches : a lackey in a cassock, with 
 my little store of compliments, pretty sayino^s, 
 and polite maxims : my advice on patches, 
 powder, and Eau de Chypre : my family 
 prayers : my grace before meat : my sermons 
 on divine right and the authority of the 
 Church ; and my anecdotes to make my lady 
 laugh and take the cross looks out of little 
 miss's dimpled cheeks. And, gentlemen, 
 withal a needy curate, a poor starveling, a 
 pauper with never a guinea, and a troop of 
 debts which would not disgrace a peer. 
 
 ' Whereas,' he w^ould continue, ' here I live 
 free of duns and debt : the countesses may 
 go hang : I look for no more patrons : I ex- 
 pect no beggarly preferment ; I laugh at my 
 ease, while my creditors bark but cannot 
 bite.^ 
 
 To those who objected that in former times 
 he preached to the flock, and that his elo- 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 quence was now as good as lost to the Church, 
 he repHed that, as Chaplain of the Fleet, he 
 preached daily, whereas formerly he had 
 preached but once a week, which was a clear 
 gain for righteousness. 
 
 ' What I would you have me send forth 
 my newly married lambs without a word of 
 exhortation beyond the rubric ? Nay, sir ; 
 that were to throw away the gift of speech, 
 and to lose a golden occasion. None leave 
 my chapel- of- ease unless fortified and ex- 
 horted to virtue by such an admonition as 
 they have never before enjoyed/ 
 
 One evening in October, when the summer 
 was over and the autumn already set in, the 
 doctor sat as usual in his arm-chair. Before 
 him stood his tobacco-box, and beside it lay 
 his pipe. As yet, for it was but eight o'clock, 
 there was no punch. Four great wax candles 
 stood lighted on the table, and in the door- 
 Avay were the two impudent varlets, Avhom 
 he called his clerks, leaning against the posts, 
 one on either hand. 
 
 There was but one visitor as yet. He was 
 a young Templar, almost a boy, pale and 
 thhi because of his late hours and his excesses.
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 213 
 
 And the doctor was admonishing him, being 
 at the time in a mood of repentance, or rather 
 of virtue. 
 
 ' Young man/ he said, ' I have observed 
 thee, and made inquiry among thy friends 
 regarding thy conduct, which resembles, at 
 present, that of the prodigal son while revel- 
 ling in his prodigality. Learn from this 
 place and the wretches who are condemned 
 to live in it, the end of profligacy. What 
 the words of Solomon have hitherto been 
 powerless to teach, let the Chaplain of the 
 Fleet enforce. The wellspring of wisdom is 
 as a flowing: brook, savs the Wise Man. Yet 
 ye drink not of that stream. Also he saith 
 that Wisdom crieth at the gates, at the entry 
 of the city. But ye regard not. He hath 
 told ye how the young man, void of under- 
 standing, falls continually into the pit of 
 destruction. But ye heed not. The drunkard 
 and the glutton, he hath declared, shall come 
 to poverty. Ye listen not, but continue to 
 eat and to drink. Wherefore, young man, 
 look around thee and behold this place. We 
 who are here sit among wine-bibbers and 
 spendthrifts : we have not in our comings
 
 214 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 and goings — but, alas ! we never go — any 
 gracious paths of pleasantness : we go never 
 among the meadows to breathe the air of 
 buttercu|)s and to ponder on the divine 
 wisdom : we Hsten perpetually to the cackle 
 of fools, the braying of asses, whom we could 
 indeed wish to be wild and on their native 
 Asiatic plains ; and the merriment of mad- 
 men, which is like unto the crackling of 
 thorns beneath the pot : w^e have — -though 
 our sins are multitudinous as the moments — 
 no time nor opportunity for repentance : and 
 even if we did repent, there is no way out 
 for us, no escape at all, but still we must 
 remain among;" the wicked until we die. Even 
 the Christian priest, who finds himself (through 
 thoughtlessness over money matters, being 
 continually occupied with higher things) 
 brought hither, must leave the ways which are 
 right, and cleave unto those which are wrong. 
 It is only by lying, bullying, and swearing, 
 that money (by which we live) is drawn here 
 out of the purses of silly and unwary people. 
 Granted that we draw it. What boots it if 
 one's rogues bring in a hundred couples in a 
 month ? The guineas melt away like snow
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 215 
 
 in tlie sunshine^ and nothing remains but the 
 evil memory of the sins by which they were 
 gotten/ 
 
 The Templar, astonished at such a sermon 
 from such a man, hung his head abashed. 
 He came to drink and be merry, and lo ! an 
 exhortation to virtue. While the doctor was 
 yet speaking, there came a second visitor — 
 no other than Mr. Stallabras, the poet, who 
 came, his head erect, his hand thrust in his 
 bosom, as if fresh from an interview with the 
 Muses. The doctor regarded him for a mo- 
 ment, as one in a pulpit might regard a late- 
 comer who disturbed his sermon, and went on 
 with his discourse : 
 
 ' This is a place, young man, where gnash- 
 ing of teeth may be heard day and night by 
 him who has ears to hear, and who knows 
 that the sounds of riot and merriment are but 
 raised to drown despair : to him every song 
 is a throb of agony, every jest rings in his 
 ears like a cry of remorse : we are in a prison, 
 though we seem to be free ; we are laid by 
 the heels, though we are said to enjoy the 
 Liberties of the Fleet ; we live and breathe 
 like our fellows, but we have no hope for the
 
 2t6 the chaplain OF THE FLEET. 
 
 rest of our lives ; we go not forth, though 
 the doors are open ; we are hving monuments,, 
 that fooHsh youth may learn by our luckless 
 fate to avoid the courses which have brought 
 us hither. Wherefore, young men, beware I 
 Discite justitiam moniti.' 
 
 He paused awhile, and then continued : 
 ' Yet we should not be pitied, because, for- 
 sooth, we do but lie in the beds that we have 
 chosen. No other paradise save a heaven 
 of gluttony would serve our turn. In the 
 Garden of Eden, should we perad venture and 
 by some singular grace win thither, we should 
 instantly take to wallowing in the mud and 
 enjoying the sunshine : some of us would sit 
 among the pigsties in happy conversation 
 and friendship with the swine : some would 
 creep downstairs and bask among the sauce- 
 pans before the kitchen fire : some would lie 
 among the bottles and casks in the cellar. Not 
 for such as have come here are the gardens, 
 the streams^ the meadows, and the hilltops.' 
 
 Then came two more guests, whom he 
 saluted gravely. These were accustomed to 
 the doctor's moods, and sat down to the 
 table, waiting in silence. He, too, became
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 217 
 
 silent, sitting with his head upon his hand. 
 Then came others, who also found the doctor 
 indisposed for mirth. Presently, however, he 
 banged the table with his fist, and cried out 
 in those deep tones which he could use so 
 well : 
 
 ^ Come, life is short. Lamenting lengthens 
 not our days. Brothers, let us drink and 
 sing. Koger, go bring the bowl. Gentle- 
 men all, be welcome to this poor house. 
 Here is tobacco. Punch is coming. The 
 night is young. Let every man be merry.' 
 
 The room was half full : there were, besides 
 the residents and lodgers of the place, young- 
 lawyers from the Temple, Gray's Inn, and 
 Lincoln's Inn ; poets not yet in limbo ; 
 authors Avho were still able to pay for their 
 lodgings ; young fellows whose creditors 
 Avere still forbearing ; and a few whose rich 
 coats and lace betokened their rank and 
 wealth. 
 
 The evenino' beo^an, the doctor's voice loud 
 above all the rest. Half an hour afterwards, 
 when the air of the room was already heavy 
 with tobacco-smoke. Sir Miles Lackington, who 
 usually came with the earliest, arrived, bring-
 
 2i8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 ing with him a young gentleman of twenty- 
 two years or thereabouts, who was bravely 
 dressed in a crimson coat, lined with white 
 silk : he had also a flowered silk waistcoat^ 
 and the hilt of his sword was set with jewels. 
 He was, in fact, one of those gentlemen who 
 were curious to see this jovial priest, self- 
 styled Chaplain of the place Avhere there were 
 so many parsons, who set the laws of the 
 country at defiance with an audacity so 
 splendid. He looked surprised, as if he had 
 not expected so large an assembly. 
 
 'Follow me, my lord,' said the baronet, 
 whose jolly face was already flushed, and his 
 voice already thick with wine. ' Come, my 
 lord, let us get nearer the doctor. Gentle- 
 men, by your leave : will you make place for 
 his lordship % Doctor, this gentleman is none 
 other than the young Lord Chudleigh, who 
 hath heard of your eloquence and your learn- 
 ing, and greatly desires your better acquaint- 
 ance. Kascal Roger, chairs for my lord and 
 myself !' 
 
 He pushed his way through the crowd, 
 followed by his guest. The doctor turned 
 his head, half rose ; his melancholy mood
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 219 
 
 had passed away : he was in happy vein : he 
 had sung one or two songs in a voice which 
 might have been heard at Temple Bar : he 
 had taken two or three glasses of punch, and 
 smoked a pipe and a half of the best Vir- 
 ginian; he was in the paradise which he 
 loved. Yet when Sir Miles Lackington 
 spoke, when he named his guest, the doctor's 
 face became suddenly pale, he seemed to 
 totter, his eyes glared, and he caught at the 
 arm of his chair, as if about to be stricken 
 with some kind of fit. His friends, who had 
 never seen those ample and rubicund cheeks 
 other than of a glowing ruddiness, were 
 greatly terrified at this phenomenon. 
 
 ' The doctor is ill/ cried Solomon Stalla- 
 bras, starting to his feet. ' Give air — open 
 the windows — let us carry the doctor into 
 the street !' 
 
 But he recovered. 
 
 ' It is nothing,' he said, ' A sudden faint- 
 ness. The day has been close. Let no one 
 move.' He drank off his glass of punch : 
 the colour came back to his face and the 
 firmness to his leo^s. ' I am well ao^ain. Sir 
 Miles, you are always welcome. Were the
 
 2 20 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 Liberties peopled with such as you, we should 
 be well sped indeed. Quick with the chairs, 
 Koger. I rejoice to see your lordship in this 
 poor house of mine. Had other noblemen of 
 your lordship's rank but kept their word, I 
 should this day have welcomed you in the 
 palace of a bishop. Forget, my lord, that I 
 am not a bishop : be assured that if I cannot 
 bestow the episcopal absolution and benedic- 
 tion which he of London hath ever ready for 
 a nobleman, my welcome is worthy of a 
 prelate, and the punch not to be surpassed 
 even at Lambeth Palace. Sir Miles, you 
 forgot, I think, to make me acquainted with 
 his lordship's noble name.' 
 
 * I am the Lord Chudleigh,' said the young 
 man, doubtfully, and with a pleasing blush. 
 
 ' Again, your lordship is welcome,' said 
 the doctor. '■ In the old days when I was 
 young and able to stir abroad in the world, 
 without a creditor in every street and a 
 vindictive dun in every shop (whose revenge 
 in this my confinement has only brought 
 lamentation on every mother's son, because 
 they remain all unpaid), it was my privilege 
 to be much with your noble father. In truth, 
 I knew not that he was dead.'
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 221 
 
 ' My father died two years ago at his 
 country house.' 
 
 * Indeed !' The doctor gravely gazed in 
 his guest's face, both still standing. ^ Is that 
 really so ? But we who live in this retire- 
 ment hear little news. So Lord Chudleigh 
 is dead. I went ujDon the Grand Tour with 
 him. I was his tutor, his companion, his 
 friend, as he was kind enough to call me ; 
 he was two years younger than myself, but 
 our tastes were common, and what he bou2:ht 
 I enjoyed and often chose. There came a 
 time when — but your lordship is young — you 
 know not yet how rank and class separate 
 friends, how the man of low birth may trust 
 his noble friend too much, and he of rank 
 may think the decalogue written for the 
 vulgar. Your father is dead ! I had hoped 
 to see him if but once more, before he died : 
 it was not to be. I would have written to 
 him upon his deathbed had I known : I owed 
 him much — very much more than I could 
 hope to repay, yet would I have repaid some- 
 thing. Your father died suddenly, my lord, 
 or after painful illness V 
 
 ^ He died, Dr. Shovel, after a long and 
 very painful illness.'
 
 222 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 ^ Why, there,' cried the doctor as if 
 disappointed. ^ Had I only known there 
 would have been time for half-a-dozen 
 letters. I would I had been with him 
 myself 
 
 ' It is kind of you, sir,' said his lordship, 
 ' thus to speak of my father.' 
 
 ' Did he — but I suppose he had forgotten — 
 did he condescend to speak of me '?' 
 
 ' Never; replied Lord Chudleigh ; ' at least 
 not to me.' 
 
 ^ There were certain passages in his life,' the 
 doctor went on, thoughtfully, ^ of such a kind 
 as recur to the memory of sick and dying 
 men, when the good and evil deeds of our 
 lives stand arrayed before us like ministering 
 spirits and threatening demons. Certain 
 passages, I say, which were intimately as- 
 sociated with myself Indeed, it cannot be 
 that they entirely perished from his lordship's 
 memory. Since he spoke not of them, let 
 me not speak. I am sorry, my lord, to have 
 saddened you by thus recalling the thought 
 of your dead father.' 
 
 ' Nay, sir,' said Lord Chudleigh, ' to have 
 met so old a friend of my father s is a pleasure
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 223 
 
 I did not expect. I humbly desire, sir, your 
 better acquaintance.' 
 
 The company during this long talk were 
 mostly standing. It was no new thing to 
 meet a man of rank at the doctor's, but alto- 
 gether new to have the conversation assume 
 so serious a tone. Everyone felt, however, 
 that the dignity of the doctor was greatly 
 increased by this event. 
 
 Then the doctor waved his hand, and re- 
 sumed his cheerful expression. 
 
 ^ Gentlemen,' he said, ' be seated all, I pray. 
 My lord, your chair is at my right. Enough 
 of the past. We are here to enjoy the 
 present hour, which is always with us and 
 always flying from us. We crown it with 
 flowers and honour it with libations : we sino^ 
 its presence with us : we welcome its coming, 
 and speed its parting with wine and song. 
 So far are we pagans : join with us in these 
 heathen rites wherein we rejoice in our life 
 and forget our mortality. None but poets are 
 immortal. Solomon — Solonnon Stallabras, the 
 modern Apollo, the favourite of the Nine, we 
 drink your health and wish the long deferring 
 of your immortality. Let us drink, let us
 
 2 24 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 talk, let us be merry, let us while away the 
 rosy hours.' He banged the table with his fist 
 and set the glasses clinkino-. Then he filled 
 a glass w^ith punch and handed it to Lord 
 Chudleigh. ' As for you, Sir Miles/ he said, 
 ' you may help yourself. Ah, tippler ! the 
 blush of the bottle is already on thy cheeks 
 and its light is in thy eyes. Wherefore, be 
 moderate at the outset. Koger, thou villain, 
 go order another bowl, and after that more 
 bowls, and still more bowls. I am afchirst : 
 I shall drink continually : I shall become this 
 night a mere hogshead of punch. So will all 
 this honourable company ; bid the vintner be- 
 ware the lemon and be sparing of the sugar, but 
 liberal with the clove and the nutmeg. This 
 night shall be such a night as the Rules have 
 never before seen. Pain, rogue, run !' Koger 
 vanished. ' Let me sing you, my lord, a 
 song of my youth when nymphs and 
 shepherdesses ran in my head more than 
 Hebrew and theology.' 
 
 He sang in his rich, full, and musical 
 voice, the following ditty : 
 
 ' Cried the nymph, while her swain. 
 Sought for phrases in vain, 
 *' Ah, Corydon, let me a shy lover teach ;
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 225 
 
 Your flowers and rings, 
 Your verses and things, 
 Are pretty, but dumb, and I love a bold speech. 
 
 ' *' To dangle and sigh, 
 
 To stammer and cry, 
 Such foolishness angers us maidens in time : 
 
 And if you would please, 
 
 Neither tremble nor tease. 
 But remember to woo us with laughter and rhyme. 
 
 * " Go, hang up thy crook, 
 
 Change that sorrowful look, 
 And seek merry rhymes and glad sayings in verse : 
 
 Remember that Kitty, 
 
 Ehymes still unto pity, 
 And Polly takes folly for better or worse. 
 
