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 In 3 Vols. 
 
 THE ARRANDEL MOTTO. 
 
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 In 3 Vols. 
 
 WHICH IS THE HEROINE? 
 
 By NINA COLE. 
 
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 and the author exhibits marks at once of culture and of thought."— 
 Morning Post. 
 
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 In 1 Vol. Price 10s. 6d. 
 
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 A ROMANCE OF THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR. 
 By BENJAMIN WILSON.
 
 — Eaihvays, postages— in a word, all the numerous facilities of the 
 age— have almost annihilated distance, and, as a natural result, 
 caused an individual trade betTveen country customers and London 
 establishments. Those who do not visit town, so as to select and 
 purchase directly, send for patterns from which they can give their 
 orders. But as all apparent advantages on the one hand have more 
 or less their corresponding drawbacks, so this system is not without 
 its bane. Pushing tradesmen make a market by offering goods at 
 lower rates than they can possibly be sold at to realise a fair profit. 
 The bait traps the unreflective, and the result is that the receipts en 
 masse are not equal to the tempting samples. There is no new inven- 
 tion in this ; it has been practised in wholesale merchandise and by 
 candidates for contracts, as the proverb hath it, since there were hills 
 and valleys. But we grieve to add it is sometimes resorted to by 
 those whom one would credit for more integrity. Ladies, therefore, 
 need exercise caution, and place confidence only in houses of old- 
 established fame, for rapidly -made businesses are not generally reli- 
 able. And to what does this assertion amount more than to the fact 
 that nothing great can be effected not only without labour but with- 
 out time, and that Eome was not built, as the old saying says, in a 
 day ? Messrs. Jay, of Eegent-street, whose name is well known 
 amongst the few on the list of bond fide establishments in the metro- 
 polis, have adopted a plan for assisting country ladies in choosing 
 for themselves London fashions and fabrics And their customers may 
 rest assured that they will tLus be enabled to obtain goods of every 
 quality, both low and high priced, at the most reasonable terms — 
 that is, the terms of small profits for quick returns — and that they 
 may firmly rely upon the thoroughly corresponding character of 
 samples and supplies. — From tlie Court Journal.
 
 CLUMBER CHASE, 
 
 OE 
 
 LOVE'S RIDDLE SOLVED BY A ROYAL SPHINX. 
 
 A TALE OF THE RESTOEATION. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GORDON SCOTT. 
 
 ' Acerrima proximorum Odia.' 
 
 Tacitus. 
 
 I love thee to the level of every day's 
 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candle light, 
 
 I love thee freely, as men strive for right ; 
 
 I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. 
 
 I love thee with a passion put to use 
 
 In my old grief, and with my childhood's faith 
 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 
 "With my lost Saints, I love thee with the breath. 
 
 Smiles, tears of all my Kfe ! — and if God choose 
 
 I shall but love thee * better after death.' " 
 
 E. B. Bkowning. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 1871. 
 
 [ALL EIGHTS RESERVED.]
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/clumberchaseorlo01scot
 
 ^.1 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 --x To GEOFFREY ST. JOHN HAETSFOOT, Esq., 
 
 \ BALDIVALLOCH. 
 
 My Dear Haktsfoot, 
 
 As in the Tale of "Clumbee Chase," I have 
 
 endeavoured to reproduce your worthy ancestor. Master Oliver, 
 
 - I venture, in grateful remembrance of the happy hours passed 
 
 in our Excursion to Xorway last Autumn, to dedicate this Book 
 
 X to you, knowing that I shall thereby insure at least ost. in- 
 
 dulgent critic for the short<3omings of. 
 
 Yours ever faithfully, 
 
 GEOEGE GOEDON SCOTT. 
 
 :> 
 
 Avignon, June 22nd, 1871. 
 
 VI
 
 OLUMBEE CHASE. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE " MULBERRY-TREE TAVI 
 FREQUENTERS. 
 
 OOD DAY, Mr. Pepys?" 
 
 " Your most obedient, Mr. Evelyn ; 
 glad to see you in London ; thought 
 you were at Sayes Court, getting rid 
 of your troublesome tenant — Old Benbow — for 
 he did tell me, the other day, when he came to 
 the Office, that he, and you, were at issue about 
 the damage done to the plantation." 
 
 " Oh ! don't speak of it Heaven defend me 
 from ever having such another destroying angel 
 for a tenant as the Admiral !" ^ 
 
 " Ah !" rejoined Mr. Pepys, with a deprecatory 
 shake of his ambrosial perriwig, which had that 
 very morning been re-curled, preparatory to a 
 dinner he was going to give on the morrow. 
 ^^Ah! I did tell him he should confine himself 
 
 * Heaven was apparently deaf to this pious prayer of John 
 Evelyn's, as two reigns after, in William the Third's time. 
 Heaven, or perhaps its Antipodes, sent him the Czar, Peter the 
 Great, who more sweepingly completed the destruction and 
 deterioration which Admiral Benbow had so vigorously begun. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 to shivering liis own timbers, and leave yours 
 alone." 
 
 "• Are you steering homeward, or going in 
 here ?" said John Evelyn, wishing to evade the 
 disagreeable subject of the destruction of his 
 beautifully laid out grounds and infant planta- 
 tions, as he pointed up to the sign of a mulberry 
 tree, swinging from a house at Charing Cross, 
 under which was the legend of " GEOFFEEY 
 TROUTBECK, TAYERNER." 
 
 '^ Well, I have been so fermented by the morn- 
 ing's news, that I rcas going in here to get a dish 
 of the new China drink, ^ which they do say is 
 marvellously orderly for the nerves, and a great 
 disperser of vapours. May I offer you a dish 
 too?^' 
 
 " Thank you — ' Ce rCest />a5 de refus,^ as they 
 say over the water. But I hope the bad news 
 you allude to is nothing that touches you per- 
 sonally ?" 
 
 '' Well, it do, and it do not. The Duke of 
 York has gone and married Anne Hyde, my Lord 
 Clarendon's blowsy daughter — or, at least, has 
 just owned his marriage — for they have been 
 married, I believe, some time." 
 
 " Whew !" whistled Mr. Evelyn. '' And the 
 King r 
 
 ^^ Ah ! there's the rub. It seems, from Sir 
 
 ♦ Tea.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 
 
 Allen Broderick, whom I met hot from White- 
 hall, and who did give me the whole account, 
 that the Chancellor rather over-acted his part of 
 devotion, and loyalty, and all that. When it is 
 well known that, while apparently to the surprise 
 of everyone, either not seeing, or conniving at 
 the Duke's siege to Mistress Anne, he so played 
 his cards as to take right good care that she 
 should not be anything else but Duchess of York. 
 Yet, to the King, with the aid of a Pomander 
 and a pocket handkerchief, he brought tears to 
 his eyes, and raved, and vowed, that he could 
 sooner have forgiven his daughter for being mis- 
 tress to the Duke, than for her presumption, and 
 leze majeste, in making herself sister-in-law to 
 his most sacred majesty !" 
 
 '^ Ha I ha ! ha !" laughed Evelyn, with a little 
 low, quiet laugh, and an incredulous shake of the 
 head. ^^ And what did the king say to t/iat /" 
 
 *' You know he has always wit in his anger, 
 and truly his wit would seem to be a safety valve 
 on all occasions to his displeasure, for at this too 
 great self immolation of my Lord Clarendon, a 
 vivid flash as of lightning seemed to burst 
 through the dark clouds of his face, as with a 
 dry, husky laugh he did exclaim — ' Oddsfish ! 
 my lord : now, by St. Anthony ! are you trench- 
 ing upon our privilege, by proclaiming that you 
 would rather have had your daughter a quea?i than 
 
 B 2
 
 4 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 in a fair way to become a queen ;' and lie spelt 
 out the two words. But, good Lord !" continued 
 Mr. Pepys, " to see how men will debase them- 
 selves ! It almost makes one hearken to the tale 
 of my Lord Clarendon's maternal granddam 
 having been a tub woman." 
 
 " Nay, for that matter," rejoined Evelyn, 
 *^ given an abject and obsequious courtier, and you 
 will always findfar filthier dregs and dross than the 
 refuse sloppings of fifty generations of tub women 
 could bestow. But pray how is Sir Allen Brode- 
 rick getting on ? and how fares the suit of his 
 son Gilbert with pretty mistress Dorothy Neville?" 
 added he, as he followed Mr. Pepys into -' The 
 Mulberry Tree." 
 
 " Why, as for Sir Allen, his lick of the Bribe 
 Jar, though it was to the tune of £30,000, I 
 don't think has serviced him much, as he has 
 spent double in breaking of the Seventh Com- 
 mandment; and, good lack ! the sins of the 
 fathers truly are visited upon the children — for 
 his evil reputation has fallen like a blight upon 
 poor Master Gilbert, and done him much dis- 
 favour with pretty Mistress Dorothy, or rather 
 with her mother — for I verily believe the girl 
 loves him, though she is obliged to make as if 
 she didn't. Madam Neville is so inveterate 
 against him ; and then a nick-name is sure to 
 stick to a man tighter than his skin, at all events,
 
 1670. Clumber Ctiase. 
 
 closer than his merits ; and his sobriquet of Cap- 
 tain Pomander"^ has certainly not advanced his 
 suit." 
 
 " But how came he by such a nick-name, for 
 he seems a manly, honest, sensible, fine young 
 fellow, indeed marvellously so, among our White- 
 hall fungi r 
 
 " Why, when the poor boy did return from fo- 
 reign parts two years ago, he had a curious wrought 
 Pomander that he did have recourse to upon all 
 occasions, even in church, as if even the odour of 
 sanctity were too much for his delicate nerves ; 
 and, moreover, he carried in each pocket a minia- 
 ture flask, or, as the French call it, flaqon of 
 Venice glass, cased in a filligree of fine Brindisi 
 goldsmith's work. One of these contained syrup 
 of j illy flo vvers, with which he did always admonish 
 his sack, and the other, essence of barberries, 
 with a few drops of which he did chastise his 
 Rhenish." 
 