 ' ''Come jocund and gay, 
 
 As the roses in May, 
 With a rolling leg and a conquering smile : 
 
 Forget not that mirth 
 
 Ever rhymes unto worth. 
 And lucky the lover who laughs all the while." ' 
 
 ^ I wrote the song,' said the doctor, when 
 it was the fashion to be sighing at the feet 
 of Chloe. Not that my song produced any 
 impression on the fashion. Pray, my lord, 
 is it the custom, nowadays, to woo with a 
 lono^ face and a mournful sisfh ?' 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Lord Chudleigh laughed and put the 
 question by. 
 
 ' What do women care for lovers' sighs ? 
 I believe, gentlemen, they like to be carried 
 by assault. Who can resist a brave fellow, 
 all fire and passion, who marches to the 
 attack with a confident laugh and a gallant 
 bearinPf % It is the nature of the sex to ad- 
 mire gallantry. Therefore, gentlemen, put 
 on your best ruffles, cock your hats, tie your 
 wigs, settle the angle of your swords, and on 
 with a hearty countenance. 
 
 ' I remember, being then in Constantinople, 
 and at a slave-market where Circassians were 
 to be bought, there came into the place as 
 handsome a young Turk as ever you might 
 wish to set eyes upon. Perhaps he was a 
 poet, because when he had the slaves brought 
 out for his inspection, at sight of the prettiest 
 and youngest of them all, he fell to sighing 
 just like an English gentleman in love. Pre- 
 sently there came in an old ruffler of fifty, 
 who, without any sighs or protestations, 
 lugged out his purse and bought the slave, 
 and she went off delighted at having fetched so 
 good a price and pleased so resolute a fellow.'
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 227 
 
 The doctor continued to pour forth stories 
 of adventure and experience, interspersed 
 with j)hilosophical maxims. He told of 
 courts and cities as he saw them in the year 
 1720, which was the year in which he made 
 the Grand Tour with the late Lord Chud- 
 leigh. He told old tales of Cambridge life. 
 While he talked the company listened, drank, 
 and smoked ; no one interrupted him. Mean- 
 while he sent the punch about, gave toasts — 
 with every glass a toast, with every toast a 
 full 2rlass — and swore that on such a niofht no 
 one should pay but himself, wherefore let 
 every man fill up. 
 
 ' Come, gentlemen, we let the glasses flag. 
 I will sing you another song, written for the 
 good old days of Tom D'Urfey, Avhen men 
 were giants, and such humble topers as our- 
 selves would have met with scant re- 
 spect. 
 
 ' Come all you honest topers, lend an ear, lend an ear, 
 While we drain the bowl and push the bottle round, 
 bottle round ; 
 "We are merry lads, and cosy, cosy here, cosy here ; 
 
 Though outside the toil and moil may resound, may 
 resound. 
 
 15—2
 
 228 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' Let us drink reformation to raankind, to mankind ; 
 
 Example may they follow from our ways, from our 
 ways : 
 And whereas to their follies they are blind, they are 
 blind, 
 Their eyes may they open to their craze, to their craze. 
 
 * For the miser all day long hugs his gold, hugs his gold ; 
 
 And the lover for his mistress ever sighs, ever sighs : 
 And the parson wastes his words upon his fold, upon his 
 fold ; 
 And the merchant to the ledger glues his eyes, glues 
 his eyes. 
 
 * Eut we wrangle not, but laugh, while we drink, while we 
 
 drink ; 
 And we envy no man's happiness or wealth, or his 
 
 wealth : 
 "VVe rest from toil and cease from pen and ink, pen and 
 
 ink ; 
 And we only pray for liquor and for health, and for 
 
 health. 
 
 * Then the miser shall, like us, call for wine, call for wine : 
 
 And the lover cry for lemon and the bowl, and the 
 
 bowl : 
 And the merchant send his clerks for brandy fine, 
 
 brandy fine ; 
 And the parson with a bottle soothe his soul, soothe 
 
 his soul. 
 
 'And the rogue shall honest grow, o'er a glass, o'er a glass ; 
 And the thief shall repent beside a keg, beside a keg : 
 And enmity to friendship quickly pass, quickly pass ; 
 While good fellows each to others drink a peg, drink 
 a peg.
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 229 
 
 'All kill-joy envies then shall disappear, disappear; 
 
 Contented shall we push the bottle round, bottle round ; 
 Por 'tis cosy, topers all, cosy here, cosy here ; 
 
 Though outside the toil and moil may resound, may 
 resound.' 
 
 Thus did the doctor stimulate his guests 
 to drink. As the night wore on, one by one 
 dropped aWcay : some, among whom were Sir 
 Miles, dropped asleep ; a few lay upon the 
 floor. As for Lord Chudleigh, the fiery 
 liquor and the fumes of the tobacco were 
 mounting to his brain, but he was not, like 
 the rest, overpowered. He would have got 
 up and gone away, but that the doctor's 
 voice, or his eyes, held him to his place. 
 
 ' I am thinking,' said the doctor with a 
 strange smile, ' how your father at one time 
 might have rejoiced to think that you should 
 come here. The recollection of his services 
 to me must have soothed his last moments. 
 Would that I could repay them !' 
 
 Lord Chudleigh assured him that, so far 
 as he knew, there was nothing to repay, and 
 that, if there had been, his father's wish 
 would certainly have been to forgive the 
 debt.
 
 230 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 ' He could not forgive the debt,' said the 
 doctor, laughing. ^ It was not in his power. 
 He would have owned the debt. It was not 
 money, however, but a kindness of quite 
 another sort.' 
 
 ' Then/ said Lord Chudleigh, prettily 
 bowing, ' let me thank you beforehand, and 
 assure you that I shall be proud to receive 
 any kindness in return that you may have an 
 opportunity to show me.' 
 
 ' Believe me, my lord,' said the doctor, * I 
 have the will, if not the power : and I shall 
 not forget the will, at least.' 
 
 *It is strange,' he continued, 'that he never 
 spoke about his younger days. Lord Chud- 
 leigh attracted to himself, between the age of 
 five-and-twenty and thirty, the friendship 
 and respect of many men, like myself, of 
 scholarship and taste, without fortune. He 
 with his friends was going to supply that de- 
 fect, a promise which circumstances pre- 
 vented him from fulfilling. The earthen 
 vessel swims merrily, in smooth water, be- 
 side the vessel of brass ; when a storm rises 
 it breaks to atoms. We were the earthen 
 vessels, he the brazen ; we are all broken
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 231 
 
 to atoms and cyrouncl beneath the heeh I, 
 who ahnost alone survive, though sunk as 
 low as any, am yet not the least miserable, 
 and can yet enjoy the three great blessings 
 of humanity in this age — T mean tobacco, 
 punch, and the Protestant religion. Yet one 
 or two of the earthenware pots survive : 
 Judge Tester, for instance, a fellow whose 
 impudence has carried him upwards. He 
 began by being a clown born and bred. 
 First he was sent to the Inns of Court, 
 where he fell into a red w^aistcoat and velvet 
 breeches, and so into vanity. Impudence, I 
 take it, is the daughter of Vanity. As for 
 the rest, a few found their way to this classic 
 region, on wdiich Queen Elizabeth from the 
 Gate of Lud looks down with royal benignity; 
 but these are gone and dead. One, I know, 
 took to the road, and is now eno^aofed in 
 healthful work upon a Plantation of Mary- 
 land ; two were said to have joined the 
 Waltham Blacks, and lived like Kobin 
 Hood, on venison shot in the forest, and 
 other luxuries demanded of wayfarers pistol 
 in hand ; one I saw not long ago equipped as 
 a small-coal man in blue sur|)lice, his
 
 232 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 shoulder laden with his wooden tinder, and 
 his measure twisted into the mouth of his 
 sack ; another, a light-weight and a younger 
 son, became a jockey, and wore the leathern 
 cap, the cut bob, the buff breeches, and the 
 fustian frock, till he was thrown and broke 
 his neck. I laugh when I think of what an 
 end hath come to all the greatness of those 
 days. To be sure, my lord paid for all and 
 promised future favours ; but we were fine 
 gentlemen on nothing, connoisseurs with, 
 never a guinea, dilettanti who could not pay 
 for the very eye-glasses we carried. In the 
 province of love and gallantry every man^ 
 beggar as he was, thought himself a perfect 
 Oroondates. We sang with taste ; we were 
 charming men, nonpareils. We had the 
 tastes of men of fortune ; we talked as if 
 the things we loved were within our reach ; 
 we dreamed of pictures, bronzes, busts, in- 
 taglios, old china, or Etruscan paterae. And 
 we had the vices of the great as well as their 
 tastes. Like them we drank ; like them we 
 diced ; like them we played all night at 
 brag, all-fours, teetotum, hussle-cup, chuck- 
 farthing, hazard, lansquenet. So we lived.
 
 THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 233 
 
 and so we presently found the fate of earthen 
 vessels. Heaven hath been kinder to some 
 of us than we deserve. Wherefore, gentle- 
 men, drink about.' Here the doctor looked 
 round him. ' Gentlemen, I perceive that I 
 hav^e been for some time talking to a sleeping 
 audience. Koger, pour me out another glass. 
 Swine of Circe, I drink to your headaches in 
 the morning. Now, lads, turn all out.'
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Those of the guests who had not already 
 departed, were sitting or lying aslee23 upon 
 the floor or on the chairs. The last to suc- 
 cumb had been Lord Chudleigh, not because 
 his was the strongest head, but because he had 
 drunk the least and struggled the hardest not 
 to fall a victim to the punch. Sir Miles had 
 long since sunk peacefully upon the floor, 
 where he lay in oblivion, one of the men 
 having loosened his cravat to prevent the 
 danger of apoplexy. Solomon Stallabras, 
 among whose vices was not included the love 
 of strong drink, was one of the earliest to 
 depart ; the young Templar whom the doctor 
 exhorted to virtue early in the evening, 
 was now lying curled up like a child in the
 
 THE DOCTOR DISMISSES HIS FRIENDS. 235 
 
 Corner, his virtuous resolutions, if he had 
 ever formed any, forgotten. Others there 
 were, but all were crapulous, stupid, senseless, 
 or asleep. 
 
 The doctor stood over his victims, victo- 
 rious. He had taken, singly, more punch 
 than any three of them together ; yet there 
 they all lay helpless, while he was steady of 
 head and speech ; it was past two o'clock in 
 the morning ; the candles, low now, and 
 nearly spent, burned dim in the thick, to- 
 bacco-laden air ; the walls were streaming 
 with the heat generated by the presence of 
 so many men and so much drink. Roger, 
 with the red nose and pale cheeks, still stood 
 stolidly at the door, waiting for the half- 
 finished bowl and the last orders ; beside him, 
 his fellow-lackey and clerk William. 
 
 'Turn all out, Roger,' said the doctor. 
 
 ^ Aye, sir,' said Roger. 
 
 Both men addressed themselves to the 
 task. They were accustomed to turn out 
 their master's guests in this fashion. First, 
 they lifted the fallen form of Sir Miles, and 
 bore him carefully to his lodging ; then they 
 carried out the young Templar and the others
 
 236 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 who lay snoring upon the floor, and deposited 
 them upon the stalls of the market outside, 
 where the fresh air of the night might be 
 expected to restore them speedily. 
 
 Meanwhile, Roger and Yvilliam, for their 
 better protection, would themselves watch 
 over them until such time as they should 
 awake, rise, and be ready to be led home 
 Avith tottering step and rolling gait, for such 
 reward as the varlets might demand. 
 
 The doctor's clerks had a hard life. They 
 began to tout on Ludgate Hill and the Fleet 
 Bridge at eight ; they fought for their couples 
 all the morning with other touts ; in the 
 evening, they waited on the doctor s guests ; 
 at midnight, they bore them into the market ; 
 there they watched over them till they could 
 be taken home. A hard and difficult service. 
 But there were few of the men about the 
 Fleet who did not envy a situation so well 
 paid ; indeed, one cannot but admire the 
 hardness of men to whom a daily fight, with 
 constant black eyes, broken teeth, and bleed- 
 ing noce, appears of such slight importance 
 in the day's work, as not to be taken into 
 account.
 
 THE DOCTOR DISMISSES HIS FRIENDS. 237 
 
 There remained Lord Chiidleigh, who had 
 fallen asleep in his chair, and was the last. 
 
 * As for this young gentleman, Roger,' said 
 the doctor, ' carry him upstairs and lay him 
 upon my bed ; he is of different stuff Do 
 not wake him, if you can help it.' 
 
 Nothing but an earthquake or an explosion 
 of gunpowder could have awakened the young 
 man, so senseless and heavy was he. They 
 bore him up the stairs, the doctor follov;ing ; 
 they took off his boots, his coat, and waist- 
 coat, put on him the doctor's nightcap, and 
 laid him in the bed. 
 
 All finished, the doctor bade them drink 
 off the rest of the punch, and begone. 
 
 The doctor, left quite alone, opened the 
 windows and doors, and stepped out into the 
 market. At two o'clock on a cold October 
 morning, even that noisy place is quiet ; a 
 west wind had driven away the smoke, and 
 the sky was clear, glittering with innumerable 
 stars. The doctor threw open his arms and 
 took a deep breath of the cold air, standing 
 with his wig^ off, so that the wind mio^it 
 freshen his brain. Before him he saw, but 
 he took no heed, the helpless forms of his
 
 23S THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 guests, lying on the stalls ; beside them sat, 
 wrapped in heavy coats, his two serving-men, 
 looking like vultures ready to devour their 
 prey, but for fear of their master, who would 
 infallibly cause them to be hanged. 
 
 After a few minutes in the open air, the 
 doctor returned to his room ; he was sober, 
 although he had taken enough punch to make 
 ten men drunk ; and steady of hand, although 
 he had smoked so much tobacco ; but the 
 veins on his face stood out like purple 
 cords, his eyes were bloodshot, his great lips 
 were trembling*. 
 
 He did not go to bed, but lit a fresh pair of 
 candles, and sat in his chair thinking. 
 
 His thoughts carried him back to some 
 time of trouble, for he presently reached out 
 his hand, seized his tobacco-pipe, and crushed 
 it in fragments ; then he took the glass from 
 which he had been drinking, and crushed 
 that, too, in his great strong fingers. 
 
 ' I knew not,' he murmured, ' that the 
 villain was dead. If I had known that he 
 Avas ill, I should have gone to see him, if 
 only to remind him, with a curse, of the past. 
 He is dead ; I can never curse him face to
 
 7 HE DOCTOR DISMISSES HIS FRIENDS. 239 
 
 face, as I hoped to do. I did not think that 
 he would die before me ; he seemed stronger, 
 and he was younger. I looked to seek him 
 out at any time, when I wanted a holiday, or 
 when I wanted a diversion. I thought I 
 would take him in his own house, and show 
 him, in such words as only I can command, 
 how mean a creature he was, and what a 
 treacherous' cur. Now he is dead. He actu- 
 ally never will be ]3unished at all.' 
 
 This reflection caused him the greatest 
 sadness. He shook his head as he thought 
 it over. 
 
 ^ It is not,' he said to himself, ' that I 
 wished to be revenged on him (though doubt- 
 less, as men are but frail, that desire entered 
 somewhat into my hopes), so much as that I 
 saw in him a man who, above most men, de- 
 served to be punished. I break the law daily, 
 incurring thereby the penalty of a hundred 
 pounds, which I never pay, for each offence. 
 Yet truly am I less burdened in my conscience 
 than should have been this Lord Chudleigh. 
 And he hath died in honour. In this world 
 one man steals a pig, and receives the appro- 
 bation of his kind ; another looks over a wall,
 
 240 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 and is clapped in gaol for it ; one man slaugh- 
 ters a thousand, and is made a duke ; another 
 kills one, and is hanged. I am in prison, 
 who never did anything against the law until 
 I came here, nor harmed any except my 
 creditors. My lord, who thought the ten 
 commandments made for creatures of baser 
 blood, and the round world, with all that 
 therein is, only created for his own insatiable 
 appetite, lives in honour and dies — what can 
 I tell ? — perhaps in grace ; fortified, at least, 
 with the consolations of the Church and the 
 benedictions of his chaplain. So all things 
 seem matter of chance. As Solomon Stalla- 
 bras says, in one of his fables : 
 
 * " We little flies who buzz and die, 
 Should never ask the reason why." ' 
 
 He yawned ; then, struck with a sudden 
 thought, he took one of the candles and 
 softly mounted the stairs. Shading the light 
 with his hand, he looked upon the face of the 
 young man sleeping on his bed. A handsome 
 young man, with regular features strongly 
 marked, delicate lips, and pointed chin. 
 
 ^ Truly,' said the doctor, ^ a youth of great
 
 THE DOCTOR DISMISSES BIS FRIENDS. 241 
 
 beauty. Another David. He is more 
 handsome than his father, even in those 
 young days when he caressed me to my ruin, 
 and led me on with promises to my undoing. 
 Yet he hath the trick of the Chudleigh hp, 
 and he hath his father's nose. Would that 
 his father were alive, and that it was he and 
 not his son lying here at my mercy! The 
 son is somethino^ : out of reo^ard to his 
 fiither s memory, he shall not get off scot- 
 free. But what is to be done ? There is 
 nothing, I think, that I would not do ' — his 
 red face grew purple as he thought of his 
 wronrrs — ' were his father livinof, and could I 
 make him feel through his son. Nothing, I 
 believe. As I am a Christian man, if my 
 lord were alive this day, I think I could tie 
 a stone round the boy's neck and chuck him 
 into the Fleet Ditch at Holborn Bridge. 
 And yet, what a poor and miserable thing 
 to do I A moment of brutal satisfaction in 
 thinking of the father's agony — an eternity of 
 remorse. But his father is dead ; he cannot 
 feel at all any more, whatever I do. If I 
 could' — his face grew dark again, and he 
 ground his teeth — ^ I believe I could drag 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 the boy downwards, little by little, and 
 destroy his very soul, to make his father 
 suiFer the more/ 
 
 He gasped and caught his breath. 
 
 ^ Why,' he murmured, ^ what is this ? It 
 is well for men that they are not led into 
 temptation. This young lord hath fallen 
 into my hands. Good. What shall I do 
 with him % He knows nothingf. Yet he 
 must suffer something. It is the law. We 
 are all under the law. For the third and 
 fourth generation — and he is only the first 
 generation. His children and his grand- 
 children will have to suffer after him. It is not 
 my fault. I am clearly carrying out the law. 
 He is providentially led here, not that I may 
 take revenge upon the son of my enemy for 
 his father's Avrong, but that he might receive 
 chastisement at my hands, being those of the 
 fittest person, even as Solomon was chosen 
 to slay both Joab and Shimei. What then 
 shall I do ? The Reverend Gregory Shovel 
 cannot murder the boy ; that would be the 
 common, vulgar thought of a Fleet Market 
 butcher or a hodman. Murder ? A nauseous 
 thought.'
 
 THE DOCTOR DISMISSES HIS FRIENDS. 243 
 
 He took up the candle and stole noiselessly 
 down the stairs, as if the thought had driven 
 him from the place. 
 
 When he was back in his own room he 
 began to walk up and down, thinking. 
 
 ' He is but a boy/ he said, ' a handsome 
 boy ; 'tw^ould be a sin to harm him. Yet, 
 being sent here as he is, in a way that can 
 be no other than providential, 'twould be a 
 sin to let him go. How if I make him pay 
 all my debts, and so leave the Liberties and 
 live respectably ever after ? Kespectably !' 
 he laughed a little. 'Why, who would 
 believe that the great Dr. Shovel could be 
 respectable ? The mud of this place, this 
 dwelling beside a ditch, hath entered into my 
 soul as the iron of the chains entereth into 
 the soul of the prisoner. My name is too 
 deeply daubed with the Fleet mud ; it cannot 
 be cleansed. And should I give up my 
 place ? Should I leave to another the honour 
 I have won and the income I make there- 
 from \ Shall there be another Chaplain of 
 the Fleet while I survive ? No ; that will 
 never do. How could I live away from this 
 room wherein I w^allow^ day and night ? 
 
 16—2
 
 244 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Here am I at mine ease ; here I get wealth ; 
 I cannot leave this place.* 
 
 He was in great perplexity. He wandered 
 up and down ; hoAvas torn between his wrath 
 against the father and his consciousness that 
 it would be a mean and dreadful villainy to 
 take revenge upon the son. 
 
 ' I must have taken too much punch/ he 
 said, ' thus to be agitated. Punch, like wine, 
 " is a mocker, strong drink is raging." The 
 Christian should forgive ; the father is dead ; 
 the lad is a handsome lad and may be good. 
 Besides, whatever I do to the boy, his sire 
 will neither know nor feel. I might as well 
 suppose that the legs and heads on Temple 
 Bar feel what is said about them below. I 
 am a fool ; yet am I but a man. For such 
 a crime even a saint would feel a righteous 
 wrath. Yet it is cowardly to take revenge 
 upon the son, the committer of the crime 
 having gone to his own place. Yet he in that 
 man's son. What then to do ? 
 
 He turned tlie question over a thousand 
 times, yet found no answer. At last a 
 thought came to him. He nodded his head 
 and laughed aloud. Then he sought his arm-
 
 THE DOCTOR DISMISSES HIS FRIENDS. 245 
 
 chair, adjusted his ample gown so as to get 
 the greatest amount of comfort out of it, 
 placed his feet upon a stool, and folded his 
 arms. 
 
 ' I have taken at least a quart of punch 
 more than is good for me. That is most 
 certain. Otherwise I should have known at 
 once what I should do. I have actually for- 
 gotten the peculiarities of my own position. 
 Which shows that I am neither so young nor 
 so strong as I have been. Perhaps the sys- 
 tem wants a fillip. I will take a dose of 
 Norway tar- water to-morrow. But first, my 
 lord, you shall find out, early in the morning, 
 why T am called the Chaplain of the Fleet.'
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 HOW KITTY EXECUTED THE DOCTORS REVENGE. 
 
 The doctor seldom transacted business be- 
 fore nine o'clock in the morning, unless, as 
 sometimes happened, a spirited apprentice, a 
 lad of mettle, came with his master's daugh- 
 ter, both stealing away at seven, before the 
 master and mistress were up, when she was 
 supposed to be attending morning prayers 
 at church, or helping Molly the maid with 
 the mop, and he was expected to be cleaning 
 out the shop and dressing the window. The 
 ceremony over, they w^ould go home again, 
 but separately, young miss carrying her 
 Prayer-book before her as demure as a kitten, 
 looking as if she had never heard of a Fleet 
 marriage, and was ignorant of the great 
 Dr. Shovel, chaplain, yea, bishop of that
 
 THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 247 
 
 place ; while the boy, with brush and 
 broom and watering-can, would be zealously 
 about his master's work when that poor 
 man — his morning dish of chocolate or pint 
 of small ale despatched — appeared in the 
 shop for the conduct of the day's affairs. 
 Afterwards they could choose their own 
 time for declaring what had been done. 
 Thus did the doctor make or mar the for- 
 tunes of many a bold prentice-boy. 
 
 This morning the doctor awoke from sleep 
 at seven or thereabouts, having in four hours 
 slept off the punch and tobacco in his arm- 
 chair. His face became almost benign in its 
 thoughtful kindliness as he remembered the 
 guest lying asleep upstairs, and what he was 
 about to do for him. He rose, shook himself, 
 opened the windows and doors, and went out 
 into the market, still in his nightcap, carrying 
 his wio^ in one hand and his silk handkerchief 
 in the other. 
 
 The market was already crowded with 
 purchasers, principally those wdio buy a 
 barrowful of fruit and vegetables, and bawl 
 throuofh the streets until all is sold. But 
 there was a good sprinkling of maids and
 
 248 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 housewives buying provisions for the day. 
 The morning was fresh, with a Uttle autumn 
 fog, and the sun shining through it Uke a 
 great yellow disk ; the waggons stood about 
 with their loads of cabbages, carrots, pars- 
 nips, potatoes, apples, plums and sloes, wait- 
 ing till they could be discharged ; on the 
 heaped-up piles of fruit and vegetables you 
 could see hano^inof still the slender threads 
 and ^cobwebs which are spun every night in 
 autunm time by invisible spiders, and appear 
 in the morninof strung^ with beads of dew. 
 
 ' Stand aside I' cried the stall-keepers, one 
 and all. ^ Make way for the doctor ! Don't 
 you see the doctor % Room for the doctor !' 
 
 He w^alked magisterially to the pump, under 
 which he held his bare head for a few mo- 
 ments while a boy pumped the cold water 
 over him. This done, he shook his head, 
 mopped his poll with his silk handkerchief 
 clapped on his wig, and returned to his own 
 house, his robes majestically floating around 
 him. 
 
 The market, proud of its doctor, made way 
 for him with salutations and inquiries after 
 his reverence's health.
 
 THE DOCTORS REVENGE. 249 
 
 At the house he found his two runners 
 waiting for him, as fresh — if pale cheeks 
 and red noses can look fresh — as if they had 
 not been up until two o'clock in the morning. 
 
 He sent for a pint of small ale, and began 
 to consider what next. 
 
 * Roger/ he said, ^ canst thou, at the present 
 moment, lay thy hand upon a woman willing 
 to be a bride, either in the prison or elsewhere'?' 
 
 Roger hesitated. 
 
 ' It depends, your reverence, on the bride- 
 groom. About Tower steps, for instance, 
 and dow^n Wapping way, there are brides in 
 plenty to be picked up for the asking.' 
 
 * Not brides for me, Roger. Think again. 
 I want a bride who wants a husband, and not 
 a sailor's money ; who will stick to her hus- 
 band and make him as happy in his wedded 
 life as you and the rest of mankind are or 
 have been.' 
 
 Rosier tinned. He was himself a widower, 
 and could be tickled with the joke. 
 
 * I think I know the very w-oman,' he said. 
 ' A young widow ' 
 
 ' Good,' said the doctor. 
 ' She has been extravagant, and is in 
 debt '
 
 250 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' Very good/ said the doctor. 
 
 ^ A prisoner in the Fleet ; but I can fetch 
 her out in a twinkUng, for half-a-crown.' 
 
 ' Ay — ay,' said the doctor. ' Go on, honest 
 Koger. A widow, extravagant, and in debt. 
 That promises well.' 
 
 * Her husband was an honest draper in 
 Gracechurch Street^ who lately died of small- 
 pox, leaving her a good business and a 
 thousand pounds in money. She hath already 
 squandered the thousand, wasted the business, 
 and brought herself to ruin. She is comely, 
 and is but thirty years of age ; to get out of 
 the Fleet, I think she would marry the ' 
 
 ^ She shall marry better than that, Roger. 
 Go fetch her here : tell her to come and talk 
 with me, and that if she pleases me in her 
 conversation and appearance, she may shortly 
 marry a gentleman.' 
 
 ' This,' said the doctor, when his man was 
 gone, ' will be a good stroke of business. 
 This shall be his punishment. My lord shall 
 marry this extravagant slut. No paltry 
 common revenge this. Just punishment for 
 the first generation. He will gain a pocket- 
 ful of debts and a wife who will stick to him
 
 THE D C TOR'S RE VENGE. 2 5 1 
 
 like a leech. Aha ! — a city wench — none of 
 your proud city madams, grand enough to be 
 a countess — but a plain tradesman's widow, 
 with no ideas beyond a dish of tea, Bag- 
 nigge Wells, strawberries at Bayswater, 
 cakes at Chelsea, or at the best, a night of 
 wonder-gaping at the quality at Yauxhall ; 
 a Avife of whom he will be ashamed from 
 the very first. This is good business. What 
 a pity ! what a thousand pities that his noble 
 father is no more !' 
 
 The doctor laughed and rubbed his hands. 
 Then he mounted the stairs again, and entered 
 his bedroom. The lad was still sound asleep ; 
 his cheeks less red, and his breathing 
 lighter. 
 
 ' His head will ache,' said the doctor. ' I 
 fear he is unaccustomed to punch. When he 
 wakes his limbs will feel like lead ; his 
 throat will feel like a limekiln ; his tongue 
 will be furred like the back of a squirrel ; 
 his eyes will be hot and heavy, as if he had 
 a fever; his hand will shake like the hand 
 of a palsied man ; he will totter when he tries 
 to walk. Aha ! cursed drink I Time was 
 when I, who am now as seasoned as a port-
 
 252 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 wine cask, or a keg of Nantz, would feel the 
 same when I awoke after such a night. Age 
 brings its consolations.' He rubbed his hands, 
 thinking that he could now drink without 
 these symptoms. ^ I will marry him,' he 
 continued, ^ while he is yet half - drunk. 
 When he recovers, it will be time to explain 
 the position of things. Should I explain, or 
 should his wife ? Ho ! ho ! A draper's 
 widow, of Gracechurch Street, to marry the 
 heir of all the Chudleiofhs I' 
 
 He stood over the bed again, and passed his 
 hand lightly over the sleeping boy's cheeks. 
 Something in his look touched the doctor, 
 and his eyes softened. 
 
 ^ Poor lad I I never had a son. Perhaps, 
 if there had been one, things would have been 
 different. He is a very handsome boy. Pity, 
 after all, that he must marry this jade, this 
 extravagant wench who will waste and scatter 
 his patrimony, and likely bring him to shame, 
 when, being so young, so handsome, and so 
 rich, he might have had the prettiest girl in 
 the country — ' here he started — ' might have 
 had — might have had — can he not have ? Is 
 there a j)rettier girl or a better-bred girl any-
 
 THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 253 
 
 where in the land than Kitty Pleydell ? 
 What more can any man want ? She is of 
 gentle blood — on one side at least, for the 
 Shovels, it is very certain, do somewhat 
 smack of the soil. Never a Shovel, except the 
 Reverend Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity, 
 who hath risen to greatness. Clods all. Here 
 is a great chance for such a revenge as would 
 have driven the old lord mad, and will be a 
 blessing and a boon to the young lord. Ho ! 
 ho I my Lord Breaker of Promises, my Lord 
 Trampler of Dependents, my Lord Villain 
 and Pogue, how likes your lordship that your 
 son should marry my niece '? As for you, 
 young spark, I give you a bride so sweet, so 
 fair, so fresh, that by heavens ! you ought to 
 woo her for a twelvemonth, and then go and 
 hang your foolish neck by a garter because 
 she would not say yea. Well, well ! let us 
 return good for evil — let us still be Christians. 
 Yet no Lord Chudleigh hath deserved to have 
 any benefit at my hands.' 
 
 He rubbed his hands : he laughed to him- 
 self, his shoulders rolling from side to side : 
 he nodded his head pleasantly at his victim, 
 then he went downstairs again, with grave
 
 254 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 and thoughtful mien. He was thinking how 
 best to bring about his purpose. 
 
 He found, however, waiting below, Eoger, 
 his man. With him there came a woman 
 dressed in shabby finery. She w^as a woman 
 of about thirty-two years of age, stout, and 
 still comely ; she looked about the room as if 
 in search of some one ; her face was eager 
 and anxious. When she saw the doctor, she 
 put her handkerchief to her eyes and burst, 
 or pretended to burst, into tears. 
 
 * Alas, doctor !' she cried, ' I am truly 
 ashamed to come in such a plight. But I 
 have nothing else to put on. And Roger, 
 good man, says that the gentleman will not 
 wait. Who is the gentleman ? Surely not 
 Thomas Humpage, the mercer, who always 
 promised to marry me when my husband 
 should die, and now refuses because, although 
 a warm man, he will not take upon him the 
 burden of my poor debts. Alas ! men are 
 ever thus tow^ards us ]3oor women. Pray, 
 doctor, who is the gentleman ? Far be it 
 from me to keep the poor man waiting ; and 
 indeed, I was ever a pitiful woman, and ' 
 
 * You are under a little mistake, madam/
 
 THE DOCTORS REVENGE. 255 
 
 said the doctor, interrupting her. ' There is 
 no gentleman here asking for you. Koger is 
 an ass, and a pig.' 
 
 Roger made no reply. Excess of zeal 
 frequently led him into mistakes. He stared 
 straight before him, and modestly edged 
 away in the direction of the door, so as to be 
 out of reach both of the doctor's fist, the 
 weight of which he knew already, and the 
 lady's nails. 
 