 " Ah ! I see ; the old story ; the best and 
 quickest seed to sow for making enemies and 
 propagating falsehoods and calumnies is to differ 
 in small things from the herd. When you rob, 
 murder, or in any other way deface the decalogue, 
 
 * A Pomander waa what would now be called a Casolette, or 
 vinaigrette. It was a gold, or silver, small filigreed apple, with 
 a branch on the top, which turned on a pivot, and when so turned, 
 the apple opened in quarters, each quarter having a perforated 
 top, and containing aromatic vinegar and other perfumes, and 
 was used as a vinaigrette, or smelling bottle.
 
 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 as Admiral Benbow has done my plantations, it is 
 by no means absolutely necessary, by way of in- 
 suring impunity, to wait for darkness, or affect 
 secresy ; but woe ! to the rash mortal who, pre- 
 ferring pepper where custom and conventionality 
 use sugar, who has so little deference for public 
 opinion as to pepper openly." 
 
 Here Master Troutbeck, in honour of Squire 
 Evelyn and the Secretary of the Admiralty, 
 brought in the ^' China drink" himself, and 
 curious was its equipage — a large oval, plain 
 silver teapot, of the flat shaving-pot style, divided 
 longitudinally across the centre, for the purpose 
 of making green tea on one side and black on 
 the other ; while on the outside of this machine 
 — for such it really was — were two long, plain 
 spouts, like those of a coffee-pot ; but in order 
 that the black and green teas might not pour out 
 simultaneously, inside was a sort of silver cap 
 over the opening of each spout, which was pushed 
 aside with a spoon when the tea was to be poured 
 through it ; and to the end of each spout on the 
 exterior was suspended by little chains, like an 
 old Roman lamp, little perforated silver bowls, 
 or strainers, to catch any stray leaves or twigs, 
 and prevent their falling into the diminutive 
 Japan cups — for none other were then known, 
 save those which had been imported from China 
 and Japan, with their compatriot the tea. Flank-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 
 
 ing each cup was a glass of spring water, and in 
 case that even these should not be siiflS.cient to 
 neutralise the disagreeable sensation of the new 
 " drink " — for it and cream and sugar had not 
 yet met — were also little silver vine leaves, con- 
 taining slips of lemon peel, citron, qnince, and 
 angelica, and red Gruava cheese, as bonnes bouche, 
 such as children are given in the nursery reward 
 and punishment system, after some nauseous 
 dose. Having, with a profound obeisance, duly 
 consulted the taste of his guests as to colour, 
 and poured out a cup of green for Mr. Evelyn, 
 and of black for Mr. Pepys, mine host of the 
 " Mulberry Tree" left his aristocratic customers in 
 the coffee-room, to attend to his more profitable 
 ones at the bar. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Pepys, making a fearful 
 grimace, which graphically exemplified the 
 triumph of enterprise over taste, as he replaced 
 his cup in the saucer, and seized a whole handful 
 of sweetmeats, '' well, I cannot say that I do 
 think that is a drink that anyone will ever become 
 addicted to." 
 
 " I rather think that we don't know how to 
 prepare it," said Mr. Evelyn, "and that even if 
 we did, what we get of the shrub in this country 
 is not worth preparing, for the Chinese get their 
 tea fresh as they want it out of their gardens, as
 
 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 we pluck our salads, as short a time before dis- 
 cussing them as possible." 
 
 " Ah ! that may make a di£Perence, certainly,'* 
 said Mr. Pepys, taking up his empty cup and 
 minutely examining the blue and white beauties 
 of Cathay pourtrayed upon it. " If the China 
 women be really like these," he added, " there 
 can be no need of any one singing * Beauty 
 Retire ' to them, for it has retired from them with 
 a vengeance." 
 
 ^^ Why, yes," smiled his companion, ^^ they 
 certainly are, as you said, Mr. Pepys, of Her 
 Majesty's Portuguese maids of honour, when 
 first they came over — ^ sufficiently unagreeable." 
 
 " Young maidens and trae lovers all, buy for one 
 halfpenny the fearful tragedy of Arden, of Faver- 
 sham, who was cruelly murdered in King Harry 
 the Eighth his time, by his wife, dainty Mistress 
 Alice, and her paramour, Swartz Will ; and how 
 it was found out by the blood on the rushes in 
 the cedar parlour ; and all of a Sunday night ! — 
 on which it's wrong to commit murders — and 
 Swartz Will walks to this day, as I hope you 
 may never do," bawled out a ballad seller, in a 
 shrill, yet hoarse, cracked voice. 
 
 " Ciel! quel hourva7n ! quel vacarme infernal !''' 
 cried a Frenchman, rushing out of the street into 
 the coffee-room, with both hands to his ears.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 
 
 while lie was followed more leisurely by another 
 arrival, who had remained a few seconds in the 
 street to buy off the ballad seller with a carolus, 
 and politely request she would lose no time in 
 decamping, and joining Swartz Will in his per- 
 ambulations. The first comer was the chef of the 
 royal kitchens, a somewhat recent importation of 
 the Comte de Grammont, who had given him the 
 sobriquet of Horace, Marmite de Casserole, the 
 man's real name being Horace Merivale Casa- 
 nove. De Grammont had long in vain tried 
 to seduce him from his allegiance at Versailles, 
 till one unlucky day (for him, Louis Quatorze) the 
 Grand Monarque had stopped short at his seventh 
 plate oi puree d Id bisque, and pronounced it de- 
 cidedly bad. " Ha I ha I" chuckled the treacherous 
 Count to himself. " Mainte7iant jeferais bisquer 
 Casanove.'" And that very evening he, with un- 
 due emphases and ?"?? discretion, repeated the 
 public affront the king had put upon him, asking 
 if after that he would stay where he was not ap- 
 preciated? while in England he would be put 
 upon a par with the other courtiers, seeing that 
 he had a right to wear a sword, which, being in- 
 terpreted, meant that Monsieur Horace Merivale 
 Casanove's great-great-grandfather, having been 
 one of the Lyons silk weavers, attracted to Paris 
 by the splendid offers and immunities of Francis 
 the First, such as living rent free, being exempt 
 
 B 5
 
 10 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 from imprisonment for debt, and above all, being 
 allowed to wear swords, like nobles or military 
 men — Monsieur Horace Merivale Casanove bad 
 resolved to consider tbe latter privilege bereditary, 
 much regretting be bad no power of enforcing 
 tbe two former ones also. But wben De Gram- 
 mont perorated bis arguments by clasping bis 
 bands in supplication, and telling tbe illustrious 
 Casanove tbat in transferring bis talents toTTbite- 
 ball be would be performing a noble act of cbarity, 
 for tbe poor king was so scandalously ill fed ; in 
 sbort, be concluded, " Youbave seen bis portrait, 
 you bave noted bis dark, saturnine, deeply lined 
 face ; well, mon cher, cest le resultat des cauche 
 mars ventres ! tout ^la vient cCune indigestion en 
 permanence^ cause par ses execrables diners /" Tbe 
 pity wbicb bad bitberto only simmered for bis 
 Britannic Majesty now boiled over, and Horace 
 Merivale Casanove consented, witb tbe air of a 
 Curtius, to immolate bimself on tbe barbaric altars 
 of Englisb culinary fires ; also, moyennant, tbree 
 tbousand livres additional salary. Tbe person 
 wbo followed bim into tbe coffee-room of tbe 
 " Mulberry Tree" was Monsieur de St. Evermond. 
 Upon seeing bim, Casanove removed bis bands 
 from bis ears, and baving adjusted bis sword 
 knot, wbicb somebow or otber always wanted 
 sometbing doing to it, be made a profound bow 
 to Mr. Evelyn, and tben, witb a more familiar,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 11 
 
 not to say patronising air, turned to Mr. Pepys, 
 and said, laying his fore finger at the side of his 
 nose — 
 
 " Ah ! mon brave Monsieur Pepys ! I have no 
 forgot you; I shall send to you iO'Taorroi^^quatre 
 pdlts, d /aire venir Veau a la houche de Jules 
 CcBsar quand meme il est morV 
 
 " Thank you ; but no garlic, remember, my 
 good sir." 
 
 ''Ah! de rail fie done ! c'est de la fausse science, 
 toutes ces sauces, qui vousjlattent le palais, pour le 
 moment, et vous disent des injures pour vingt quatre 
 heures apres — non^ non^ I have change all dat, 
 as Monsieur St. Evermond here say, when we 
 saw de serviteurs kneel to place de dish on de 
 royal table, he tought it was to ask the king's 
 pardon for give him so bad dinnere. Ah ! j^ciuvre 
 roi, qui mangait tous les jours, et ne dine jamais. 
 Now, he say to me, Casanove, you have made 
 king of me, for now I live, I reign veritablement^ 
 car maintenant je mange en prince /" 
 
 " So that," said Mr. Evelyn, with a smile, 
 " you will go down to posterity as the second 
 king maker in English history." 
 
 "Will you try some of this China drink?" 
 said Mr. Pepys. 
 
 " Bah ! Cest un bruvage d^apothicaire ; I 
 keep to de cafe — Mme. de Sevigne a tort ; ni le 
 cafe^ ni Racine passera.^''
 
 12 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 Again, the Duke of York's marriage with the 
 Chancellor's daughter came on the tapis. 
 Monsieur de St. Evermond had not heard of it ; 
 said it was certainly not known the night before 
 at Whitehall, where there had been a ball, which 
 ended late. 
 
 '^ Yery likely," said Pepys ; " but I did have it 
 on the best authority an hour ago, from Sir Allen 
 Broderick, who had but then left my Lord Claren- 
 don, upon his return, after breaking the news to 
 the King." And then he did repeat to St. Ever- 
 mond the scene that had taken place in the royal 
 closet on the occasion, as he had before narrated 
 it to Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " Ce j^auvre duc,''^ said St. Evermond. '' He 
 must be unlike every one else, and more especially 
 unlike his brother. So he is all for the respect- 
 able, and the orthodox." 
 
 " Was there any new beauty at the court ball 
 last night?" asked Mr. Pepys. 
 
 '^ That was there," rejoined St. Evermond, 
 ^^ the freshest, fairest, prettiest creature I have 
 seen for a long time — positively a fourth grace ! 
 and danced — I mean danced — and neither floun- 
 dered, nor romped, as — pardon me for saying it 
 — your English ladies generally do." 
 