 The poor woman's face fell, and real tears 
 crowded into her eyes. Now the doctor was 
 a man who could not bear the sisrht of a 
 w^oman crying, so he hastened to soothe her. 
 
 ' Your case, madam/ he said, * hath 
 awakened my commiseration. I have sent 
 for you to know whether, should Roger be 
 able to find a suitable husband, you would be 
 willing to take him.' 
 
 ' Oh, doctor !' she sobbed ; ' best of men ! 
 If only you can find me a husband, I should 
 be grateful to the end of my days. I would 
 marry anyone — anyone — even Roger.' 
 
 Roger swiftly vanished through the door. 
 
 ' He may be as old as Methusalem, and as 
 ugly as a foreign Frenchman, but I would
 
 256 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 marry him — to take my place in the prison 
 and go free once more.' 
 
 ' Koger/ said the doctor, ' is a great match- 
 maker. He hath persuaded many couples 
 into this room that never thought, when they 
 went out to take the air and see the shops, of 
 coming here. See, now, would the skipper 
 of a merchant-man serve your turn '?' 
 
 ' Doctor, I love a sailor. They make 
 confiding husbands, and they bring home 
 money.' 
 
 ' Once married, you are free. And then your 
 creditors would have to catch your husband, 
 who, if he is the handy tarpaulin that deserves 
 you, will show them a clean pair of heels off 
 the Nore. Madam, I will do my best. 
 Meanwhile, perhaps a guinea Avould be of 
 use to you.' 
 
 She cried in earnest as she took it. * Oh, 
 doctor, the debts are not much altogether ; a 
 poor two hundred pounds. And a man may 
 always be happy in the prison. There are 
 skittles and beer. But a woman never can. 
 And I would go to see him sometimes — say 
 twice a year.' 
 
 She went aw^ay weeping. But she stopped
 
 THE DOCTORS REVENGE. 257 
 
 when she saw Roger outside the door, and 
 held a few minutes' eac^er conversation with 
 him before she returned to her prison. 
 Perhaps he found some simple country lad 
 or sailor who was beguiled into marrying 
 her, only to take upon him her debts, and to 
 lie within four walls instead of her. But 
 indeed I know not. 
 
 We had finished our breakfast and- were 
 tidying the room : my thoughts were full of 
 the country that morning, because I had 
 dreamed of the old place and the garden 
 with its yellow leaves, the trailing cobwebs, 
 banks covered with branches of mignonette, 
 nasturtium eight feet long, pinks now mostly 
 over, bending their faded heads, and the 
 larkspur, foxglove, Venus's looking-glass, 
 bachelors' buttons, mournful widow, boys' 
 love, stocks, their glory over now, their 
 leaves witherino' and all run to seed. I was 
 
 o 
 
 talking about these sweet things with my 
 ladies, when I heard the doctor's voice at die 
 bottom of the stairs, bidding me quickly take 
 my hat and hood and run down to him, fo]* 
 that he needed me for half an hour. 
 
 I obeyed, little thinking Vviiat was to 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 follow. He said nothing, but, by a gesture, 
 bade me follow him. 
 
 When we came to his house, Roger and 
 William, his two runners, were waiting 
 outside the door, and the room was set out 
 in the usual fashion, in readiness for any 
 who might chance to call. 
 
 ' You,' said the doctor to the men, ' wait 
 outside until I call you. Stay, fetch a quart 
 of ale at once.' 
 
 The ale brought, the men retired and shut 
 the door. 
 
 ^ Kitty,' said my uncle, * I have long 
 intended to bestow upon thee the greatest 
 good fortune which it is in my power to 
 procure. Thou art a good girl : thou art my 
 sister's child : thou hast shown a spirit of 
 obedience. I have reflected that it is not 
 well for thee to remain much longer in the 
 Rules, and the only way to provide thee 
 with a home elsewhere, is to provide thee 
 with a husband.' 
 
 * But, sir,' I said, beginning to be ex- 
 tremely terrified, ' I do not want a husband.' 
 
 ' So say all young maids. We, child, know 
 what is best for them. I could have found
 
 THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 259 
 
 thee a husband among my friends. Sir Miles 
 Lackington, indeed, spoke to me concerning 
 the matter; he is a baronet. The Lack- 
 ingtons are an old family ; but he hath 
 squandered his fortune, and I cannot learn 
 that any more money will come to him. 
 Besides, he drinks more than is befitting even 
 in a gentleman of title.' 
 
 ' Oh, sir !' I cried, ' not Sir Miles.' 
 
 ' No, Kitty ' — the doctor smiled benevo- 
 lently upon me — ' I regard thy happiness 
 first. No drunkard shall marry my niece. 
 Mr. Stallabras hath also opened his mind 
 upon thee ; he is an ingenious man, with a 
 pretty wit, and if verses were guineas, would 
 be a great catch for thee. But alas ! he 
 hath no money, so I dismissed him.' 
 
 Poor Solomon ! That, then, was the reason 
 of a late melancholy which we had remarked 
 in him. Mrs. Esther took it as caused by 
 the wrestling of genius, and said that the 
 soul within him was too great for the bodily 
 strength. 
 
 ' But, Kitty,' here the doctor beamed upon 
 me like the sun in splendour, ' I have here — 
 yea, even in this house, the husband of my 
 
 17—2
 
 26o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 choice, the man who will make thee happy. 
 Start not — it is resolved. Child, ohey me' 
 
 I declare that I was so terrified by the 
 doctor's words, so amazed by his announce- 
 ment, so spellbound by his words and manner, 
 that I did not dare resist. Had he told me 
 that I was to be hanged, I could not have 
 made an effort to save myself. 
 
 ' Ohey mel he repeated, bending his eye- 
 brows, and looking upon me no longer as a 
 sun in splendour, but as an angry judge 
 might look upon a criminal. ' Stand here — 
 so — do not move ; keep thy face covered with 
 thy hood, all but thine eyes. Give me your 
 hand when I ask it, and be silent, save when 
 I bid thee speak. Be not afraid, girl ; I do 
 this for thine own good. I give thee a gentle- 
 man for thy husband. Thou shalt not leave 
 this place yet awhile, but needs must that 
 thou be married. I return in five minutes.' 
 
 He took the jug of beer and climbed the 
 stairs. I meanwhile stood where he had 
 placed me, my hood over my head, in the 
 most dre'adful terror that ever assailed the 
 heart of any girl. 
 
 Upstairs the doctor awakened Lord Chud-
 
 THE DOCTORS REVENGE. 261 
 
 leigh with some difficulty. He sat up on the 
 bed and looked round him, Avonderinof where 
 he was. 
 
 * I know now,' he murmured, * you are Dr. 
 Shovel, and this is ' 
 
 ' Your lordship is in the Liberties of the 
 Fleet.' 
 
 ^ My head is like a lump of lead,' said the 
 young man. 
 
 * Your lordship was very merry last night, 
 as, indeed, befits the happy occasion.' 
 
 ' Was I merry ? Indeed, I think I was 
 very drunk. What occasion 1' 
 
 'Drink a little small ale,' said the doctor ; 
 'it will revive you.' 
 
 He took a long drink of the beer, and tried 
 to stand. 
 
 ' So,' he said, ' I am better already ; but 
 my head reels, doctor, and my legs are un- 
 steady. It serves me right. It is the first 
 time, and it shall be the last.' 
 
 * I hope so, since your lordship is about to 
 undertake so important a charge.' -- 
 
 ' What charge ?' asked Lord Chudleigh 
 still dazed and unsteady. 
 
 ' Is it possible that your lordship hath for-
 
 2 62 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 gotten your mistress of whom you would 
 still be talking last night ? '' The sweetest 
 girl in England — the prettiest girl in all the 
 world — the fairest, kindest nymph" — I quote 
 your lordship/ 
 
 Lord Chudleigh stared in amazement. 
 
 * The sweetest girl ? — what girl ?' 
 
 'Oh, your lordship is pleased to jest with me/ 
 'I remember you, Dr. Shovel, whom I 
 came to see last night with Sir Miles Lack- 
 ington ; I remember the punch and the 
 songs ; but I remember nothing about any 
 girl.' 
 
 * Why, she is downstairs now, waiting for 
 your lordshi|). You will come downstairs 
 and keep your appointment.' 
 
 He spoke in a peremptory manner, as if 
 ordering and expecting obedience. 
 
 ' My appointment \ Have I gone mad ? 
 It is this cursed punch of yours. My ap- 
 pointment ?' 
 
 The doctor gave him his coat and wig, and 
 helped him to put them on. 
 
 ^ I attend your lordship. She is down- 
 stairs. Take a little more ale to clear your 
 head : you will remember then.'
 
 ' THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 263 
 
 The young man drank again. The beer 
 mounted to his brain, I suppose, because he 
 laughed and straightened himself. 
 
 ' Why, I am a man again. An appoint- 
 ment ? No, doctor, hang me if all the beer 
 in your cellar will make me remember any 
 appointment ! Where is Sir Miles % He 
 might tell me something about it. Curse all 
 punch, I say. Yet, if the lady be down- 
 stairs, as you say, I suppose I must have 
 made some sort of appointment. Let me see 
 
 her, at any rate. It will be easy to — to ' 
 
 here he reeled, and caught hold of the doctor's 
 hand. 
 
 What a crime ! What a terrible wicked 
 thing was this which we did — my uncle and 
 I ! I heard the steps on the stairs ; I might 
 have run away; the door was before me ; but 
 I was afraid. Yes, I was afraid. My uncle 
 had made me fear him more than I feared 
 the laws of my God ; or, since that is hardly 
 true, he made me fear him so much that I 
 forgot the laws of my God. I did not run 
 away, but I waited with a dreadful fluttering 
 of my heart. 
 
 I held my hood, drawn over my head, with
 
 264 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. ' 
 
 my left hand, so that only my eyes were 
 visible, and so I kept it all the time. 
 
 I saw in the door the most splendid yoang- 
 man I had ever seen ; he was richly dressed, 
 though his coat and ruffles showed some dis« 
 order, in crimson coat and sash, with flowered 
 silk waistcoat, and sword whose hilt gleamed 
 v/ith jewels. His cheek was flushed and his 
 eyes had a fixed and glassy look ; the doctor 
 led him, or rather half supported him. Was 
 this young man to be my husband ? 
 
 Roger must have been watching outside^, 
 for now he came in and locked the door 
 behind him. Then he drew out his greasy 
 Prayer-book, standing by his lordship, ready 
 to support him if necessary. 
 
 ' So,' he said, ' this is the sweetest girl in 
 all England — hang me if I remember ! Look 
 up, my girl : let me see thy face. How can I 
 tell unless I see thy face V 
 
 ' Silence 1' said the doctor in a voice of 
 command. 
 
 T know not what strange power he pos- 
 sessed, but at the sound of his voice the 
 young man became suddenly silent and looked 
 about the room, as if wondering. For mvself,.
 
 THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 265 
 
 I knew that I was to be married to him ; but 
 why ? what did it mean ? 
 
 The doctor had begun the service. My 
 bridegroom seemed to understand nothing, 
 looking stupidly before him. 
 
 Roger read the responses. 
 
 The doctor did not hurry; he read the 
 exhortation, the prayers, the Psalms through 
 slowly and with reverence ; other Fleet 
 parsons scrambled through the service ; the 
 doctor alone knew what was due to the 
 Church; he read the service as a clergy- 
 man who respects the service ought to 
 read. 
 
 ' Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded 
 wife f 
 
 The man Koger gave the dazed bridegroom 
 a jog in the ribs. 
 
 ' Say '' I will," ' he whispered loudly. 
 
 ' I will,' said the young man. 
 
 ' Wilt thou,' the doctor turned to me, * have 
 this man to thy wedded husband X 
 
 Koger nodded to me. * Say '' I will," ' he 
 admonished me. 
 
 I obeyed ; yet I knew not wdiat I said, so 
 frightened was I.
 
 2 66 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 * Who giveth/ the doctor went on, 'this 
 woman to be married to this man 1' 
 
 The dirty, battered rogue, the clerk, took 
 my hand and laid it in that of the doctor. I 
 was given away by the villain Roger. Then 
 the service went on. 
 
 ' With this ring' — the man's hand was hold- 
 ing mine, and it was dry and hot ; his face 
 was red and his eyes were staring — ^ with 
 this ring I thee wed ; with my body I thee 
 worship ; with all my worldly goods I thee 
 endow.' 
 
 Consider — pray consider — that when T 
 took part in this great wickedness, I was but 
 a young girl, not yet seventeen years old ; 
 that the thing came upon me so suddenly 
 that I had not the sense to remember what 
 it meant ; that my uncle was a man of 
 whom any girl would have been afraid. Yet 
 I knew that I ought to have fled. 
 
 When my bridegroom held my hand in his 
 I observed that it was hot and trembhng ; his 
 eyes did not meet mine ; he gazed upon the 
 doctor as if askinsf what all this meant. I 
 took him, in my innocence, for a madman.
 
 THE D C TOR'S RE VENGE. 2 6 7 
 
 and wondered all the more what this freak of 
 the doctor's could mean. 
 
 For ring, the doctor drew from his guest's 
 little finger a diamond ring, which was full 
 large for my third finger. 
 
 When the service was finished, bride and 
 bridegroom stood stupidly staring at each 
 other (only that still I wore my hood drawn 
 over my face), while Koger placed upon the 
 table a great volume bound in parchment 
 with brass clasps. 
 
 * This, my lord, is our Register,' said the 
 doctor, opening it at a clean page. ^ Sign 
 there, if you please, in your usual hand. I 
 will fill in the page afterwards.' 
 
 He took the pen and signed, still looking 
 with wondering eyes. 
 
 * Now, child,' said the doctor, ' do you sign 
 here, after your husband. The certificate 
 you shall have later. For the present, I will 
 take care of it. Other practitioners of the 
 Fleet, my lord,' he said, with professional 
 pride, as he looked at his great volume, 
 ^ would enter your name in a greasy pocket- 
 book and give your wife a certificate on un- 
 stamped paper. Here you have a register fit
 
 268 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 for a cathedra], and a certificate starnped with 
 no less illustrious a name than the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury. Your lordship hath 
 signed your name in a steady and workman- 
 like fashion, so that none henceforth shall bo 
 able to malign your conduct on this da}^ ; 
 they shall not say that you were terrified, or 
 bribed, or were in a state of liquor on the day 
 of your marriage ; all is free and above sus- 
 picion. I congratulate your lordship on this 
 auspicious occasion. Roger, your mark here 
 as witness. So. It is customary, my lord, to 
 present the officiating clergyman, myself, with 
 a fee, from a guinea upwards, proportionate 
 to the rank and station of the happy bride- 
 groom. From your lordship will I take 
 nothing for myself; for the witness I will 
 take a guinea.' 
 
 Here the bridegroom pulled out his purse 
 and threw it on the table. He spoke not a 
 word, however ; I think his brain was 
 wandering, and he knew not what he did. 
 Yet he obeyed the voice of the doctor, and 
 fell into the trap that was set for him, like a 
 silly bird allured by the whistle of the fowler. 
 I am certain that he knew not what he did.
 
 THE DOCTORS REVENGE, 269 
 
 The doctor pulled one guinea from the 
 purse, and handed it back to the owner. 
 
 ' Koger/ he said, ^ go drink his lordship's 
 health ; and hark ye — silence. If I hear that 
 you have told of this morning's doings, it shall 
 be the worst day in all your life. I threaten 
 not in vain. Go !' 
 
 Then the doctor took up the tankard of 
 ale which stood in the window^seat. 
 
 ^ Your health, my lord ;' he drank a little 
 and passed it to his lordship, who drained it ; 
 and then, with a strange, wild look, he reeled 
 to the doctor's arm-chair and instantly fell 
 fast asleep. 
 
 * Your husband is not a drunkard, Kitty, 
 though this morning he apj)ears in that 
 light.' 
 
 ' But am I married X I asked. 
 
 ' You are really married. You are no 
 longer Kitty Pleydell : you are Catherine, 
 Lady Chudleigh. I wish your ladyship joy.' 
 
 I stared at him. 
 
 ' But he does not know me ; he never saw 
 me,' I remonstrated. 
 