 " And yet," said Mr. Evelyn, " one would 
 think the present Court ladies were sufficiently 
 light to dance well ; but who was this new beauty ?"
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 13 
 
 " A young Mistress Neville ; to see her dance 
 Trenchmore I is enougli to make Terpsichore 
 jealous. And she is the only English woman I 
 ever saw who knew how to dance the Branles,^ 
 which you English mil call the Brawls, being so 
 fond of brawls, I suppose; but all lights have 
 their shadows, and this brilliant meteor had the 
 densest of shadows, in a mother who never 
 quitted her, and who looked for all the world 
 like an effigy of Elizabeth Cromwell, the ci- 
 devant ^ Lady Protectress,' cut out of black velvet 
 and buckram.'* 
 
 '' I'll wager six pieces of eight," cried Mr. 
 Pepys, " it was pretty Mistress Dorothy herself; 
 but here comes Silas Titus, who will tell us all 
 about it. Good Lord ! to think what supple 
 
 * English French has always been, not to say is — not " French 
 of Paris,' but " French of Stratford-atte-Bone." The Beanles 
 was first introduced into England by Anne Boleyn, from the 
 Court of Francis the First. And as its name comes from the 
 verb ehranJer, to shake, the proverbial expression of "no great 
 shakes," as applied to anything inferior, or below par, had its 
 source from this dance, and was originally restricted to the de- 
 signation of a bad dancer. Therefore, Gray is doubly wrong, in 
 his lines, in '' A Long Story," when he says — 
 
 " Full oft within the spacious walls, 
 When he had fifty winters o'er him, 
 My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls, 
 The Se.il and Maces danced before him." 
 For the " grave Lord Keeper," Elizabeth's dancing Chancellor, 
 was Sir Christopher Hatton, who never lived at Stoke Poges 
 Manor — the scene of " A Long Story." On the death of the 
 Earl of Huntingdon, Sir Edward Coke purchased that Manor, 
 and lived there with "the grave Lord Keeper's" termagant 
 widow, whom he married in 1591 ; but as her far fiercer firea 
 quite quenched the poor Coke, it is not to be wondered at that 
 she should have incised the name of Hatton on the traditions of 
 Stoke.
 
 14 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 grooms of the bedchamber those once sturdy- 
 rebels make, while an honest man who has never 
 swerved cannot find room even to cool his heels 
 in an ante-room." 
 
 '' Because he is an honest man, perhaps, Mr. 
 Pepys," said Evelyn. 
 
 Before he had finished speaking, Silas Titus 
 pushed open the half glass door of the coffee 
 room, his shoulders shaking with an affected 
 half suppressed laugh, and his love locks thrown 
 back upon his fine point cVAlengon collar, beneath 
 his broad-leafed feather-bound beaver hat, while 
 against his glitteringly white teeth he gently 
 knocked, as a sort of accompaniment to his 
 laugh, his gold inlaid ebony cane, for having so 
 recently been a bare headed and barefaced Round- 
 head, he was now, of course, upon the strength 
 of his appointment as one of the grooms of the 
 bedchamber, all that was most extreme, and 
 most finikin, in the shape of cavalier coxcombry. 
 
 " Coqiie fredouille /" muttered Casanove, with 
 ineffable contempt ; for the Republican antece- 
 dents of the new courtier were too tough for his 
 own orthodox royalty to render palatable, by any 
 amount of climbing, bred in courts — at least in 
 court kitchens — as Horace Marmite de Casserole 
 had been. 
 
 " Oh ! oh I what I would give to see the meet- 
 ing," said Titus, aloud, pressing both hands to
 
 1670. Clumber Cliase, 15 
 
 his chest, and bending forward, to convey the 
 idea that he was nearly broken in two from con- 
 vulsions of laughter. 
 
 " How now, Master Titus ? We cry halves in 
 the jest, whatever it may be," said Mr. Pepys. 
 
 "" Odds life ! sirs, you won't be content with 
 half when you hear it. Monsieur de St. Ever- 
 ■mondi—je vous haise les mains, Mr. Evelyn, were 
 I a tree, you should have all my houghs. He ! 
 he ! he ! Mr. Pepys, I give you joy. I thought 
 Madam Pepys' beauty could not be mended, but 
 patches liace mended it ; she is ! — " And here he 
 gathered the fingers of his right hand to a point, 
 pressed them to his lips, and then opening them 
 wide, and waving his hand from him as if blowing 
 
 kiss, suddenly stopped, while Mr. Pepys 
 frowned ; but the next minute, passed a very 
 large pocket handkerchief over his face, and 
 swept away the frown, as a notable housemaid 
 would do a cobweb where it was too much en 
 evidence. While Silas Titus, turning on his heel, 
 and perceiving Casanove, extended two fingers to 
 him, saying, ^' Forgive my not seeing you before. 
 You could not suppose I would intentionally over- 
 look a man who rules the roast ? Ho ! Drawer, 
 bring me a flask of Rhenish, that I may drink 
 Monsieur Casanove's health, and wish his Majesty 
 well over it," added he, seating himself, placing 
 his hat upon the table before him, and tossing
 
 16 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 his gloves into it, as he again exploded in a fit of 
 laughter. 
 
 " We would fain share your mirth if we only 
 knew the cause, and lighten your labours in such 
 a great enterprise of laughter," said Mr. Pepys. 
 
 " One moment, my dear sir, till I have recruited 
 my strength with a draught of wine, for if sorrow 
 is dry, mirth, on a warm autumnal morning, is a 
 great deal drier." Having drained a large goblet 
 of wine as soon as it was brought, '' !N'ow," con- 
 tinued he, " you shall hear my adventures," 
 which, though they began in the ordinary way 
 with a petticoat, are only likely to end in a panic ! 
 " As I was coming down Spring Garden, about 
 a quarter-of-an-hour ago, I saw a closely muffled 
 female figure, that is, with her wimple closely 
 concealing her face, yet evidently watching me. 
 So, thought I, a bonne fortune, and none of my 
 seeking either. I stopped. She stopped; but did 
 not attempt to uncover her face. I went on a 
 few steps, but looked back. She was following. 
 Of course I stopped till she came uj) ; and then, 
 taking ofi" my hat and making her a bow, that 
 would have done equally well for a goddess or a 
 duchess, such a happy mixture was it of deference 
 and devotion, I said, ' Madam, you aj^pear to be 
 a stranger in this great city, can I have the 
 happiness of being any service to you ?' ^ Eh ? 
 my fine sir,' said a shrill voice, in a broad Suffolk
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 17 
 
 accent, throwing back her hood, and discovering 
 such a wealth of ugliness ! as I have seldom seen 
 monopolised by one face — for her dark red hair 
 was square-cut, over a very low forehead, still 
 Nature was merciful in giving her but one eye, 
 which squinted horribly ; the very small allowance 
 of nose she possessed seemed shrinking back- 
 wards, as if it felt that it could have no chance 
 against her enormously fat cheeks and high cheek- 
 bones, or that it feared it might fall into one of 
 the many pits the smallpox had dug into those 
 cheeks, while all that her nose had been defrauded 
 of in size, had been with additional injustice be- 
 stowed upon her mouth, and then it was that the 
 voice, so worthy of the portal from whence it 
 issued, said, ' Eh ? my fine sir, will you please 
 tu point me the way tu the Mall, where the King 
 du walk tu o' mornings V ' And what may you 
 want with the King, madam?' for as I had began 
 madaming her before I had seen her, I could not 
 be so barbarous as to insult her by saying my 
 pretty maid now that I had done so. ' Eh ? I'm 
 no madam, but just a poor body, sir.' ' Well, 
 but you don't answer my question ; what may 
 you want with the King ' ' Eh, sir ? my business 
 is wi' the King, and none else ; so I can tell it to 
 none else, if I knew it, which I don't, as it's all 
 written down for the King.' So a petition, 
 thought I, and sent through so lovely a pleader
 
 18 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 it cannot fail of success. ^ Show me the paper,' 
 said I, ' and as I often see the King, I will give 
 it to him.' ' Nay, nay, sir ! it is all sealed up, 
 and I was to give it with my own hand into his, 
 and to do that I was to find him on the Mall.' 
 ' Well, just let me see the outside of the packet ?' 
 ' No, sir, that's ag'in' my orders, and I durst not 
 du it; because the quality knows about each 
 other by what they calls their great coats of arms, 
 and if you seen them you'd know who it come 
 from, and no one was tu du that but the King.' I 
 thought to myself, with all your apparent sim- 
 plicity, you are as cunning as a six-year-old 
 fox !" 
 
 " Nay, for that matter," put in Mr. Evelyn, 
 " thorough and incorruptible honesty, which this 
 poor girl seems to have had, will outwit the most 
 complex cunning any day, just because all cun- 
 ning is shifty, while integrity is immovable." 
 
 " Well," resumed Titus, " I thought I'd try 
 her with a golden key, and offered her two pieces 
 of eight, which she refused. * I don't want your 
 money, sir ; I only want you tu tell me the way 
 tu the Mall, and how I shall know the king." 
 
 " Grood lack," interposed Mr. Pepys, " I wonder 
 you did not offer to go vnih. her to see the end of 
 the play." 
 
 *^ No, thank you ; I have no fancy for losing 
 my place so soon. The king would have fancied
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 19 
 
 that I had had the impertinence to preach him an 
 incarnate sermon before his whole court, taking 
 for my text — 
 
 ' * * Vice is a monster of such hideous mien 
 That to be hated needs but to be seen.' 
 
 " For as my Inamorata of the black wimple is 
 evidently an agent acting for someone else, she 
 may by poetical license be called ' a Vice/ so, 
 keeping out of the scrape, I gave a hackney 
 coachman a double fare, seeing he would have no 
 fair in her, to convey her safely to the entrance 
 of the Mall ; but still, she had a last word with 
 me. ^ Eh ! sir,' stretching half out of the window, 
 as the vehicle was about to rumble off, ' will you 
 give me a sign like, by which I shall know the 
 king when 1 du ^qq him T ' Well, he is a tall, 
 very dark gentleman ; perhaps with a mallet in 
 his hand, for he is fond of playing at pell mell ; 
 but you'll know him chiefly by all the dogs and 
 dogesses by which he is always surrounded.' 
 And at last, amid the grins of the bystanders, and 
 the winks of the coachman, I despatched this 
 nymph of the mysterious mission, never having 
 been so cruelly taken in before.'' 
 