 * That he does not know you yet is very 
 true,' replied the doctor. ' When the fitting
 
 270 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 time comes for him to know you, be sure that 
 I will remind him. For the present he shall 
 not know whom he has married/ 
 
 ' I perceive,' he went on, seeing that I made 
 no reply, ' that thou art a good and obedient 
 child. Ask no questions of me. Say not 
 one word to anyone of this day's work. Be 
 silent, and thou shalt have thy reward. Ke- 
 member — he silent. Now, go, child. Go, 
 Lady Chudleigh.'
 
 CHAPTER XTII. 
 
 HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE OUT OF SLEEP. 
 
 Alas ! there was small pride in that thought. 
 What joy of being Lady Chudleigh, when I 
 had to pick my way home through the dirty 
 and crowded market, thinking of the pain 
 and grief this wicked thing would cause my 
 ladies when they learned it, of the shame 
 with which my father's soul would have been 
 filled had he known it, and the wrath of 
 Lady Levett when she should hear it I ' Oh, 
 Kitty !' I thought, * how miserably art thou 
 changed in four short months ! In the happy 
 fields at home, everything (save when the 
 rustics swore at their cattle) breathed of 
 religion and virtue ; in this dreadful place, 
 everything leads to profligacy and crime. 
 And what a crime ! And the poor young
 
 272 THE CHAPLAIN 01 THE TLEET 
 
 gentleman ! Did ever anyone hear the hke, 
 that a young gM, not yet quite seventeen, 
 should thus consent to marry a man whom 
 she had never seen ! Oh, shame and dis- 
 grace ! And that young man, so handsome 
 and so gallant, albeit so tipsy that he could 
 scarcely stand. Who would have thought, 
 four months ago, that Kitty would be that 
 wicked creature V Afterwards, I thought of 
 the dreadful wickedness of marrying while 
 still in mourning for a father not yet six 
 months dead. But I confess that at first, so 
 confused was I, that this thought did not 
 oppress me. Indeed, there was almost too 
 much to think about. Suppose I was, by a 
 careless word, to reveal the secret \ Suppose 
 the rascal Koger were to tell it abroad in the 
 market ! Suppose the young man (v;hose 
 name I did not dare to pronounce) were to 
 see me, and find my name ! Suppose the 
 doctor were at once to reveal to my — hus- 
 band, I suppose I ought to call him — who 
 and what I was ! All these thoughts, 1 say, 
 crowded into mv mind too^ether, and filled me 
 with repentant terrors. 
 
 I went straight home, because there was
 
 HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 273 
 
 no other place to go to. Mrs. Deborah re- 
 minded me, when I had taken off my hood, that 
 Ave were still engaged upon the long outstand- 
 ing account between Richard Roe, gentleman, 
 and Kobert Doe, draper. It w^as one of the 
 problems of the Book-keeping Treatise, how 
 rightly to state this account to the satisfac- 
 tion both of Doe (who wanted all he could get), 
 and of Koe (who wanted to pay as little as 
 possible). I remember that Richard Roe 
 had not only bought extraordinary things 
 (for a gentleman), such as ladies' hoops and 
 paniers, but had bought them in immense 
 quantities, to be explained, perhaps, by the 
 supposition that he was a benefactor to the 
 female sex, or perhaps that he was shipping 
 things to Madagascar, where I believe a 
 sarsnet pinner, if in scarlet, is considered 
 worth a diamond as big as a pigeon's ^gg ; 
 and a few bottles of eau de Chypre are 
 thought a bargain, if purchased by a ruby 
 weighing a pound or so. 
 
 We had been engaged for a month upon a 
 statement of the account showing the exact 
 liabilities of Richard Roe (who used to pay 
 in odd sums, with pence and farthings, at 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 2 74 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 unexpected times) ; we never got it right, 
 and then we began again. Fortunately, it 
 costs nothing to clean a slate. 
 
 I sat down to this task with listless brain. 
 What girl, after being so suddenly hurled 
 into matrimony, with the possession of so 
 great a secret, could take any interest in the 
 debts of Kichard Roe ? The figures got 
 mixed ; presently, I was fain to lay the slate 
 aside, and to declare that I could do no more 
 that day. 
 
 Nor, indeed, could I do anything — not 
 even hear what was said, so that my ladies 
 thought I was sickening for some fever ; 
 which was not improbable, fever being rife 
 at this time, owing to the smell from the 
 vegetables, and one of the little Dunquerques 
 in our own house down with it. Ah ! could 
 they only have guessed the truth, what 
 sorrow and pity would have been theirs, with 
 what righteous wrath at the sin ! 
 
 When I was gone, the doctor called back 
 Roger, and they carried the unhappy bride- 
 groom again to the bedroom, where they laid 
 him on the bed and then left him to himself.
 
 HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 275 
 
 ' He will sleep/ said the doctor, experienced 
 in these cases, ^ until the afternoon. Have a 
 cup of mutton-broth for him when he wakes, 
 with a pint of small ale.' 
 
 Then he returned, and the ordinary busi- 
 ness of the day began. The couples came 
 in — half-a-dozen of them. One pair gave 
 him five guineas. They were an Irishman, 
 who thought he was marrying a rich widow ; 
 and a woman head over ears in debt, who 
 thought she was marrying a wealthy squire. 
 A week afterwards the unhappy bridegroom 
 came to the doctor to undo the match, which 
 was impossible. He escaped his wife's creditors, 
 however, and took to the road, where, after 
 many gallant exploits, he was caught, tried, 
 and hanged at Tyburn, making a gallant and 
 edifying end, and ruffling it bravely to the 
 very foot of the ladder. The day, therefore, 
 was profitable to the doctor. 
 
 ' Well begun, Koger,' he said, ' is well done. 
 The morning's work is worth ten guineas. I 
 would rest this afternoon ; wherefore, bring 
 no more couples. Yet one would fain not 
 disappoint the poor creatures. Let them 
 come, then, Koger. We may not weary in 
 
 18—2
 
 276 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Avell-doing. And, hark ye, take this guinea 
 to Mistress Dunquerque — not the captain, 
 mind — and bid her spend it for the children ; 
 and inquire whether Mr. Stallabras hath paid 
 his rent lately : if not, pay it ; and buy me, 
 on Ludgate Hill, a hat and feathers for Miss 
 Kitty ; and, varlet I if thou so much as 
 breathe of what was done here this morning 
 — I threaten not, but I know the history of 
 thy life. Think of the past ; think of New- 
 gate, close by ; and be silent as the grave.' 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon, when 
 the doctor, after his dinner, sat over a cool 
 pipe of Virginia, Lord Chudleigh came down- 
 stairs. He Y/as dressed and in his right 
 mind, although somewhat flushed of cheek 
 and his hand shaky. 
 
 ' Dr. Shovel,' he said, ' I thank you for 
 your hospitality, and am sorry that I have 
 abused it. I am ashamed to have fallen into 
 so drunken and helpless a condition.' 
 
 'Your lordship,' said the doctor, rising and 
 bowing, ' is w^elcome to such hospitality as 
 this poor house of a prisoner in the Liberties 
 of the Fleet can show a nobleman of your 
 rank. I am the more bound to show this
 
 HOW LORD CHUD LEIGH WOKE. 277 
 
 welcome to your lordship, because, for such 
 as is my condition, I am beholden to the late 
 Lord Chudleigh.' 
 
 This was a speech which might have more 
 than one meaning. His lordship made no 
 answer, staring in some perplexity, and 
 fearful that the punch might still be in his 
 head. 
 
 * It was in this room,' he said presently, 
 ^ that we drank last night. I remember your 
 chair, and these walls ; but I remember little 
 more. Fie, doctor ! your way of treating 
 guests is too generous. Yet I have had a 
 curious and uneasy dream. Those books ' — ^he 
 pointed to the Kegister and the Prayer-book — 
 ' were those upon the table last night ? They 
 were in my dream — a very vivid and real 
 dream. I tliought I was standing here. 
 Your man was beside me. Opposite to me 
 was a girl, or woman, her face and figure 
 covered with a hood, so that I knew not 
 what she was like. Then you read the mar- 
 riage-service, drew the ring from off my 
 finger, and placed it upon hers. And you 
 pronounced us man and wife. A strange 
 and interesting dream !'
 
 2 78 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' What was tlie ring, my lord V 
 
 ' A diamond ring^ set round with seven 
 pearls ; within, the crest of my house, and 
 my initials.' 
 
 ' Let me see the ring, my lord.' 
 
 He changed colour. 
 
 ' I cannot find it.' 
 
 *My lord, I know where is that ring.' 
 The doctor spoke gravely, bending his great 
 eyebrows. Lord Chudleigh was a man of 
 fine presence, being at least five feet ten 
 inches in heio^ht, without countinof the heels 
 of his boots and the foretop of his wig. Yet 
 the doctor, whose heels were thicker and his 
 toupee higher, was six feet two without those 
 advantaofes. Therefore he towered over his 
 guest as he repeated : 
 
 ' I know where to find that ring 1' 
 
 ' You cannot mean, doctor ' cried Lord 
 
 Chudleigh, all the blood flying to his face. 
 
 ' I mean, my lord, simply this, that at 
 eight o'clock this morning, or thereabouts, you 
 rose, came downstairs, met a young lady who 
 was waiting for you, and were by me, in pre- 
 sence of trustworthy witnesses, duly and 
 properly married.'
 
 HOW L ORD CH UD LEIGH 1 YOKE. 2 7 9 
 
 ^ But it was a dream !' he cried, catching 
 at the table. 
 
 ' No dream at all, my lord. A fact, which 
 you will find it difficult to contradict. Your 
 marriage is entered in my Register; I have 
 the lines on a five-shilling stamp. I am an 
 ordained minister of the Church of England ; 
 the hours were canonical. It is true that I 
 may be fined a hundred pounds for consenting 
 to perform the ceremony ; but it will be hard to 
 collect that money. Meanwhile, those who 
 would inflict the fine, would be the last to 
 maintain that sacerdotal powers, conferred 
 upon me at ordination, can suffer any loss by 
 residence in the Rules of the Fleet. Ponder 
 this, my lord.' 
 
 ' Married !' cried Lord Chudleigh. ' Mar- 
 ried ? It is impossible.' 
 
 'Your dream, my lord, was no dream at 
 all, but sober truth, believe me.' 
 
 * Married X he repeated. 
 
 ' Married,' said Dr. Shovel. ' I fear that 
 your state of mind, during the perform- 
 ance of the ceremony, was not such as a 
 clergyman could altogether wish to see. Still, 
 who am I, to decide when a gentleman is too 
 drunk to marry 1'
 
 28o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 * Married ! Oh this is some dreadful dream ! 
 Where is my bride ? Show me my wife !' 
 
 * She is gone, Lord Chudleigh.' 
 ' Gone ! Where is she gone X 
 
 The doctor shook his head for an answer. 
 
 ' Who is she \ What is her name ? How 
 came she here X 
 
 ' I am sorry that I cannot answer your 
 lordship in these particulars. She came — 
 she was married — she went away ! In her 
 own good time she will doubtless appear 
 again.' 
 
 ' But who is she V he repeated. ^ What is 
 she like ? Why did she marry me V 
 
 ^ Why did your lordship marry her ? That, 
 methinks, would be the proper question.' 
 
 ' Show me your Register, man !' Lord 
 Chudleiofh was sober enous^h now, and brouo-ht 
 his fist down upon the table in peremptory 
 fashion. 'Show me your Kegister and your 
 certificate !' 
 
 ' Ta ! ta ! ta !' cried the doctor. ' Softly, 
 young man, softly ! We are not used to 
 threats in this chapel-of-ease, where I am 
 archbishop, bishop, and chaplain, all in one. 
 For the register, it is securely locked up ; for
 
 HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 281 
 
 the certificate, it is perhaps in the hands of 
 Lady Chudleigh.' 
 
 ' Lady Chudleigh !' 
 
 ' Perhaps her ladyship hath consigned it to 
 my keeping. In either case, yon shall not 
 see it.' 
 
 ' This is a conspirac}^/ cried Lord Chud- 
 leigh. ^ I have been deceived by rogues and 
 knaves ! This is no true marriagfe.' 
 
 ^ You would say that I am lying. Say so, 
 but, at your peril, tlnnlv so. You are as truly 
 married as if you had been united in your 
 own parish church, by your own bishop. 
 Believe that, for your own safety, if you 
 believe nothing else. At the right time, 
 her ladyship will be revealed to you. And 
 remember, my lord ' — here the doctor, tower- 
 ing over him, shook his great fore-finger in 
 warning or menace — ^ should you attempt 
 another marriage in the lifetime of your 
 present wife, you shall be brought to your 
 trial for bigamy as sure as my name is 
 Gregory Shovel. Laws, in this country, are 
 not altogether made for the punishment of 
 the poor, and even a peer may not marry 
 more than one woman.'
 
 282 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 * I will have this wickedness exposed/ cried 
 his lordship, hotly. 
 
 ' Alas ! my lord/ said the doctor, ' the 
 name of Gregory Shovel is already well 
 known. I am but what your father caused 
 me to be.' 
 
 ' My father ! Then there is revenge. . . . 
 The benefits which my father conferred upon 
 you ' 
 
 * They were greater than any I can confer 
 upon you. He kept me with him as his 
 private jester. I found him wit : he fed me 
 upon promises. He turned me forth, to be 
 flung into a debtor's prison. That, however, 
 was nothing. Your lordship will own ' — here 
 the doctor laughed, but without merriment 
 — * that I have returned good for evil ; for, 
 whereas your father robbed me of a wife, I 
 have presented you with one.' 
 
 ' villain !' cried my lord. ^ To revenge 
 the wrongs of the father upon the son — and 
 this Avretch continues to wear the gown of a 
 clergyman !' 
 
 * Say what you ]3lease. So rejoiced am I 
 with this day's work that I allow you to cast 
 at me what names come readiest to vour
 
 HOJV LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 283 
 
 tongue. But remember that curses some- 
 times come home.' 
 
 * Where is my wife, then V he demanded 
 furiously. 
 
 * I shall not tell you. Meantime, choose. 
 Either let this matter be known to all the 
 world, or let it remain, for the present, a 
 secret between you and me. As for the lady, 
 she will be silent. As for the rogue, my 
 clerk, if he so much as breathes the secret to 
 the cabbage-stalks, I have that which will 
 hang him.' 
 
 * I want to see the woman who calls her- 
 self my Avife,' he persisted. 
 
 ' That shall you not. But perhaps, my 
 lord, you would like to go home to St. 
 James's Square with such a wedding-party as 
 we could provide for you : a dozen of Fleet 
 parsons fuddled; the bride's friends, who might 
 be called from their stalls in the market ; the 
 music of the butchers, with salt - boxes, 
 marrow-bones, and cleavers ; the bride her- 
 self. Look out of the window, my lord. 
 Which of the ragged baggages and trollops 
 among the market-women most takes your 
 lordship's fancy '?'
 
 284 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Lord Chudleio:h looked and shuddered. 
 
 ' Go your way/ the doctor went on, ' and 
 always remember you have a spouse. Some 
 day, for the better glorifying of your noble 
 name, I will produce her. But not yet. Be 
 under no immediate apprehension. Not yet. 
 At some future time, when you are happy in 
 the applause of a nation and the honours of a 
 sovereign, when your way is clear before you 
 and your conscience gives you the sweet balm 
 of approbation, when you have forgotten this 
 morning, we shall come, your wife and I, 
 Avith " Koom for my Lady Chudleigh ! Way 
 there for her ladyship and Dr. Gregory Shovel 
 from the Eules of the Fleet !" ' 
 
 ' Man,' replied Lord Chudleigh, ' I believe 
 you are a devil. Do what you will ; do your 
 worst. Yet know that the woman may pro- 
 claim her infamy and your own ; as for me, I 
 will not speak to her, nor listen to her, nor 
 own her.' 
 