 " Poor soul ! I hope she may succeed in her 
 suit," said Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 *' I wonder what it is?" queried Mr. Pepys, 
 biting his nails, as was his wont when perplexed ; 
 "but I dare say I shall find out from the Duke of
 
 20 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 York or Lady Jem. And now tell us, Master 
 Titus, as you were at the Court ball last night, 
 was pretty Mistress Dorothy Neville there ?" 
 
 *^ That was she ; and the event of the evening, 
 first, from her real, downright, indisputable 
 beauty, and next because she was new, quite 
 new, as it was the first time Madame Neville had 
 allowed her — and that not without unremitting 
 surveillance — to breathe what I have no doubt 
 she would call ' that polluted atmosphere.' " 
 " And was young Grilbert Broderick there ?" 
 " Gilbert Broderick ! no. Don't you know 
 that his amiable father. Sir Allen, who is as 
 jealous of him as the deuce — I don't mean with 
 Dorothy Neville, though I dare say he is that 
 too — but with his rich old maiden sister, with 
 whom he is at daggers drawn, and fears she may 
 make Gilbert her heir ; and as she is fond of 
 pretty Dorothy, being an old friend of her 
 mother's. Sir Allen is so full of spite and all 
 other meannesses himself, that he feared his 
 sister might be tempted, in order to vex him, to 
 come up from the country for this ball, to smooth 
 matters for Gilbert with Madame Neville ; so to 
 mar the plot (if plot there were), he packed poor 
 Gilbert off to Ireland a fortnight ago, as a sort 
 of honorary aide-de-camp to Sir Edward Massy, 
 so that he could not possibly be back till full a 
 week after this ball was over."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 21 
 
 ^^ What ! is Sir Edward Massy gone to Ireland 
 in any official capacity ?" asked Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " Why, have you not heard that he has vacated 
 his seat for Gloucestershire, and has got some 
 appointment worth a thousand a year in Ireland, 
 and I have no doubt will terminate in a coronet, 
 like so many others." 
 
 " Well, in some sort he deserves it, for he has 
 done good service to the royal cause, and they 
 have been honourable services, too," said Mr. 
 Pepys. 
 
 " Then," said Evelyn, '' he will be one of the 
 exceptions that prove the rule ; for in all times, 
 but more especially in ours, peerages seem to be 
 almost exclusively kept as the rewards for public 
 or private profligacy, or political pliancy; for 
 which reason, I cannot conceive an honest man 
 having anything but an insurmountable horror of 
 what is called public life, seeing what a tortuous, 
 immund cesspool it is, and knowing that in all 
 things — 
 
 ' Our nature is subdued to what it works in, 
 Like the dyer's hand.' " 
 
 Mr. Pepys, whose prudent face twitched ner- 
 vously, thinking Mr. Evelyn's opinion as to 
 state patronage was a little too plainly expressed 
 in the now courtly hearing of the ex-Roundhead. 
 
 Mr. Silas Titus said, addressing himself to the 
 latter —
 
 22 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 ^* Dear ! dear I lam sorry for poor Master Gil- 
 bert and pretty Mistress Dorothy. I fear between 
 father on the one side, and mother on the other, 
 there is but little happiness in store for them." 
 
 "Happiness — bah!" cried St. Evermond ; 
 " there is no such thing as happiness, or if there 
 is, it is like Lady Castlemaine's dress, which 
 begins too late, and ends too soon."* 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur de St. Evermond, a toujour 8 le 
 mot pour rire^'^ laughed Casanove. 
 
 "But seriously, "asked Mr. Pepys of Titus, '^ see- 
 ing Sir Allen Broderick's interest not only with the 
 king, but his position about the Chancellor, don't 
 you think he'll do something for poor Master 
 Gilbert, beyond smuggling him out of the reach 
 of his aunt's and Mistress Dorothy's favour ?" 
 
 " Not he, the old flint steeped in pitch; proxi- 
 mus sum egomet mihi is decidedly his motto." 
 
 " Good Lord ! to think that men can be without 
 bowels, in this way, for their own kith and kin ; 
 but Master Gilbert has great parts, and I should 
 say double the nouse of his father, for I have seen 
 some of his composures, poetical and other, and 
 I've no doubt he'll be to the fore yet." 
 
 " Don't believe itj" said Mr. Evelyn, shaking 
 his head." 
 
 * For it woLS St. Evermond who said this apropos of Lady Castle- 
 maine's decoUetee dress, two centuries before Talleyrand, who for 
 another century to come will, no doubt, continue to be accredited 
 with all this sort of mots; -yu, qu on ne prete quaux riches.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 23 
 
 ^' Truly," said Pliny the younger; " no man 
 possesses a genius so commanding as to be able 
 to rise in the world, unless these means are 
 afforded him, — opportunity, and a friend to pro- 
 mote his advancement." 
 
 '^ And as for poetry, even when of the highest 
 order, what chance has that sort of genius against 
 the world, the flesh, and the devil, when they are 
 let slip to hunt it ? for have we not lived to see 
 John Milton, when he prudently concealed him- 
 self till the persecutions against him had abated, 
 advertised for, in ' The Whitehall Gazette,' as 
 ' an obscure fellow, one Milton, late of Barbicon, 
 who is wanted of the law officers, by reason of his 
 treasonable and blasphemous writings against his 
 late most sacred Majesty, and on account of the 
 "paltry fellow'' s own insignificance, we give the 
 following description of his person,^ ^x., fc. 
 And as for poetry, I do not think our present 
 manners likely to produce any worthy the name ; 
 for as John Milton truly says, ^ to write a fine 
 poem, we must live a fine poem.' " 
 
 ^^ Ah!— Milton— Milton," said Silas Titus, 
 twirling his moustache, " that's the fellow who 
 wrote the * Iconoclastes,' in answer to the ' Icon 
 Basilike.' Never read it. I mean the ' Icono- 
 clastes ;' — all I remember is what Hobbs said of 
 his answer to Salmasius' * Defensio Regie,' which 
 was that he (Hobbs) did not know whose style
 
 24 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 was best, or whose arguments were worst. He ! 
 he! her 
 
 " I should have thought," said Mr. Evelyn, 
 with more sternness and more sarcasm than he 
 was won't to indulge in, "that you might have 
 known a great deal more about John Milton when 
 he was Latin Secretary to the Protector." 
 
 " Fergo ad alios, Venio ad alios ^ deidne ad alios, 
 Una res^^'' muttered St. Evermond, in a low voice 
 only heard by Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 "Yes — that is about it," smiled the latter, and 
 then added, taking out his watch, " Gentlemen, 
 I must wish you all good-day, as I must be going, 
 it being our audit day at the Hospital ;* I shall 
 be only just in time to take water at Whitehall 
 stairs." 
 
 And soon after his departure, the rest of the 
 party then and there assembled, separated, and 
 went their different ways. 
 
 * Se was treasurer of Greenwich Hospital.
 
 1670. Clmnher Chase. 25 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A CHAPTER OF ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
 ADAM NEVILLE, the mother of 
 pretty Mistress Dorothy, who had 
 made so brilliant a cUhut at the Court 
 ball — according to the unanimous 
 verdict of the three C.C.C.'s — critics, courtiers, 
 and cavaliers — had been a widow — a rich one — for 
 ten years, and therefore beset with many suitors. 
 But she was an eminently practical and sensible 
 woman, the rule of whose life in all things was 
 to let well alone ; moreover, she was a truly pious 
 woman, and would as soon have thought of com- 
 mitting suicide as of tempting Providence (with 
 her eyes open and her wits sharpened upon the 
 whetstone of experience) by contracting a second 
 marriage. ^^ISTo, no," she was never tired of 
 observing to all who urged her on the subject, 
 whether the gossips of her own sex or the gal- 
 lants of the other — '^ No, no ; there is a Spanish 
 proverb which averreth that ' Fate sends almonds 
 to those who have no teeth,' meaning that For- 
 tune never comes with both hands full, for which 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 reason she seldom sends weeds, except to those 
 who are too old to enjoy their freedom. I was 
 young and ignorant, and full of hope, and every 
 other whii3ped froth vanity — as young people 
 ever were, and ever will be — when I gave my 
 heart to Rupert Neville, for a plaything to batter 
 about as he pleased, and he soon taught me that 
 SELF is the only idol that men are never tired 
 of worshipping, or of sacrificing to ; and yet he 
 was by no means one of the worst, as his rcords 
 were always velvet, had he been only minded to 
 make his actions follow suit. He was not one 
 of your pompous household tyrants either, puflfed 
 up with grandity, till he conceited himself a sort 
 of cross between King Solomon and the angels, 
 that a wife should always approach kneeling if 
 not actually on her bodily knees, at least with 
 spiritual genuflections), such as fell to the lot of 
 my poor friend, Mary Powell, in Mr. Milton, or 
 else I should have run away home before the end 
 of the first month, as she did, poor soul, gloomed 
 and grumped to death." 
 