 ' Good !' said the doctor, rubbing his hands. 
 ' We talk in vain. I now bid farewell to 
 your lordship. Those convivial evenings 
 which you desired to witness will still con- 
 tinue. Let me hope to welcome your lord-
 
 HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 285 
 
 ship again on the scene of your unexpected 
 triumphs. Many, indeed, is the man who 
 hath come to this house sino-le and sfone out 
 of it double ; but none for whom awaits a 
 future of such golden promise. My most 
 hearty congratulations on this auspicious and 
 joyful event ! What can come out of this 
 place but youth, beauty, birth, and virtue ? 
 And yet, my lord, there is one singularity in 
 the case. One moment, I pray ' — for Lord 
 Chudleigh was already outside the door — 
 ^ you are the only man I ever knew^ who 
 spent his honeymoon — alone !'
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 
 
 No one would be interested to read more of 
 my shame and repentance at that tmie ; nor 
 does it help to tell how the doctor was asked 
 by my ladies if I was subject to any kind of 
 illness for which I might be sickening. The 
 reply of the doctor to them, and his private 
 admonitions to myself, may be partly passed 
 over ; it was true, no doubt, as he said while 
 I trembled before him, that a young girl, 
 ignorant and untaught, w^ould do well to 
 trust her conscience into the spiritual direc- 
 tion of a regularly ordained clergyman of the 
 Church of England like himself As for the 
 marriage, I was to remember that it w^as 
 done and could not be undone. He hung 
 round my neck by a black ribbon the diamond
 
 HOW MRS, DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 287 
 
 ring, my wedding ring, by which to keep my 
 condition ever before myself; to be sure it 
 was not likely that I should forget it, without 
 the glitter and sparkle of the brilliants, which 
 I used to look at night and morning in secret. 
 What did he think of me, this husband of 
 mine, the young man with the handsome 
 face, the white hands, and the fixed, strange 
 eyes ? Did he, night and morning, every 
 day curse his unknown wife ? 
 
 ' Let him curse,' said the doctor. ' Words 
 break no bones ; curses go home again ; deeds 
 cannot be undone. Patience, Kitty ! before 
 long thou shalt be confessed by all the world, 
 the Lady Chudleigh. Come, cheer up, 
 child I' he concluded kindly. ' As for what is 
 done, it is done. Partly T did it to clear off 
 an old score, whereof I may perhaps tell thee 
 at another time, and partly for thy honour 
 and glory. Thy father, Kitty, w^as proud of 
 his name and family, though he married my 
 sister, the daughter of a tenant farmer ; but 
 never a Pleydell yet has been lifted up so 
 high as thou shalt be : while as to the 
 Shovels, I am myself the only great man 
 they have yet sent into the world, and they
 
 288 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 are not likely to go beyond the Chaplain of 
 the Fleet.' 
 
 Then he held up his great forefinger, 
 as long and thick as a school ruler, bent 
 his shaggy eyebrows, and pushed out his 
 lips. 
 
 '■ Kemember, child, silence I And go no 
 more moping and sorrowful, because thou 
 shalt soon sit in thine own coach, with the 
 world at thy feet, singing the praises of the 
 beautiful Lady Chudleigh. Such a girl as 
 my Kitty for Sir Miles Lackington ? Why, 
 he hath eyes for the beauty of a glass of Bor- 
 deaux — he hath sense to rejoice over a bowl 
 of punch ; but from Helen of Troy or Cleo- 
 patra of Egypt he would turn away for a 
 bottle of port. Or Stallabras, now — should 
 such a creature as he presume to think of 
 such a woman ? Let poets sing of women at 
 a distance — the farther off the better they 
 sing — that is right. Why, child, such curls 
 as thine, such roses of red and white, such 
 brown eyes, such lips and cheek and chin, 
 such a figure as thou canst show to dazzle 
 the eyes of foolish boys — Lord Chudleigh 
 should go on his knees before me in gratitude
 
 HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 289 
 
 and transport. And, believe me, some day 
 he will' 
 
 We are all alike, we women. Call us beautiful, 
 and you please us. It was almost the first time 
 that anyone had called me beautiful save Sir 
 Miles Lackingtonwhen in his cups, or Solomon 
 Stallabras in his poetic way. Yet every 
 pretty girl knows that she is pretty. There 
 are a thousand thinos to tell her : the 
 whispers of the w^omen, the sidelong looks of 
 the folk in the streets, the envy of envious 
 girls, the praise of kindly girls, her glass, the 
 deference paid by men of all classes and all 
 ages to beauty, the warnings of teachers, 
 nurses, governesses and matrons that beauty 
 is but skin deep, virtue is better than looks, 
 handsome is as handsome does, 'tis better to 
 be good than pretty, comeliness lasts but a 
 year, while goodness lasts for ever, and so 
 on — all these things make a girl on whom 
 heaven has bestowed this most excellent gift 
 of beauty know quite as well as other people 
 what she possesses, though she knows not 
 yet the power of the gift. 
 
 'You are pretty, child,' said Mrs. Esther 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET, 
 
 to me on the very same day as the doctor. 
 '■ You will be a beautiful woman.' 
 
 * Which is no good to a girl in the Rules,' 
 said Mrs. Deborah, * but rather a snare and a 
 danger.' 
 
 ^ Nay, sister/ said Mrs. Esther, ' it is a con- 
 solation to be beautiful. You, dear, when 
 we were thirty years younger, were beautiful 
 enough to melt the heart even of the monster 
 Bambridge.' 
 
 * A beautiful face and person/ Mrs. Deborah 
 added, with a smile on her poor face as she 
 thought of the past, * should belong to a good 
 and virtuous soul. In the better world I 
 have no doubt that the spirits of the just 
 will arise in such beauty of face and form as 
 shall be unto themselves and their friends an 
 abiding joy.' 
 
 Let us think so ; when I die it may be a 
 consolation to me that a return to the beauty 
 of my youth is nigh at hand. I am but a 
 woman, and there is nothing in the world — 
 except the love of my husband and my 
 children — that I think more precious than 
 my past beauty. 
 
 Soothed, then, by my uncle's flatteries,
 
 HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 291 
 
 comforted by his promises, and terrified by: 
 his admonitions, I fell in a very few days 
 into the dreams by which youth beguiles the 
 cares of the present. My husband, Lord 
 Chudleigh, would go his own way and never 
 ask after me ; I should go mine as if he did 
 not exist ; some time or other we should leave 
 the Liberties of the Fleet, and go to live near 
 Lady Levett and my dear Nancy. As for 
 the coronet and the rank, I was too ignorant 
 to think much about them. They were so 
 high above me, I knew so little what they 
 meant, that I no more thought of getting 
 them than of getting David's harp and crown. 
 I waited, therefore, being a wife and yet no 
 wife, married and yet never seen by my hus- 
 band ; sacrificed to the wrath of the doctor, 
 as that poor Greek maiden in the story told 
 me by my father, murdered at Aulis to ap- 
 pease the wrath of a goddess. 
 
 Two events happened which, between 
 them, quite drove the marriage out of my 
 mind, and for awhile made me forget it alto- 
 gether. 
 
 The first of these was the illness of Mrs. 
 Deborah. 
 
 19—2
 
 292 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 There was fever about the market, as I 
 have said ; one of the little girls of Mrs. 
 Dunquerque, in our house, was laid down 
 with it. In autumn there was alw?tys fever 
 in the place, caused, my ladies said, by the 
 chill and fog of the season, by the stench of 
 the vegetables and fruit of the market, and 
 perhaps by the proximity of Newgate, where 
 gaol fever Avas always cheating the gallows. 
 One day, therefore, Mrs. Deborah lay down, 
 and said she would rather not get up again 
 any more. She would not eat, nor would she 
 have any medicine except a little tar-water 
 which seemed to do her no good. When she 
 got very ill indeed, she consented to see an 
 apothecary ; he prescribed blood-letting, 
 which, contrary to expectation, made her 
 only weaker. Then we went to the old 
 woman who kept a herb shop at the other 
 end of Fleet Lane, and was more skilful 
 than any physician. She gave us feverfew, 
 camomile, and dandelion, of Avhich we made 
 hot drinks. As the patient grew worse in- 
 stead of better, she made an infusion of 
 shepherd's-purse, pennycress, and pepper- 
 Avort, to stimulate the system ; she brought
 
 HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 293 
 
 a tansy-pudding, which poor Mrs. Deborah 
 refused to eat ; and when gentian water 
 fliiled, the old woman could do no more. 
 
 On the fifth day, Mrs. Deborah gave her- 
 self up, and contemplated her end in a be- 
 coming spirit of cheerfulness. She com- 
 forted her sister with the hope that she, 
 too, would before long join her in a world 
 * where there is no noise, my dear, no 
 fighting, no profane swearing, no dirt, no 
 confusion, no bawling, no starving, no humili- 
 ation. There shall we sit in peace and quiet, 
 enjoying the dignity and respect which will 
 be no doubt paid to two Christian gentle- 
 w^omen.' 
 
 ' I might have known it,' sighed poor Mrs. 
 Esther in her tears. ' Only a week ago a 
 strano^e dos^ howled all nicrht below our 
 window. I should have known it for a 
 warning, sent for you, my dear, or me, or 
 for Kitty. It cannot have been meant for 
 Sir Miles, for the poor gentleman, being in 
 his cups, would not notice it : nor to Mr. 
 Stallabras, 'for he sets no store by such 
 warninofs.' 
 
 ^ It was for me,' said Mrs. Deborah with
 
 294 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 resignation, while Mrs. Esther went on re- 
 collecting omens. 
 
 ' Last night I heard the death-watch. 
 Then indeed, sister, I gave you up.' 
 
 ' It was a message for me,' said the sick 
 woman, as if she had been Christiana in the 
 story. 
 
 ^ And this morning I heard a hen crow in 
 the market — a hen in a basket. Alas ! who 
 can have any doubt ?' 
 
 * It is but six weeks,' said Mrs. Deborah, 
 feebly, ^ since a hearse on its way to a funeral 
 stopped before our door. I remember now, 
 but we little thought then, what that meant.' 
 
 ' I saw, only a fortnight ago,' continued 
 Mrs. Esther, *a winding-sheet in the tallow. 
 I thought it pointed at Kitty, but would 
 not frighten the child. Sister, we are but 
 purblind mortals.' 
 
 Far be it from me to laugh at beliefs 
 which have so deep a root in Englishwomen's 
 hearts : nor is it incredible to those who be- 
 lieve in the divine interference, that signs 
 and warnings of death should be sent before- 
 hand, if only to turn the thoughts heaven- 
 ward and lead sinners to repent. But this I
 
 now MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 295 
 
 think, that if poor Mrs. Deborah had not 
 accepted these warnings for herself, she 
 might have hved on to a green old age, as 
 did her sister. Being, therefore, convinced 
 in her mind that her time was come, she was 
 only anxious to make due preparation. She 
 would have been disappointed at getting 
 well, as one who has packed her boxes for a 
 long journey, but is told at the last moment 
 that she must wait. 
 
 As she grew weaker, her brain began to 
 wander. She talked of Bagnigge Wells, of 
 Cupid's Garden, the entertainments of her 
 father's company, and the childish days when 
 everything was hopeful. While she talked, 
 Mrs. Esther wept and whispered to me : 
 
 ' She was so pretty and merry ! Oh ! 
 child, if you could have seen us both in our 
 young days— if you could have seen my 
 Deborah Avith her pretty saucy ways ; her 
 roguish smile, her ready wit made all to love 
 her ! Ah I me— me — those happy days ! and 
 now 1 My dear Deborah, it is well that thou 
 shouldst go.' 
 
 This was on the morning of Mrs. Deborah's 
 last day in life. In the afternoon her senses
 
 296 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 returned to her, and \v^e propped her up, pale 
 and weak, and listened while she spoke words 
 of love and farewell to be kept sacred in the 
 memory of those who had to go on living. 
 
 ' For thirty years, dear sister/ she mur- 
 mured, while their two thin hands were held 
 in each other's clasp — ' for thirty years we 
 have prayed daily unto the Lord to have 
 pity upon all prisoners and captives, mean- 
 ing, more especially, ourselves. Now, unto 
 me hath He shown this most excellent 
 mercy, and calleth me away to a much 
 better place than we can imagine or de- 
 serve. I had thought it would be well if 
 He would lead us out of this ward to some 
 place where, m green lanes and fields, we 
 might meditate for a space in quiet before 
 we died. I should like to have heard the 
 song of the lark and seen the daisies. But 
 God thinks otherwise.' 
 
 ' Oh, sister — sister !' cried Mrs. Esther. 
 
 ' '' There shall be no more death, neither 
 sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be 
 any more pain," ' said Mrs. Deborah. ^ Kitty, 
 child,' she turned her j)ale face to me, ^ be 
 kind to my sister.'
 
 HOW MRS, DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 297 
 
 We wept together. Outside there was 
 the usual tumult of the market — men buy- 
 ing and selling, with shouts and cries; within, 
 three women weeping, and one dying. 
 
 * Go, dear/ said she who was dying; 'call 
 the doctor. He hath been very generous to 
 us. Tell him I would receive the last offices 
 from his hands.' 
 
 The doctor came. He read the appointed 
 service in that deep voice of his, Avhich was 
 surely given him for the conversion of the 
 wicked. The tears streamed down his face 
 as he bent over the bed, saying in the 
 words of the Epistle appointed : ' " My 
 daughter, despise not thou the chastening of 
 the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked 
 of Him. For whom the Lord loveth He 
 chasteneth ; and scourge th every child whom 
 He receiveth." ' 
 
 In the evening the poor lady died, being 
 released from her long imprisonment by that 
 Eoyal Mandate, the Will of God. 
 
 We buried her in the green and pleasant 
 churchyard of IsHngton. It is a sweet spot, 
 far removed from tlie noise of London ; and 
 though her poor remains feel nothing, nor
 
 298 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 can hear any more tlie tumult of crowds, it 
 is good to think that round her are no streets, 
 only the few houses of the village. She lies 
 surrounded by fields and trees ; the daisies 
 grow over her grave, the lark sings above the 
 church : she is at rest and in peace.
 
 CHAPTEK XV, 
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 
 
 After poor Mrs. Deborah's death my lessons 
 came to a sudden stop, and have never been 
 resumed. Some of that perspicacity of style 
 which I have often admired in our modern 
 divines might have fallen to my lot, to 
 enrich this narrative, had I continued in my 
 course of single and double book-keeping. 
 
 ^ I am not clever,' said Mrs. Esther, ' like 
 Deborah. She was always the clever one as 
 well as the beauty. That gave her a right to 
 her little tempers, poor dear. I cannot teach 
 astronomy, because one star is to me exactly 
 like another. Nor do I know auo^ht about 
 book-keeping, except that it is a very useful 
 and necessary science. Therefore, Kitty, 
 thou must go untaught. For that matter,
 
 300 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 I think you know as much as a woman need 
 ever know, which is to read, to write — but 
 one ought not to expect of a woman such 
 exactness in spelhng as of a scholar — and 
 to cipher to such a moderate degree as may 
 enable her to add up her bills. But it 
 grieves me to think you are growing up so 
 tall and strais^ht without learnino- how to 
 make so much as a single cordial, or any 
 strong waters. And with our means, w^hat 
 chance of teaching you to toss a pancake, 
 fold an omelette, or dish a Yorkshire 
 pudding ?' 
 
 It was then that we beoan to console our- 
 selves for my ignorance, our troubles, and 
 even, I bear mind, for our late sad loss, by 
 reading ^ Clarissa,' a book which the doctor, 
 ever watchful in the interests of virtue, pre- 
 sented to Mrs. Esther with a speech of con- 
 dolence. He said that it was a work whose 
 perusal could not fail most strongly to con- 
 sole her spirit and to dispose her for resigna- 
 tion ; while for purity of morals, for justice 
 of observation, and for knowledge of the 
 human heart, it was unequalled in any 
 language. He then made a digression, and
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 301 
 
 compared the work with the ancient Greek 
 romances. Adventure, he said, was to be 
 found in Hehodorus, and the story told by 
 Apuleius of Cupid and Psyche was exqui- 
 sitely pathetic ; yet none of the earlier 
 writers could be compared, or even named 
 in the same breath, with Mr. Eichardson, 
 who reminded him especially of Sophocles, in 
 the tenderness Avith which he prepared the 
 minds of his audience for the impending 
 tragedy which he could not alter or abate, 
 seeing that it was the will of Necessity. 
 There was nothing, he went on to say, more 
 calculated to inspire or to strengthen senti- 
 ments, of virtue in the breasts of the young 
 — and especially in the young of the femi- 
 nine sex — than a contemplation of Clarissa's 
 virtue and Lovelace's wickedness. We were 
 greatly edified by these praises, coming from 
 so great a scholar and one so eminently fitted 
 to discourse on virtue. We received the 
 work, pre^Dared (so far as I w^as concerned) to 
 partake of food for reflection of the satisfying 
 kind (so that the reader quickly lays aside 
 the work while he meditates for a few days 
 on what he has read) which is suj)plied by
 
 302 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 the pious ' Drelincourt on Death,' Hervey's 
 '■ Meditations among the Tombs, or Young's 
 ' Night Thoughts.' 
 