 Elizabeth Cromwell — the some time " Lady 
 Protectress'' — had also in early life, during the 
 Sheepscote days of the first Mistress Milton, 
 been a great friend of Madam Neville's, which 
 friendship or intercourse (which in so many cases 
 is the world's synonyme for friendship), had con- 
 tinued up to the revolution, when not only all
 
 1670. Clumher Chase. 27 
 
 the Nevilles, being staunch Royalists, but like- 
 wise Madam Neville's father, Sir Charles 
 Wheeler, who, after the restoration, was not 
 made Master of the Rolls, as he was promised, 
 but had to content himself with being made a 
 Privy Councillor and Governor of Nevis. It was, 
 of course, utterly impossible that such an inter- 
 course could continue between the wife of the 
 Protector and the daughter and wife of two such 
 devoted Royalists. But, indeed, without even 
 the interposition of such political earthquakes as 
 revolutions, time and marriage are sad de- 
 stroyers of early friendships ; and so Margaret 
 Neville had found, for one after another, some 
 blight, or some change, had fallen upon most of 
 her youthful liaisons, one of the most cherished 
 and enduring of which had been with Mistress 
 Broderick, iSir Allen's sister, and Gilbert's aunt; 
 but that selfish kill-joy. Sir Allen, having set his 
 face against his son's marriage with Dorothy 
 Neville, wholly and solely on account of the 
 money he would have to disburse for the estab- 
 lishment of the young people, poor Dorothy was 
 no longer allowed to pass weeks with her mother's 
 old friend, Mistress Broderick, at her beautiful 
 seat. Clumber Chase ; nor could Madam Neville's 
 proper pride, or rather self-respect, in no longer 
 allowing her to do so, be in any way reprehended, 
 as she naturally considered her beautiful daugh- 
 
 c 2
 
 28 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 ter a fitting match for far greater partis than Su- 
 Allen Broderick's son ; as, exclusive of her beauty 
 and a dot of ten thousand pounds (at that time 
 considered a good fortune), she would at her 
 mother's death, come into that charming place. 
 The Chestnuts, two miles beyond Richmond, 
 on the Surrey side, worth a clear thousand pounds 
 per annum, as well as her house on Birdcage 
 Walk, overlooking the Mall. The Chestnuts 
 was a gem in its way, for it was Madam Neville's 
 hobby, and kept up with a microscopic attention 
 to detail, that set ofi" its every advantage. The 
 house was an old Tudor house, with a flight of 
 steps, and a marbled balustraded terrace, branch- 
 ing off on each side of the lower step of this 
 flight. In the large entrance hall, with its 
 armour, and its mullion windows, and deep win- 
 dow seats, was, in the centre, the immensely 
 wide polished oak Henry the Seventh staircase, 
 with banisters two feet broad, and thick tor- 
 sades, at least three quarters of a yard in diame- 
 ter, while round this hall ran a covered gallery, 
 with lattice windows looking down into the hall. 
 But the grounds — it was, with their velvet lawns, 
 their plaisaunces, and their square fishponds, and 
 above all, their long covered galleries of closely 
 clipped hawthorn, with spaces at symmetrical in- 
 tervals cut in the sides, like unglazed windows, 
 such as are still to be seen in the Pope's gardens
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 29 
 
 and in many other Italian gardens, whicli con- 
 stituted the chief attraction of The Chestnuts 
 (so called from an avenue of Spanish chestnuts, 
 a mile and a half long, which led from the lodge 
 to the house), for despite the close clipping of 
 these charmilles^ or verdant galleries, the haw- 
 thorne was still so redundant, and in its own 
 sweet month of May so fragrant, that the night- 
 ingales never failed to hold their concerts there ; 
 add to which, these fragrant galleries, alike im- 
 pervious to the hottest sun and the heaviest 
 rains, led down to the river side, where was 
 another marble balustraded terrace, the white 
 steps in the centre of which descended into the 
 water, like those of a Venetian Palazzo, and were 
 ever laved by — 
 
 " The geutle ripple of tlie silver tide." 
 
 Dorothy doated upon The Chestnuts — not 
 altogether for the dainty greenery of its plai- 
 saunces, and its affluence of those gorgeously 
 rich old-fashioned flowers, now alas ! chiefly 
 banished to cottage gardens, and remote manor 
 houses, which, like the descendants of their 
 original owners, have gone down in the world, 
 and degenerated into farm houses. Flowers, not 
 only rich to regality in their colouring and pro- 
 digality of bloom, but in their spicey, generous, 
 oriental perfume, such as those colossal double
 
 '^0 Clumb^'r Chase. 1()70. 
 
 gilly flowers, bowed down as it were by their 
 rich regalia of ruby flowers, and their delicious 
 spiced Burgundy odour, w^hich one is sure f/iust 
 make the bees reel when they quaff it ! Then 
 the gentle, suave, almost caressing breath, like a 
 fairy's kiss, of the delicate green and violet velvet 
 auriculas, cosily hiding in their lowly sphere 
 beneath the diffusive prodigalities of large crim- 
 son damask, and faintly tinted blush-roses, with 
 great purple larkspurs coquetting between fkem, 
 and massive double clove pinks, and variegated 
 carnations almost as large as garden poppies, or 
 ribbon pompoms, to say nothing of those floral 
 common people, the humble vassal wall-flowers, 
 who do their fra<:i^rant faithful service in rough, 
 ungenial seasons, when their patrician superiors 
 would be afraid to put forth the tiniest tij) of 
 their buds. Yet, much as she loved them, and 
 carefully as she tended them one and all, it was 
 not exclusively these that made Dorothy Neville 
 so fond of The Chestnuts, but perhaps because it 
 was there that Gilbert Broderick had first told her 
 he loved her ; and also, perhaps, because of the 
 broad river, that silent highway by which all his 
 Majesty's liege subjects were fi-ee to travel — for 
 though there were a few locks, there were no 
 keys to exclude them from that. Then, too, on 
 summer nights, so wonderful were the nightin- 
 gales in their vocalisation, that Dorothy, as she
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 31 
 
 sat at her casement and listened to them, had on 
 more than one occasion almost fancied she heard 
 words to their songs ! But, as for London, oh ! 
 how she hated it — for, in the first place, it was 
 there that Sir Allen Broderick had first discovered, 
 and then issued his veto against his son's suit — 
 and there is an inherent justice (?) in human 
 nature which always makes us cordially detest 
 any place wherein we have sufi'ered, or where any 
 exceptionally untoward event may have befallen 
 us, the said inherent justice always prompting us 
 to condemn the innocent place as an accessory 
 after the fact. Then, as for its amusements, 
 even had she cared about them, it was but very 
 sparingly she was allowed to enter into them, for 
 staunch royalist as Madam Neville was, she was 
 truly, and not without reason, unafi'ectedly horri- 
 fied at the degenerate and disorderly court the 
 Restoration had given them ; and never, with her 
 consent, would either she, and still less her 
 daughter, have crossed the threshold of White- 
 hall. But what are women's feelings, or women's 
 principles, still less their prejudices, when 
 weighed in the scale against the worldly interests 
 of the men of the f imily, or at least what the 
 men of a family imagine to be their interests ? 
 And that fierce old cavalier. Sir Charles, her 
 father, chafed and disappointed as he was at the 
 pie-crust promises he had received in return for
 
 32 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 the battles he had fought, and the blood he had 
 shed in the royal cause, was yet an assiduous 
 courtier ; and though the King could in silence, 
 and with unrufSed equanimity, have supported 
 I>Iadara I^eville's absence from court, having 
 heard of the beauty of Dorothy, he thought fit to 
 honour Sir Charles with a gracious complaint of 
 his daughter and grand-daughter's non-appear- 
 ance at Whitehall, and a request that it might 
 not continue, so that the old cavalier had laid his 
 commands upon his daughter that she should 
 take Dorothy to the before-mentioned ball ; and 
 as Gilbert Broderick had been sent by Lis father 
 on a wild-goose chase to Ireland with Sir Edward 
 Massy, Madam Neville thought she could not 
 take a less objectionable opportunity for making 
 the, to her, great sacrifice of letting her daughter 
 appear at court. 
 
 As for poor Dorothy, knowing that the salt sea 
 waves were rolling between her and Gilbert, her 
 reluctance to the proceeding was almost as great 
 as her mother's ; but once amid the blaze of 
 countless wax-lights, magnificent jewels, and the 
 cynosure of admiring eyes, she would have belied 
 her age and sex had she not felt a glow of 
 pleasurable triumph, to say nothing of a certain 
 pardonable vanity of attire : for is not a pretty 
 girl's^r^'^^ ball dress beauty's coronation robes ? 
 Hers was of the purest white, and most gossamer
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 33 
 
 gauze, over the richest and softest white satin, 
 such as Lely delighted to paint, and as he alone 
 could paint; while her berthe was entirely of 
 pearls, seamed down the front and back, and on 
 each shoulder, with two rows of fine emeralds — 
 heirlooms in the Neville family. Her luxuriant, 
 burnished chestnut hair, worn d la Ninon .^ as the 
 charming fashion then was, making a perfect 
 Greek cap of richly platted hair at the back of 
 her head, while the light tendril-like ringlets on 
 her forehead, as she gracefully glided through 
 Trenchmore, or bounded in a La V^olta, showed, 
 as it caught each changing light, the ripple of 
 gold that ran through the dark sheen of her hair. 
 If she danced her best, and looked her brightest, 
 it was not from the novelty and exhilaration of 
 the scene, and, still less, from the ojDcnly ex- 
 pressed as well as whispered admiration that 
 floated round her like an atmosphere. No, of 
 course not ; it was only that Gilbert might hear 
 of her, and that his father might see her. Poor 
 child ! while she looked the very incarnation of 
 all that was joyous and bright, how often she 
 sighed and wished she could have been either in 
 the cool Charynilles, at The Chestnuts, or with 
 Gilbert's kind aunt Broderick at Clumber Chase. 
 "Ah!" she thought, ^' should she ever be t?iere 
 again?" And yet, why not? for the kind old 
 lady would not accept this compulsory separation, 
 
 c 5
 
 34 Ckmber Chase. 1670. 
 
 caused by her brother's selfish tyranny, as an es- 
 trangement^ for she wps continually sending her 
 favourite Dorothy little souvenirs^ and gifts, books, 
 confections, distilled waters, conserves of violets, 
 pup tons of quince, marchpane, and all the other 
 thous^md housewifery notabilities that constituted 
 " Woman's Mission " in those days. 
 
 This court ball had flashed like a bright ex- 
 ceptional meteor, athwart the gloomy monotony 
 of her now disinherited existence, leaving nothing 
 but weariness and exhaustion after it. Madam 
 Neville was cat-like in her stay-at-home propensi- 
 ties, — like all her contemporaries, she was " cum- 
 bered about much serving ;" for all ladies at that 
 time, even the greatest, were their own house- 
 keepers ; — not but what she had a very able 
 deputy, or coadjutor, in her tire woman Rachel 
 Ruffle — indeed so able, both as to temper and 
 talents, that she rather ruled Madam Neville with 
 a rod of iron. But so equitably and beautifully 
 graduated is the eternal fitness of things in this 
 not so bad as it might be, nor so good as it ought 
 to be world, that in her turn Rachel Ruffle had to 
 succumb to a reign of terror of her own, in the 
 person of Bridget Butson, the cook. But though 
 this divide et Emperi regime took up a great deal 
 of Madam Neville's time, it by no means so 
 thoroughly engrossed it as to prevent her going 
 more frequently from home, had she had the in-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 35 
 
 clination to do so ; yet she felt that at Dorothy's 
 age it was not fair to debar her from " The diver- 
 sions of the Torcn.^'' So she cast about how to 
 combine pleasure with prudence, and was not 
 long in hitting upon a happy expedient, for it so 
 chanced that a worthy gentleman, one Master 
 Oliver Hartsfoot, between whom and herself, in 
 early youth, there had been some love passages, 
 in which he experienced so sad a defeat, it had 
 left him a confirmed bachelor and book worm. 
 Now, as was before mentioned. Madam Neville 
 was a thoroughly sensible, practical woman ; so 
 she soon came to the conclusion of what was 
 the use of a sacrificed love, if it could not be con- 
 verted into a self-sacrificing friendship ? And as 
 Master Hartsfoot most conveniently lived at a 
 stone's throw from her own house on the Bird 
 Cage Walk, for he occupied one of those small 
 dingy tenements at what is now called ^* Storey's 
 Gate," but at that time went by the name of 
 FtiN^xT Joe's Coexee, in honour of Joe Collins, 
 of Oxford, the staunch royalist, who had been the 
 concoctor and perpetrator of all the ghostocracy 
 and demonology at Woodstock, which so 
 frightened the belligerent Roundeads, though Joe 
 took good care not to have his authorship of this 
 supernatural opera even suspected till after the 
 restoration, when he triumphantly owned to 
 having been the deus ex machind of all this
 
 36 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 devilry, — and as lie lived in one of the houses, 
 the place was named after him, though he is no 
 longer ^'famous in storey.''^ 
 
 Well, in another of these houses also lived 
 Master Oliver Hartsfoot, bibliomaniac, antiquary, 
 and philosopher, with his cat Slut, his serving 
 man, iNToah Pump, and his housekeeper, Alice 
 Merrypin. Now, just a year after the commence- 
 ment of this history. Madam Neville resolved to 
 utilise all Master Hartsfoot's wisdom, learning, 
 and other virtues, so long stagnant, and lying 
 dormant among books, parchments, Antidelu- 
 vian pottery, brainless skulls, and marrowless 
 bones ; and no sooner decided upon than done. 
 So calling for her wimple, fan, gloves, and a 
 Seville orange, stuck full of cloves against back 
 street smells, the widow sallied forth to Funny 
 Joe's Corner. It was noon when Madam Neville 
 arrived at her quondam rejected suitor's door, 
 and at the same moment appeared Noah Pump 
 coming up from Westminster, from " The Royal 
 Martyr Tavern," where he had been to have the 
 sack jar replenished for his master's dinner ; it 
 was exactly like those then in use for the recep- 
 tion of the same cordial beverage, being of white 
 glazed earthenware, with blue borders round it, 
 and the date of the year of its fabrication, in 
 blue figures, on its globular centre, but like 
 everything else in Oliver Hartsfoot's house, it
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 37 
 
 was an antique, and bore the date of 1458, as will 
 be seen by the following sketch : — 
 
 ^oah doffed his purple woollen mushroom- 
 shaped cap deferentially to Madam Neville, but 
 not without a slight look and gesture of irre- 
 pressible surprise at seeing her not only stopping 
 at his master's door, but with her hand actually 
 upon the knocker. 
 
 " Good day, Noah Pump," said she, affably ; 
 " I do not ask if your master is within, as I fear 
 I have come just at his dinner hour; but if so, 
 piay tell him I am in no hurry, and can wait till 
 he has done." 
 
 Now, Noah Pump, who was a foster-brother, 
 as well as a servitor of Master Hartsfoot, and 
 had lived with him nearly all his life, was so far 
 initiated into things of the past, as to know 
 pretty well how matters had once stood between 
 his master and Madam Neville, and consecLuently
 
 38 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 upon seeing her about voluntarily to franchise 
 the wide gulf of years and invade his master's 
 privacy, he fell into almost as great a tremor and 
 fit of awkwardness as Master Hartsfoot could 
 himself at this unexpected apparition of the still 
 blooming, but erst cruel widow, and it was a 
 second or two before he could stammer out, 
 " Yes — no — that is — I — I'll let him know ; but 
 won't your honor's ladyship walk in ?" and as he 
 spoke, or rather stuttered, he inserted the key in 
 the hall door, and pushed it wide open to let the 
 lady pass. 
 
 " Thanks, good Master Pump ; but knowing 
 the store your master sets by his books, and 
 papers, and curiosities, I'll wait in the entry till 
 he has finished dinner." 
 
 " No — never ! Surely, Madam Seville, that 
 mustn't be ; there ain't no papers, nor books, 
 nor other rubbish in the Cedar parlour, for thafs 
 kept o' purpose for the Quality, and is furnished 
 Christian-like, with all the beautiful Chevey 
 Chase chairs, as master's mother worked afore he 
 wor horned." 
 
 But as the widow resisted even the Christian- 
 like attractions of the Cedar parlour, and reiter- 
 ated her intention of remaining in the hall — 
 hearing Koah Pump's voice in words of persua- 
 sion, to which his vocal organization was by no 
 means attuned in unison, and another, and not
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 39 
 
 yet forgotten voice, refusing — as it ever had been 
 — to be persuaded, the dining-room door, which 
 was opposite the street door, suddenly opened, 
 and Master Hartsfoot, napkin in hand, appeared 
 at it. He was still a comely, and very benevo- 
 lent looking man of forty-five ; he wore his own 
 fair hair parted down the centre, and flowing in 
 natural curls upon his shoulders ; all his features 
 were well and clearly cut, and were (that great 
 secret of all beauty next to expression) remark- 
 ably harmonious, his eyes being of the very 
 darkest hazel, and decidedly handsome, and 
 though usually pale, he retained one silly habit 
 of his youth — that of blushing like a girl on any 
 excitement or emotion. His black dress was so 
 plain, especially surmounted as it was by a large 
 plain linen Charles the First falling collar, with 
 corcls and tassels, that it might have appeared 
 Puritanical, but for the fine texture of its cloth, 
 and the profusion of rich Venetian black silk 
 tuffs and buttons with which it was ornamented, 
 and his knee and shoe string tags being both of 
 highly polished and cut jet, gave, as he moved, 
 an occasional radiant flash to all this darkness. 
 No sooner had he perceived rvho his visitor was 
 (to borrow Noah Pump's words in afterwards 
 describing the scene to Alice Merrypin), " than 
 he fell back in a sort of sound-like on a chair by
 
 40 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 the side of the dining-room door, as one struck 
 all of a heap." 
 
 Not so Madam Neville ; she advanced with all 
 possible alacrity, holding out both her hands, as 
 she said, with a little laugh, half hysterical, half 
 affected, " Good Master Hartsfoot, we are such 
 near neighbours, that we ought not to continue 
 strangers ; and— and, in fact, I am come a beg- 
 ging, for I have a favour— a great favour to ask 
 you !" 
 
 Master Hartsfoot tried to reply that whatever 
 it might be the favour was granted ; but he tried 
 in vain, for his tongue seemed to have followed 
 the example of his limbs, and he might have 
 fainted outright had not Noah, with great pre- 
 sence of mind, put down the sack, and poured his 
 master out a glass of water, which after, he had 
 drank, he was still beholden to the Pump, who 
 led him to the table and pressed him down into 
 his former chair, after which humane gymnastic, 
 the faithful servitor discreetly left the room, clos- 
 ing the door after him, and muttering on his way 
 down to Alice Merrypin's dominions — 
 
 " All the world over, two's company and three's 
 none." 
 
 So inveterately archaeological were Oliver 
 Hartsfoot's tastes that he disdained even the use 
 of modern plates, dishes, or glasses, so that his
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 41 
 
 table presented a really rare, and what in these 
 days would be an invaluable, collection of Henri 
 Deux ware, curious old Venetian and German 
 glass, and quaint-shaped flagons, and cups of 
 massive, though somewhat barbaric twelfth-cen- 
 tury parcel gilt plate, with enormous gilt chargers 
 and gossip dishes of the same, on his sideboard. 
 Modern forks, as they had then been recently in- 
 troduced from Italy, found no place at his table, 
 but he had recourse to the assistance of those 
 small Edward the Third forks, no larger, and very 
 like, our nineteenth century pickle forks, only 
 they had but two wide apart prongs, and looked 
 strangely incongruous, flanked by the massive, 
 yet squat Evangelist spoons. Having graciously 
 praised a dish of very fine scallops, dressed with 
 cream, tarragon, and other fine herbs, ^ plat for 
 which Alice Merrypin was famous, and of which 
 even Monsieur Casanove might have died of envy. 
 Madam Neville turned on poor Master Hartsfoot 
 the full blaze of one of her most radiant smiles, 
 as she drew a chair and seated herself three- 
 corner-wise, partly opposite, and partly beside 
 him, saying — 
 
 "Now, Master Hartsfoot, if you do not go on 
 with your dinner, just as if I was not here, I shall 
 return home without proff'ering my request, and 
 saying all I came to say." 
 
 Great as the bribe was on the one hand, and
 
 42 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 terrible as the threat was on the other, strange 
 to say, either failed to reassure Master Hartsfoot, 
 who was becoming visibly more tremulous and 
 confused ; indeed, so little did he know what he 
 was about, that when his downcast eyes did per- 
 ceive the napkin in his hand, he was seized with 
 the overwhelming delusion that his shirt was ob- 
 truding itself en evidence^ and with one nervous 
 clutch hastily thrust this serviette incomprise into 
 his bosom, but '-'- still they came," at least, he 
 thought so, as with another desperate effort he 
 clutched the table cloth, and would have banished 
 it to the same limbo by one vigorous cram, and 
 so demolished all his splendid Henri Deux ware 
 and Venice glass, had not the widow, quick as 
 lightning, not only placed both hands upon the 
 table, but lent against it, as she exclaimed — 
 
 " Take care. Master Hartsfoot ; you'll pull 
 down all the dinner things !" 
 