 ' After dinner, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, 
 ' you shall read it aloud to me. Do not stop 
 if I shut my eyes in order to hear the better. 
 These good books should be carefully listened 
 to, and read very slowly. Otherwise their 
 lessons may be overlooked, and this would be 
 a sad pity after all the good doctor's trouble 
 in first reading the book for us. What 
 scholarship, Kitty ! and wdiat a passion, nay, 
 what an ardour, for virtue animates that 
 reverend heart !' 
 
 I cannot but pause here to ask whether if 
 Mr. Kichardson had chosen to depict to the 
 life the character of a clergyman, who had 
 fallen into such ways as my uncle, wdth his 
 sins, his follies, his degradation, the doctor 
 would himself have laid it to heart ? Alas ! 
 I fear not. We know not ourselves as we 
 are : w^e still go dreaming we are something 
 better than we seem to others : we have a 
 second and unreal self : the shafts of the 
 satirist seem to pierce the hearts of others. 
 I am sure that manv a Lovelace, fresh from
 
 HOW MRS, ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 303 
 
 the ruin of another Clarissa (if, indeed, there 
 could be another creature so incomparable), 
 must have read this great romance with tears 
 of pity and indignation. Otherwise the race 
 of Lovelaces would long since have become 
 extinct. 
 
 We received, therefore, ' Clarissa,' expecting 
 edification, but not joy. We even put it 
 aside for a week, because Mrs. Esther hardly 
 felt herself, at first, strong enough to begin a 
 new book, which might flood her mind with 
 new ideas and make her unsettled. At last, 
 however, she felt that we must no longer 
 postpone obeying the doctor. 
 
 ' Only a short chapter, my dear, to begin 
 with. Heavens ! how shall we struggle 
 throuo^h eigfht long* volumes f 
 
 I shall be ever thankful that it was my 
 duty to read these dear delightful pages of 
 this great romance. You may judge of our 
 joy when we read on, day after day, hurrying 
 over household work in the morning, neglect- 
 ing our walks abroad, and wasting candle- 
 light in the evening the more to enjoy it. 
 We laid aside the book from time to time 
 while we wept over the author's pathetic
 
 304 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 scenes. Oh, the horrid usage of poor Clarissa ! 
 Was ever girl more barbarously served ? Was 
 ever man so wicked as her lover % Were 
 parents ever so blinded by prejudice ? Had 
 girl ever so unkind a brother — ever so per- 
 verse a sister ? I thought of her all day 
 lono', and at ni^ht I dreamed of her : the 
 image of Clarissa was never absent from my 
 brain. 
 
 Everything in the book w^as as real to me 
 as the adventures of Kobinson Crusoe or 
 those of Christian on his pilgrimage from the 
 City of Destruction. So long as the reading 
 of this immortal book lasted — we read j)age 
 after page twice, thrice, or four tunes over, 
 to get out of them the fullest measure of 
 sympathy, sorrow, and delight — we loved 
 with Clarissa : her sorrows were ours : we 
 breathed and talked Clarissa : Mrs. Esther 
 even prayed, I believe — though the book was 
 ah'eady printed, and therefore it was too late 
 for prayer — that the poor, sweet innocent 
 might escape the clutches of her wicked lover, 
 who, sure, was more a demon than a man : 
 we carried the thought of Clarissa even to 
 church with us.
 
 BOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 305 
 
 We invited our friends to shai^e with us 
 this new-found joy. Solomon Stallabras was 
 always ready to weep with us over a dish of 
 tea. Never any man had a heart more 
 formed for the tenderest sensibility. Kty 
 that his nose was so broad and so much 
 turned up ! Otherwise, this natural tender- 
 ness might have been manifested in his coun- 
 tenance. While I read he gazed upon my 
 face, and was fain, from time to time, to draw 
 forth his handkerchief and wipe the tears 
 from his streaming eyes. 
 
 ' Stop, Miss Kitty !' he would say ; * let us 
 pause awhile : let us come back to virtue and 
 ourselves. It is too much : the spectacle of 
 so much youth and beauty, so much inno- 
 cence — the fate of our poor Clarissa — read 
 by a nymph whose lot is so below her merits 
 — it is too much^ Mrs. Pimpernel — it is in- 
 deed !' 
 
 In some way, while I read, this poet, whose 
 imagination, as became his profession, was 
 strong, mixed up Clarissa with myself, and 
 imaofined that mv endino: inioiit be in some 
 way similar to that of the heroine. Now, 
 with Solomon Stallabras, to think w^as to 
 
 VOL. I. 20
 
 3o6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 believe. Nothing: was wanting^ but a Love- 
 lace. I believe that he waited about the 
 market in hopes of finding him lurking in 
 some corner. Perhaps he even suspected 
 poor Sir Miles. Had he found him, he 
 assured Mrs. Esther, he fully intended to 
 pierce him to the heart with a spit or skewer 
 from one of the butchers' stalls ; adding that 
 it would be sweet for him to die, even from 
 the cart at Tyburn, for my sake. But no 
 Lovelace was trying to make me leave my 
 shelter with Mrs. Esther. 
 
 Sometimes Sir Miles Lackington came to 
 join in the reading, but we found him wanting 
 in sensibility. Without that quality, Richard- 
 son's novels cannot be enjoyed. He inclined 
 rather to the low humour which makes men 
 enjoy Fielding's ' Tom Jones,' or Smollett's 
 '' Peregrine Pickle ' — works full, no doubt, of 
 a coarse vitality which some men like, but 
 quite wanting in the delicate shades of feeling 
 that commend an author to the delicacy of 
 gentlewomen. And to think that old Samuel 
 Richardson was nothing but a printer by 
 trade ! Heaven, which denied this most 
 precious gift of creation to such tender and
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 307 
 
 poetic souls as that of Solomon Stallabras, 
 vouchsafed to bestow it upon a printer — a 
 mechanical printer, who, if he was not paid 
 for setting up type himself, yet employed 
 common workmen, superintended their 
 labours, paid them their wages, and put 
 profits into his purse. It seems incredible, 
 but then Shakespeare was only an actor. 
 
 'The sunshine of genius,' said Solomon, 
 ' falls upon the children of the lowly as well 
 as those of the rich. I am myself a scion of 
 Fetter Lane.' 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, Sir Miles Lackington 
 was so wanting in delicacy, and so rude as 
 to lauofh at us for our tears. 
 
 * You cry over Kichardson/ he said ; ' but 
 if I were to bring you ^'Tom Jones" I warrant 
 you would laugh.' 
 
 ''^Tom Jones,"' said Mrs. Esther, 'is 
 clearly a work of coarseness. Ladies do not 
 wish to laugh. The laws of decorum forbid 
 unrestrained mirth to females of good breed- 
 ing. Fielding may suit the jiewter pots of 
 the tavern ; Kichardson goes best with the 
 silver service of the mansion.' 
 
 We looked about us as if our room was the 
 
 20—2
 
 3o8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET 
 
 mansion and our cupboard was lined ^yith 
 silver dishes. 
 
 Sir Miles launched ao^ain. 
 
 ' Give me a pewter mug well filled and 
 often filled,' he said, 'with " Tom Jones" to 
 bear it company, and I ask no more. '' Clarissa" 
 and the silver service may remain with you, 
 ladies. Strange, however, that folk should 
 prefer a printer to a gentleman. Why,'rield- 
 ing comes of an honourable house.' 
 
 ^ Gentle blcod,' replied Mrs. Esther, ' does 
 not, unfortunately, always bring the gifts of 
 poetry and sensibility. You are yourself of 
 gentle birth, Sir Miles, yet you own that you 
 love not Richardson. Many great authors 
 have been of lowly extraction, and Mr. Stal- 
 labras was saying finely but yesterday, that 
 the sunshine of genius falls upon the children 
 of the poor as often as upon those of the rich.' 
 
 Solomon inclined his head and coloured; 
 Sir Miles laughed again in his easy fashion. 
 
 ' But,' he said, ' Mr. Hichardson knows 
 nothing about the polite ton. His men are 
 master tradesmen disguised in swords and 
 scarlet coats ; they are religious tradesmen, 
 wicked tradesmen, and so forth ; but they
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 309 
 
 are not gentlemen ; they cannot talk, think, 
 or walk, write, or act like gentlemen. If we 
 want to read about polite society, let us at 
 least ask gentlemen to write for u*^.' 
 
 Sir Miles read little, yet his judgment was 
 generally right, and since I have seen the 
 society of which Kichardson wrote, I have 
 learned that he was right in this case ; for 
 Bichardson, pathetic and powerful as he is, 
 had certainly never been among the class 
 whose manners and conversation he at- 
 tempted to pourtray. 
 
 Presently we finished ' Clarissa ' with 
 floods of tears. I believe that no book was 
 ever wTitten which has caused so many tears 
 as this work. Just then it was about the 
 end of the year : we had already eaten our 
 Christmas plum porridge in the darkest and 
 deadest time of the year, the time when fogs 
 fall over the town by day and stop all work : 
 when nights are long and days short : when 
 the market was quiet at night because it was 
 too cold to stand about or to lie in the open : 
 when all the fia-htins^ and brawlinof" were over 
 before five o'clock, and the evenings were 
 tranquil though they were long. It was just
 
 31 o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 after we ended our book, and were still tearful 
 under its influence, that our deliverance came 
 to us. 
 
 I think it was on the 31st of December 
 in that same year of grace, seventeen 
 hundred and fifty, in which I had come 
 to the Liberties, and twenty-nine full years 
 with some eleven months since the poor ladies 
 had been incarcerated. I well remember the 
 day, though not certain of the date. It 
 was evening : we had finished work : supper 
 was on the table when we should care to take 
 it — bread and an excellent Dutch cheese ; the 
 candle was extinguished, and we were sitting 
 before the fire. Mrs. Esther was talking, as 
 women love sometimes to talk, about the 
 little things they remember : she was telling 
 me — not for the first time — of the great frost 
 of 1714, when she was a young girl, and of 
 the fair which they held upon the ice ; of the 
 dreadful scare there was in 1718 from the 
 number of highwaymen and footpads, for 
 whose apprehension the Government offered 
 as much as £100 a head ; of Orator Henley, 
 who began to preach in Clare Market shortly 
 after the ladies came to the Fleet ; of the
 
 BO IV .l/.V-S. ESTHER WAS DIS CHARGED. 3 1 1 
 
 dreadful storm in 1739, which killed the 
 famous colony of sparrows in the Mile End 
 Road ; of the long frost of 1739, when from 
 Christmas unto February the poor watermen 
 and fishermen could not earn a single penny ; 
 of the fever of 1741 ; of the banishment of 
 papists before the Pretender's landing, in 
 1744; of the great Rebellion of 1745, when 
 the city so nobly did its duty. 
 
 'My cleor,' she said, 'we, that is the 
 citizens, becauee the prisoners of the Fleet 
 and the persons who enjoy the Liberties 
 could hardly be expected to contribute 
 money or aught but prayers — and most of 
 the poor creatures but little used to praying ! 
 — raised twelve thousand shirts with as many 
 garments to correspond, ten thousand 
 woollen caps (to serve, I suppose, as night- 
 caps for our brave fellows when they slept 
 in the open air), ten thousand pairs of stock- 
 ings, tw^elve thousand gloves, a thousand 
 blankets — which onlj^ makes one blanket for 
 twelve men, but I hope they took turns 
 about — and nine thousand spatterdashes. 
 There was a camp on Finchley Common, of 
 which we heard but did not visit ; the militia
 
 312 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 were kept in readiness — a double watch was 
 set at every one of the city gates ; there were 
 some in the Liberties, who thought that a suc- 
 cessful invasion of Encyland miofht lead to the 
 burning of account-books, registers, ledgers, 
 and warrants, in which case we might all get 
 out and keep out. For my own part, my 
 dear, and for my sister Deborah's part, I am 
 happy to say that we preferred the Protestant 
 succession even to our own freedom, and 
 wished for no such lawless ending to a cap- 
 tivity however unjust, but prayed night and 
 day for the confusion of the young Pretender. 
 Happily our prayers were answered, and great 
 George preserved.' 
 
 Then we talked of the past year, how it 
 had brought Mrs. Esther a daughter — as she 
 was good enough to say — and taken away a 
 sister. She cried a little over her loss, but 
 presently recovered, and taking my hand in 
 hers, said many kind and undeserved things 
 to me, who had been often petulant and 
 troublesome : as that we must not part, who 
 had been so strangely brought together, un- 
 less my happiness should take me away from 
 the Fleet (I thought, then, of my husband^
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 313 
 
 and wondered if he would ever come to take 
 me away), and then said that as we were at 
 New Year's Eve, we should make good re- 
 solutions for the next year, Avhich were to be 
 kept resolutsly, not broken and thrown away; 
 that for her part, she designed, if I agreed and 
 consented to the change, to call me niece, and 
 I should call her aunt, by which mutual 
 adoption of each other our affection and duty 
 one towards the other would be strencrthened 
 and founded, as it were, on a sure and stable 
 basis. 
 
 ' Not, my dear,' she added, ' that you can 
 ever call yourself a Pimpernel — an honour 
 granted to few — or that you should ever 
 wdsh to change your name ; but in all other 
 respects you shall be the same as if you were 
 indeed my own niece, the daughter of my 
 brother (but I never had one) or sister (but I 
 had only one, and she w^as as myself). Truly 
 the Pley dells are a w^orthy family of whom 
 w^e have no need to be ashamed.' 
 
 I was assurino^ her that nothino- could alter 
 my love and gratitude for her exceeding kind- 
 ness, when w^e heard footsteps and voices on 
 the stairs, and presently a knock at the door,
 
 3T4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 and the doctor stood before us. Behind hnn 
 were Sir Miles Lackington and Solomon 
 Stallabras. 
 
 ' Madam,' said the doctor, ' I wish you a 
 good evening, with the compUments of the 
 season. Merry as Avell as happy may you 
 be next year.' 
 
 I declare that directly I saw his face, my 
 heart leaped into my mouth. I hiew that 
 he was come with great and glorious news. 
 For his eyes glowed with the light of some 
 suppressed knowledge, and a capacious smile 
 began with his lips and glowed over the vast 
 expanse of his ruddy cheeks. 
 
 ' Merry, doctor — no. But happy if God 
 will.' 
 
 * Ta ! ta ! ta ! we shall see,' he replied. 
 ' Now, madam, T have a thing to say which 
 will take some time to say. I have taken 
 the liberty of bringing with me a bottle of 
 good old port, the best to be procured, which 
 strengthens the nerves and acts as a 
 sovereiofu cordial in cases of sudden excite- 
 ment. Besides, it is to-night New Year's 
 Eve, when all should rejoice." He produced 
 the bottle from under his gown and placed it
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 315 
 
 on the table. ' I have also taken the liberty 
 to bring with me our friends and well- 
 wishers, Sir Miles Lackington and Mr. 
 Stallabras, partly to — to — ' here he remem- 
 bered that a corkscrew was not likely to be 
 among our possessions — ' to draw the cork of 
 the bottle, a thing which Sir Miles does with 
 zeal and propriety.' The Baronet with great 
 gravity advanced and performed the opera- 
 tion by a dexterous handling of the poker, 
 which detached the upper part of the neck. 
 ' So,' continued the doctor ; ^ and partly that 
 they too, who have been so long our true 
 and faithful friends, may hear what I have to 
 say, and so that we may all rejoice together, 
 and, if need be, sing psalms with merry 
 hearts.' 
 
 Merry hearts ? Were we to sing psalms 
 with merry hearts in the place where for 
 thirty years every day had brought with it 
 its own suffering and disgrace to this poor 
 lady ? 
 
 Yet, what news could the doctor have 
 which made his purple face so glad, as if the 
 sunlio'ht instead of our fire of cannel coal 
 was shining full upon it \
 
 3t6 the chaplain OF THE FLEET. 
 