 Whereupon, as suddenly as he had a minute 
 before grasped it, he released his hold of the 
 table cloth, but flushed into such a vivid crimson, 
 that Madam Neville, cool as a cucumber, and 
 really pitying the poor man, resumed her seat, 
 and gently fanning herself, said, in a languidly 
 drawling voice, as if merely continuing some 
 ordinary and common-place conversation that had 
 received no interruption — 
 
 " La ! how pretty the orange tips of those seal-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 43 
 
 lops look. My Seville orange looks quite dingy 
 beside them. The whole dish looks so tempting 
 that I must ask your cook for the receipt." 
 
 The spell was broken, as she intended it should 
 be, and Oliver Hartsfoot, recalled to the duties of 
 hospitality, asked if she would not taste the scal- 
 lops ? 
 
 " Oh ! with pleasure." 
 
 And as she studiously kept her eyes on her 
 plate while discussing them, Master Hartsfoot, in 
 due course, recovered his cruelly scared self- 
 possession, more especially as his nervous move- 
 ments were accompanied by a faint chink not un- 
 like what fairy cattle bells might be supposed, 
 caused by the jet tags of the bunches of ribbon 
 at his knees, and the jet tassels terminating his 
 shoe rosettes, as ever and anon he rose to get her 
 bread, or pour her out wine, or perform some 
 other hospitable office, till vi et ai^mis, for she 
 laid one of her hands upon each of his wrists, she 
 pressed him down into his chair, and again 
 declared she would go if he did not continue his 
 dinner; and as he at length obeyed her, she 
 opened her mission, by first dropping her voice to 
 the very lowest cadence of confidential communi- 
 cation, as if the room had been filled with obtru- 
 sive listeners, and informing him of the tyrannical 
 and parsimonious conduct of Sir Allen Broderick, 
 and consequently how the suit of Master Gilbert
 
 44 Clamber Chase. 1670. 
 
 to Dorothy had been broken off. ^^And what 
 grieves me more," added she, " all intercourse for 
 the present, at least, suspended between me and 
 my good old friend of Clumber Chase, lest her 
 detestable brother should suppose that we were as 
 mean as himself, and that my Dorothy and his 
 son met there." 
 
 "Poor young people," retrospectively and sym- 
 pathetically sighed Master Hartsfoot, and then 
 added, '' I know nothing whatever of the young 
 gentleman, pro or con^ but I meet Sir Allen con- 
 stantly at Garway's, the Greek tea house, in Ex- 
 change Alley, and in Paul's Chain, and a more 
 pompous, over-bearing man, I never did meet ; 
 which is, indeed, his general character, for all say 
 that he only lives for himself, and thinks the 
 world wide enough for none other, even his 
 nearest of kin, but has a veneer of worldly wisdom, 
 or rather base h}^ocrisy, which ever makes him 
 act upon the advice of Hamlet, Prince of Den- 
 mark, as Will Shakespeare puts it, and causes 
 him to ' assume a virtue, if he has it not.' But 
 how can I aid you, my good lady, in such a 
 matter ?" 
 
 " It is not exactly in that matter," rejoined the 
 widow, coming to the point, "but — but — I need 
 not tell you that our present court is anything 
 but what we had hoped or expected." 
 
 " Truly," muttered Master Hartsfoot, simul-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 45^ 
 
 taneously throwing up his hands and eyes, as if 
 they had been moved by a spring. 
 
 '' Indeed," continued Madam Xeville, " though 
 it is a thing I would not breathe out of this room, 
 or own to anyone but you, the Protector's, with 
 all its coarseness and all its roughness, includiag 
 his filthy practical jokes, was worth a dozen of 
 it." 
 
 '^ Yea — verily ! a baker's dozen." 
 
 "But," she resumed, '^'though the Court, as it 
 is, is out of the question for my Dorothy, yet, 
 dear heart I it seems cruel, too, to debar a young 
 creature from the diversions of the town, which I 
 have neither time nor spirits to enter into ; and 
 there is no one, even of my own sex, now that 
 things are as they are between us and our good 
 friend Mistress Broderick, that I could with a 
 clear conscience, and quiet heart, intrust my dear 
 Thea to — btit you — dear good Master Hartsfoot." 
 And here the lady paused for a moment, closed 
 her eyes, and vigorously inhaled the cloves in her 
 extemporised pomander, the Seville orange, as 
 much to give poor Master Hartsfoot breathing 
 time as herself before she added — opening her 
 eyes suddenly to their fullest extent, and aiming 
 them full at Master Oliver, with a laro-e leofible 
 placard that said plainly ''- There's no compulsion, 
 only you must^^ with a protocol, in her most 
 dulcet accents, and a gentle clasping of her
 
 46 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 hands — "Now, dear Master Ilartsfoot, if you 
 would take her occasionally to the playhouse, the 
 puppet show, Vauxhall, the Mulberry Garden, or 
 Mary la Bonne, or by water, when there are 
 French horns, theorbos, and viols, on the river, I 
 should be so vastly indebted to you." 
 
 Had a thunder bolt suddenly burst through 
 the ceiling, and, after pulverising his Henri Deux 
 ware, Venice glass, and Richard the Second plate, 
 requested him to be its partner in the Beanles ; 
 or had an earthquake invited him to mount its 
 wave, and without waiting for whip or spurs, 
 take a canter to the other side of the equator, it 
 is doubtful whether poor Master Hartsfoot could 
 have felt more utterly astounded, dumbfounded, 
 and flabbergasted than he did by Madam Neville's 
 friendly and modest little request, for already 
 did he feel incipient nausea at the Playhouse, 
 odours of sawdust, lamp oil, and orange peel, 
 and, with an internal groan, wish that when 
 Lord Buckhurst removed Nell Gwynne from that 
 sphere of action, he had at the same time exter- 
 minated all the other orange girls. Already did 
 he in imagination feel blinded by the lamps and 
 flambeaux at Vauxhall, and labour under a perma- 
 nent attack of deafness from viols and theorbos, 
 while hopelessly gored between complex dilemmas 
 of French and other horns. But Madam Neville, 
 having once seized, never relinquished her prey,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 47 
 
 and gently placing her hand upon his, said, still 
 looking into his face, so as to cut off his retreat on 
 every side — 
 
 " But you will, won't you, good Master Harts- 
 foot ?^' With the weak and the overpowered, 
 though it is a letter longer, ' Yes ' is always an 
 easier monosyllable to pronounce than ' Xo,' and 
 accordingly the poor springed, vanquished, utterly 
 defenceless archaeologist, uttered a faint ' Yes,' 
 only adding much more energetically, this being 
 a last struggle as it were to get free of the 
 meshes, '' that he feared he should be but dull 
 company for the young lady." 
 
 " It's not for company," said the widow, re- 
 assuringly, " it's for safety, respectability, and 
 — and— for convenience. You need never oj^en 
 your lips, and I'll tell Dorothy never to speak to 
 you, so that I'm sure you will be most agreeable 
 and comfortable together." 
 
 And with such an assurance of extenuatinof 
 circumstances. Madam Neville rose to depart, in 
 order to leave the poor condemned, if not to 
 digest his dinner, which her advent and its result 
 rendered almost impossible, at least to digest 
 her proposition, and his promise, and its conse- 
 quences. He led her to the street door in silence 
 and sadness, he bowed over the hand she offered 
 him repeatedly and profoundly ; but word spoke 
 he none. He watched her till out of sight, and
 
 48 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 then, returning to the dining'-room, he sank down 
 into a chair, faintly groaning, "• The Lord be 
 good to me ;" and there sat, so long and so 
 silently, that Noah Pump at length came unsum- 
 moned to ask if his master had not rang. It is 
 but justice, however, to Oliver Hartsfoot to state, 
 that from that out he religiously fulfilled his 
 extorted promise — even to sending Madam 
 Neville every morning a list of the Diversions of 
 the Town, to know which Mistress Dorothy would 
 select for the day's or evening's programme ; and 
 he grew so fond of his charge, that his fetters 
 daily became less galling, though it is at the 
 same time quite certain that, before he was six 
 months older, poor Master Hartsfoot had antici- 
 pated the late Sir Cornewall Lewis some two 
 hundred years, and was most decidedly of opinion 
 " that life would be very tolerable if it were not 
 for its pleasures /"
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTAINING AN INCIDENT NOT MENTIONED IN 
 MR. PEPTS' DIAPwY. 
 
 T was about two years after Oliver 
 Hartsfoot had been broken to har- 
 I ness as Cavaliero Cervante to pretty 
 Dorothy Neville, that, taking bis 
 matutinal walk tbrougb Westminster Hall, to 
 pick up any crumbs of news that migbt have 
 fallen from the Quidnuncs who haunted it, that 
 he encountered Mr. Pepys, not looking so dehon- 
 naire, and thoroughly contented as usual ; but, 
 indeed, quite the contrary, as if the times, like 
 his wig, were all awry. Master Hartsfoot, never- 
 theless, resolved to join him, as not being only 
 the very epitome of news from court, camp, and 
 city, but also a perfect catalogue raisonne of all 
 the diversions of the town. 
 
 " Your servant, Mr. Pepys," said Oliver, with 
 a low bow. 
 
 '^Good day. Master Hartsfoot? I saw you 
 t'other evening at the Duke's house, with pretty 
 Mistress Dorothy Neville. I did feel truly sorry 
 
 VOL. L D
 
 50 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 for her and young Gilbert Broderick, and, indeed, 
 at the time did tell my wife to write and condole 
 with her, which she did ; but, good Lord ! the 
 letter was so false spelt, and out of grammar, 
 that I was ashamed of it, and would not let her 
 send it. I do wish I could propound another, and 
 a better match, for pretty Mistress Dorothy, if it 
 was only to spite Sir Allen." 
 
 " I don't think she would accept the best 
 match in England, for she's not one of your 
 light o' loves," said Master Oliver. 
 