 * Kitty child,' he went on, ' light candles : 
 not one candle— two candles, three candies, 
 four candles — all the candles you have in the 
 jolace ; we will have an illumination. Sir 
 Miles, will you please to sit ? Mr. Stalla- 
 bras, will you take Kitty's chair 1 She will 
 be occupied in serving. Glasses, child, for 
 this honourable company. Why ' — he banged 
 his fist upon the table, but with considera- 
 tion, for it was not so strong as his own 
 great table — ^ why, I am happier this night 
 than ever I have been before, I think, in 
 all my life. Such a story as I have to 
 tell !' 
 
 I placed on the table the three candle- 
 sticks which formed all our stock, and set 
 candles in them and lit them. I put out 
 such glasses as we had, and then I stood 
 beside Mrs. Esther's chair and took her 
 hand in mine. I knew not what to expect, 
 yet I was certain that it was something very 
 good for Mrs. Esther. Had it been for me, 
 the doctor would have sent for me ; or for 
 himself, he would have told it without this 
 prodigality of joy. Surely it must be for my 
 good patron and protector ! My pulses were
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 317 
 
 bounding, and I could see that Mrs. Esther, 
 too, was rapidly rising to the same excite- 
 ment. 
 
 * Certain I am,' said Sir Miles, ' that some- 
 thing has happened. Doctor, let us quickl}^ 
 congratulate you. Let us drink your health. 
 I burn to drink some one's health.' 
 
 ' Should something have happened,' said 
 the poet, ' T would it were something good 
 for ladies who shall be nameless.' 
 
 ' Stay,' said the doctor. He stood while 
 the rest were sitting. He thus increased the 
 natural advantage of his great proportions. 
 ' We are not yet come to the drinking of 
 healths. But, Mrs. Pimpernel, I must first 
 invite you, before I go on with what I have 
 to sa}^, to take a glass of this most generous 
 vintage. The grapes which produced it grew 
 fat and strong in thinking of the noble part 
 they were about to fulfil : the sunshine of 
 Spain passed into their juices and filled them 
 Avith the spirit of strength and confidence : 
 that spirit lies imprisoned in the bottle before 
 us ' 
 
 ' It does — it does !' murmured Sir Miles, 
 gazing thoughtfully at the bottle.
 
 31 8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ' He ought to have been a poet !' whispered 
 Solomon. 
 
 The doctor looked round impatiently, and 
 swept the folds of his gown behind him with 
 a large gesture. 
 
 ' For what did the grapes rejoice % Why 
 was the vintage more than commonly rich ? 
 Because in the fulness of time it was destined 
 to comfort the heart and to strengthen the 
 courage of a most w^orthy and cruelly tried 
 lady. Indeed, Mrs. Pimpernel, wonderful are 
 the decrees of heaven ! Drink, madam.' 
 
 He poured out a glass of wine and handed 
 it to her. She stared in his face almost 
 stupidly : she was trying to repress a wild 
 thought which seized her : her lips were 
 parted, her gaze fixed, her hands trembling. 
 
 ' Drink it, madam,' ordered the doctor. 
 
 ' What is it ? oh ! what is it ?' she cried. 
 
 ' Drink the wine, madam,' said Sir Miles, 
 kindly. ^ Believe me, the wine will give you 
 courage.' 
 
 I took the glass and held it to her lips, 
 w^hile she drank submissively. 
 
 'With a bottle of port before him,' said 
 Sir Miles, encouragingly, ' a man may have
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 319 
 
 patience for anything. With the help of 
 such a friend, would I receive with resio^na- 
 tion and joy, good fortune for myself or 
 disasters to all my cousins, male and female. 
 Go on, doctor. The lady hath taken one 
 glass to prepare her palate for the next.' 
 
 ' Patience, now,' said the doctor, ^ and 
 silence, all of you. Solomon Stallabras, if 
 you liken me again to a poet, you shall leave 
 this room, and lose the joy of hearing what I 
 have to tell. 
 
 ' It is now some three months that the 
 thought came into my mind of investigating 
 the case of certain prisoners lying forgotten 
 in the prison or dragging along a wretched 
 existence in the Rules. It matters not what 
 these cases were, or how I have sped in my 
 search. One case, however, has filled me 
 with gratitude and joy because — madam/ 
 he turned suddenly on poor Mrs. Esther, 
 *you will please to listen patiently. This 
 case concerns the unhappy fate of two poor 
 ladies. Their history, gentlemen ' — oh ! why 
 could be not get on faster ? — ^ is partly known 
 to you. They were daughters of a most 
 worthy and respected city merchant wlio^ in
 
 320 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 his time, served many civic offices with 
 dignity and usefulness, including the highest. 
 He was a benefactor to his parish, beautified 
 his church, and died leaving behind him two 
 young daughters, the youngest of whom came 
 of age in the year 1720. To each of them 
 he left a large fortune, no less than twenty 
 thousand pounds. Alas ! gentlemen, this 
 money, placed in the hands of their guardian 
 and trustee, a friend as honourable as the 
 late Lord Mayor himself, the ladies' father, 
 namely Alderman Medlicott, Avas in the year 
 1720 shamefully pillaged and stolen by the 
 alderman's clerk, one Christopher March, 
 insomuch that (the alderman having gone 
 mad by reason of his losses) the poor girls 
 had no longer any fortune or an}^ friends to 
 help, for in that bad time most all the 
 merchants were hit, and everyone had to 
 look after himself as best he could. Also 
 this plundering villain had so invested j)art 
 of their money, in their own name by 
 forgeries, as to make them liable for large 
 sums which they had not the means of 
 paying. They were therefore arrested and 
 confined in the prison hard by, where under
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 321 
 
 the rule of the rogue Bambridge they suffered 
 many things which it is painful to recall or 
 to think about. Presently, however, that 
 tormentor and plague of the human race — 
 captivorum jiagellum — scourge of innocent 
 captives and languishing debtors, having 
 been mercifully removed, and having hung 
 himself like Judas and so gone to his own 
 place, these ladies found the necessary security 
 which ensures for all of us this partial liberty, 
 the with opportunity, should we embrace it, of 
 improving the golden hours. In other words, 
 gentlemen, they came out of the prison, and 
 have ever since dwelt amongst us in this 
 place. 
 
 * Gentlemen, we have with us here many 
 improvident and foolish persons who have 
 mostly by their own misconduct reduced 
 themselves to our unhappy condition. It 
 needs not that in this place, which is not a 
 pulpit, I should speak of those who have 
 gambled away their property' — Sir Miles 
 shook his head — 'or drank it away' — Sir 
 Miles stared straight at the ceiling — * or have 
 missed their chances, or been forofotten bv 
 Fortune ' — Mr. Stallabras groaned. ' Of 
 
 VOL. I. 21
 
 322 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 these things I will not speak. But it is a 
 thing notorious to all of us that the Liberties 
 are not the chosen home of virtue. Here 
 temperance, sobriety, morality, gentle words, 
 courteous bearing, truth, honour, kindness of 
 thought, and charity — which seeketh not her 
 own — are rarely illustrated and discourteously 
 entreated. Wherefore, I say, that for two 
 ladies to have steadfastly resisted all the 
 temptations of this place, and to have ex- 
 hibited, so that all might copy, the exemplar 
 of a perfect Christian life during thirty years, 
 is a fact which calls for the gratitude as well 
 as the astonishment of the wondering Kules.' 
 
 ' He ought to have been a ' began 
 
 Solomon Stallabras, wiping a sympathetic 
 tear, but caught the doctor's frowning eye 
 and stopped ; * an — an Archbishop,' he added 
 presently, with a little hesitation. 
 
 ^ Sir/ said the doctor, 'you are right. I 
 ought to have been an archbishop. Many 
 an archbishop's Latin verses have been poor 
 indeed compared with mine. But to proceed. 
 Madam, I would fain not be tedious.' 
 
 * Oh, sir/ said Mrs. Esther, whose brain 
 seemed confused with this strange exordium.
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 323 
 
 ' After thirty years or thereabouts of most 
 undeserved captivity and forced retirement 
 from the poHte world — which they were born 
 to adorn — these ladies found themselves by 
 the will of providence forced to separate 
 One of them wdnged her glad flight to 
 heaven, the other was permitted to remain 
 awhile below. It was then that I began to 
 investigate the conditions of their imprison- 
 ment. Madam,' he turned suddenly to Mrs. 
 Esther, so that she started in her chair and 
 trembled violently, ' think of what you would 
 most wish : name no trifling matter ; it is not 
 a gift of a guinea or two, the bettering of 
 a meal, the purchase of a blanket, the helping 
 of a poor family ; no boon or benefit of a day 
 or two. Let your imagination rove, set her 
 free, think boldly, aim high, think of the best 
 and most desirable thing of all.' 
 
 She tried to speak, her lips parted ; she 
 half rose, catching at my hand : but her words 
 were refused utterance ; her cheek grew so 
 pale and white that I thought she would 
 have swooned and seized her in my arms, 
 being so much stronger and bigger. Then I 
 
 21—2
 
 324 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 ventured to speak, being moved myself to a 
 flood of tears. 
 
 ' Oh, madam ! dear madam 1 the doctor is 
 not jesting with you ; he hath in his hands 
 the thing that we desire most of all. He 
 brings you, I am sure, great news — the 
 greatest. Oh, sir' — I spoke now for her 
 who was struck dumb with ho|)e, fear, and 
 astonishment — ' what can this poor lady want 
 but her release from this dreadful place % 
 What can she pray for, what can she ask, 
 morning and night, after all these years of 
 companionship with profligates, spendthrifts, 
 rogues, and villains, the noisy market-people, 
 the poor suffering women and children of this 
 den of infamy, but her deliverance ? Sir, if 
 you have brought her that, tell her so at 
 once, to ease her mind.' 
 
 * Well said, Kitty,' cried Sir Miles. ^ Doctor > 
 speak out.' 
 
 ' No poet — not even Alexander Pope — 
 could have spoken more eloquently,' cried 
 Solomon Stallabras. 
 
 As for Mrs. Esther, she drew herself gently 
 from me, and stood with her handkerchief in
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 325 
 
 her hand, and tears in her eyes, her poor thin 
 fio^ure trembhno^. 
 
 ' I have brought with nae/ said the doctor, 
 taking her hand and kissing it, ' the release 
 of the most innocent prisoner in the world/ 
 
 She steadied herself for a few moments. 
 Then she spoke clearly and calmly. 
 
 ^ That,' she said, 'has ever been the utmost 
 of my desire. I have desired it so long and 
 so vehemently (with my sister Deborah, to 
 whom it has been granted) that it has become 
 part of my very being. I have desired it, I 
 tliink, even more than my sister. Thirty 
 years have I been a prisoner in the Fleet, 
 though for twenty-six in the enjoyment of 
 these (so-called) Liberties. Gentlemen, you 
 know full w^ell what manner of life has been 
 ours ; you know the sights, the sounds, the 
 wickednesses of this place.' Here Sir Miles 
 hung his head. ' I am, as the doctor most 
 kindly hath told you, a gentlewoman born ; 
 my father, besides being a great and honour- 
 able merchant of this most noble city of 
 London, once Lord Mayor, an Alderman 
 of Portsoken Ward, and Worshipful Master 
 of the Company of Armour Scourers, was
 
 326 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE ILEET 
 
 also a true Christian man, and taught us 
 early the doctrines and virtues of the true 
 faith. We were educated as heiresses ; we 
 were delicately brought up in the love of 
 duty and religion ; too delicately for women 
 fated to herd with the worst, and bear the 
 worst. It is, therefore, no merit of ours if 
 we have behaved, according to our lighto, as 
 Christian gentlewomen. Yet, sirs, kind 
 friends, it has been great unhappiness to us ; 
 bear with me a little, for when I think of my 
 sister's sufferings, and my own, I fain must 
 weep. It has been, believe me, great, great 
 unhappiness.' 
 
 I think we all wept with her. Yet it was 
 astonishing to see with what quiet dignity 
 she spoke, resuming, at a moment's notice, 
 the air not only of a gentlewoman, which she 
 had never lost, but of one who is no longer 
 troubled by being in a false position, and can 
 command, as well as receive, respect. I saw 
 before me a great city lady, as she had been 
 trained and brought up to be. Small though 
 she was, her dignity made her tall — as her 
 unmerited sufferings and patience made her 
 great.
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 327 
 
 Sir Miles laid his hand on the poet's 
 shoulder. 
 
 ^ Great heaven !' he cried. ' Canst thou 
 weep any more over the misfortunes of 
 Clarissa, with this poor lady's sorrows in thy 
 recollection ?' 
 
 The doctor wiped his eyes. But for those 
 backslidings which we have already lamented, 
 what an admirable character, how full of 
 generosity, how full of sympathy, how kind 
 of heart, was my uncle ! 
 
 ^ Pray, madam/ he said, ^ be seated again. 
 Will you take another glass of wine ?' 
 
 ^ No, doctor,' she replied. ^ This is now 
 no case for the help of wine. Pray finish 
 the story of your benevolent care.' 
 
 ^ Why, madam, as for benevolence,' he said, 
 ' I have but done what Sir Miles Lackington 
 or Solomon Stallabras ' — the poet spread his 
 arms and tapped his breast — ^ would have 
 done, had they possessed the power of doing ; 
 Avhat, indeed, this crying slip of a girl would 
 have done had she known how. Benevo- 
 lence ! Are we, then. Old Bailey prisoners, 
 chained by the leg until the time comes for 
 us to go forth to Tyburn Tree ? Are we
 
 328 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 common rogues and vagabonds, that have no 
 bowels ? Can such a Ufe as yours be contem- 
 plated with unmoved eyes ? Is Sir Miles a 
 Lovelace for hardness of heart ? or Solo- 
 mon Stallabras a salamander \ . Am I a 
 Nero ? Nay, madam, speak no more of 
 benevolence. Know, then, that of all the 
 people whom the conduct of the villain Chris- 
 topher March with regard to your affairs 
 injured, but two are left alive. The heirs of 
 the rest are scattered and dispersed. These 
 two have prospered, and are generous as well 
 as old ; their hearts melted at the tale of 
 suffering ; the}^ have agreed together to give 
 back to you, not only the security which 
 keeps you here, but also a formal release of 
 your debt to them ; you can go whenever 
 3^ou please.' 
 
 ' Why, then,* shouted Sir Miles, grasping 
 the bottle, ^ we can drink her ' 
 
 ^ Stay,' said the doctor. ^ There is one 
 thing more. This generous gift restores to 
 you, not only liberty, but also your father s 
 country estate in Hertfordshire, worth six 
 hundred pounds a year. And here, madam, 
 are the papers which vouch for all. You
 
 HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 329 
 
 have now your own estate, and are once 
 more a gentlewoman of fortune and posi- 
 tion.' 
 
 She took the papers, and held them 
 grasped tightly in her lap. 
 
 ' And now, gentlemen,' said the doctor, 
 gently taking the bottle from the baronet's 
 hands, ' we will drink — you, too, Kitty, my 
 dear, must join — a happy new year to Mrs 
 Esther Pimpernel.' 
 
 They drank it with no more Avords ; and 
 Sir Miles fell on his knees and kissed her 
 hand, but without speaking aught. 
 
 Mrs. Esther sat still and quiet, trying to 
 recover herself; but the first eloquence would 
 not return, and she could not speak for 
 crying and sobbing. In broken words she 
 said, while she caught the doctor's great 
 hand and held it, that he had been, in very 
 sooth, her guardian angel; that it was he 
 who had rescued her sister and herself from 
 the monster Bambridge and the horrors of 
 the prison ; that, but for him, they would 
 long ago have starved ; that, but for him, 
 she should have languished for the rest of 
 her days in the Rules. Then she prayed
 
 330 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 that God would reward the protector and 
 defender of the poor. 
 
 The doctor drew away his hand, and, with- 
 out a word, walked out of the room with 
 hanging head, followed by Sir Miles and 
 Mr. Stallabras. 
 
 * We shall go, my sweet Kitty ; together 
 we shall leave this dreadful place,' sho mur- 
 nmred when we were alone. ' What is mine 
 is yours, my child. Let us humbly to our 
 knees.' 
 
 ENI) OF VOL. I. 
 
 I RIMED BY BILLING AND fcO^S 
 
 ^ ^