 " Tush !" quoth Mr. Pepys, '' I do conceit, 
 Master Hartsfoot, that these altering of resolves 
 and shifting of inclinations, have less to do with 
 light of love, than weight of fate. We all do 
 know how, in Queen Mary's time, that compe- 
 tent man and honourable person. Master Thomas 
 Wotton, the father of his more noteworthy son, 
 Sir Henry Wotton, did in this very Hall of 
 Westminster — and mayhap, in the very steps we 
 are now treading — meet the overthrow of all his 
 high resolves, that if he did ever enter into a 
 second marriage, there were three sorts of per- 
 sons he was steadfastly minded to avoid, 
 notably — 
 
 * Those that had children ; 
 Those that had law suits ; 
 And those that were his kindred.* 
 
 And yet, following a law-suit of his own, in this
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 61 
 
 very Westminster Hall, what did fate, but set 
 up a stumbling block in bis way, of fair red and 
 white snares, in the comely proportions of Dame 
 Elionora Morton, relict of Master Robert Morton, 
 an esquire, of Kent, herself engaged in several 
 suits of law ; and it was the observing of her 
 comportment in hearing one of her causes before 
 the judges, that Dan Cupid mixed up the oldest 
 and most potent of his filtres — compounded of 
 beauty, tears, and pity — and so, treacherously 
 overcame poor Master Thomas and all his wise 
 resolves, that soon he did find himself with an- 
 other suit on his hands — his own to the Widow 
 Morton. So that long before the judges had de- 
 cided his law suit, he had gained his love suit, 
 and had undertaken not only the supportation of 
 Dame Elionora, but of Dame Elionora's chil- 
 dren, and of Dame Elionora's law-suits. Go to ! 
 — Master Hartsfoot, it's one of the most frequent 
 and most scurvy tricks of fate, to give us the lie 
 whenever we do throw up fortifications of im- 
 pregnable resolves round our hearts. 
 
 '' But," continued Mr. Pepys, " that's the way 
 with young folks ; never ^ and for ever^ are the 
 blockades and raised drawbridges of all their 
 love affairs, but when they get to our time of 
 life, Master Hartsfoot," he added, with a sigh, 
 which, nevertheless, was more dyspeptic than 
 
 D 2 
 
 Viti^M 
 
 iRS\^^ 
 
 of 
 
 \\,\M^ 
 
 \y%^^
 
 52 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 despairing, '' they have grown wiser, and think, 
 mayhap, that the single life is the smoothest." 
 
 " This from you, Mr. Pepys ?" 
 
 ^'Well, yes, from me. You bachelors only 
 see our wives in patches, precious stones, and 
 satinsj with smiles and sugaries to match ; but, 
 good lack ! when the jewels are exchanged for 
 jealousies, the patches for peevishness, and the 
 smiles for swoundings,* the summer weather is 
 all gone, aud the squalls begin. I find my wife 
 troubled this morning because I did check her 
 last night in the coach for her long stories out 
 of Grand Cyrus, which she would tell, though 
 nothing to the purpose, and in no good manner ; 
 and last week, because I had stayed out till three 
 in the morning, she swounded on my return, 
 and when she came to, she treated Pierce, 
 Knipp, and Peg Penn, to all the wenches, hus- 
 sies, and worse, that ever were. Though I don't 
 say, but perhaps she do find with reason, that in 
 the company of Pierce, Knipp, and other women 
 that I love, I do not value her, or mind her as I 
 ought." 
 
 '' Oh! Mr. Pepys, it's hard lines for a wife to 
 have her husband making an institution, as it 
 were, of ' other women that he loves,' and 
 neglecting her in their company." 
 
 '' I don't say — I don't say to the contrary," 
 
 * Fainting fits.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 53 
 
 acquiesced Mr. Pepys, waving his hand, as if to 
 thrust back the disagreeable subject, and what 
 he also did 7iot sojj, though he thought it, as the 
 fc\ct was too recent to be forgotten, how the week 
 before he had packed Mrs. Pepys off into the 
 country with £2, and on the same day after her 
 departure, had presented Mrs. Knipp with £5. 
 ^* I don't say to the contrary ; and for that rea- 
 son, whenever she swounds, raves, or scolds, 
 never a word say I, and, poor wretch I I must 
 own, that cheese cakes and cream at Islington, 
 or some other diversion, soon bring her round. 
 But, good lack ! Tm not the only one ; a fine 
 hurricane there was before the whole Court last 
 night at Whitehall. Who'd ever have thought 
 that the Queen would have plucked up such a 
 spirit ; my Lord Brouncker, who brought me to 
 town this morning from Greenwich, in his coach 
 and four, told me all about it. It seems that, 
 while the Queen was at cards, the King, who 
 was walking up and down the room, sneezed two 
 or three times, whereupon, the Queen laying 
 down her cards, turned round full upon Lady 
 Castlemaine, who was overlooking the game at a 
 little distance from the card table, and said, in 
 a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone — 
 " ' Really, Lady Castlemaine, you must not keep 
 the King out so late at night. You see what 
 severe colds he gets.'
 
 54 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 *'At this the Castlemaine, withall the effrontery 
 in the world, and an attempt at an innocent look, 
 of which she has long lost the knack, said, throw- 
 ing up her eyes and her right hand, in which was 
 her fiin — 
 
 " ' I ! your majesty? If the King stays out late 
 it must be somewhere else, for he 7iever stays 
 late at iny house.' 
 
 " This was too much^eyen for the King, who, 
 going up to her, whispered in her ear what every- 
 one else says out loud, that she was the most 
 impudent woman in England, and bid her leave 
 the room and go back to her lodgings in Pall 
 Mall ; but Lord Brouncker says he's no doubt the 
 King will let her keep her house and all its costly 
 treasures, and that in three days they'll be just 
 as good friends as ever." 
 
 '' Good heaven/' said Master Hartsfoot, throw- 
 ing up his hands and eyes, ^' and yet people 
 wonder I never go to such a Court, but follow 
 Seneca^s prophetic advice — 
 
 ' Ingentes dominos et clarase nomina famae, 
 lUustrique graves nobilitate domos, 
 Devita, et longe cautus fuge ; contralie rela, 
 Et te littoribus cymba propinqua venat." 
 
 ^' Which only shows," said Mr. Pepys, " that 
 all lords, great people, and frequcDters of courts 
 and palaces, were as little worth in Seneca's time 
 as they are in ours, and no doubt will continue to
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 55 
 
 be so as long as the world lasts. As I take it, the 
 substance of things, animate and inanimate, in 
 all ages do remain the same ; it is only their ex- 
 ternal fashionings that do change, for which rea- 
 son, though manners, and customs, and laws, 
 and opinions may, and do, change in each succeed- 
 ing age, still human nature remains radically the 
 same." 
 
 ^' There is somethingin that, certainly," rejoined 
 Oliver Hartsfoot, •' for there can be no doubt that 
 the child-fables of infant states, when got hold of 
 by the youth of the same states — which are the 
 poets — become mythologies, and passing on till 
 they reach the crafty, middle age of nations, they 
 are converted into creeds ; but as all things move 
 in a circle through the great course of ages, they 
 at length again resolve themselves into their 
 original elements, while what is called history 
 must ever remain the great romance of time." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Pepys, '-'- with episodes as long 
 and as wearisome as those in Grand Cirus." 
 
 Perceiving that he had struck out a little be- 
 yond his companion's depth, Oliver Hartsfoot 
 said — 
 
 ^' By the way, T\Ir. Pepys, as you are a man of 
 plays and shows and diversions, can you tell me 
 how they are giving ' The Moor of Venice ' at 
 the Opera House ? for I hear they have changed 
 * Romeo and Juliet ' for that."
 
 56 Clamher Chase, 1670. 
 
 " Well, I really cannot. I saw ^ Romeo and 
 Juliet ' there, and it was miglity well done, Juliet 
 being enacted by an uncommon pretty woman ; 
 but I have no wish to see the other, for to tell 
 you the truth I heretofore thought much of 
 ' Othello, Moor of Venice,' esteemiu^ it a mighty 
 good play, and I read it again the other day, go- 
 ing by water to Deptford, but having so lately 
 read ' The Adventures of Five Hours,' this ' Othello' 
 seems a mean thing." 
 
 Such rank blasphemy did this seem to Master 
 Hartsfoot, that had Mr. Pepys taken an ar mebuse 
 and shot him through the heart he could scarcely 
 have staggered more ; so, remarking that the 
 chimes were striking twelve, he hastily took leave 
 of Mr. Pepys, for whom, however, fate had other 
 adventures of ^nq hours in store. Now it so 
 happened, that among the many mauvais plaisants 
 at the Court of " the Merry Monarch," no two 
 were more disappointed at the secresy preserved 
 by the King touching the purport of the Suffolk 
 girl's communication to him on the Mall than 
 Killegrew and Silas Titus ; more especially the 
 latter, who, as her editor, as he called himself, 
 thought he had a right to know her mission, 
 but all he did know, was what he had gleaned 
 from the courtiers ; to wit, that her advent on 
 the Mall, and the way in which she had accosted, 
 or rather besieged the king, who, though never
 
 1670. Clumber Cfiase. 57 
 
 so ill bred as his courtiers, having really a chival- 
 ric gallantry towards all womauj including even 
 the old, and the uq:1v, and who seemed as much 
 amused as his satellites at this rare specimen of 
 unhandsomeness,but, nevertheless, took the letter 
 she presented to him, enclosed in an envelope of 
 violet velvet, dantily embroidered in a bordering 
 of golden oak leaves, all save the address — 
 
 " To His Most Excellei^t Majesty, 
 
 KixG Charles the Second." 
 
 which was embroidered in small seed pearls. 
 
 When the King had broken the seal, and read 
 the letter with the greatest attention, he re-folded 
 and replaced it in its costly envelope, which he 
 then put, not in his pocket, but thrust it for 
 greater security into his bosom ; then turning to 
 the bearer, said — 
 
 *^ "We will send a written answer by a special 
 messenger before sun-down, meanwhile you may 
 say that our royal word is pledged to fulfil all 
 that is required of us in that letter." 
 
 ^' And then," added Killigrew, who was the 
 narrator of this scene to Silas Titus, he cast a 
 circular glance round at us all — for you know the 
 poor man never possesses his own Q^gj on even 
 the smallest piece of metal — and said, " Can any 
 of you lend me ten caroluses ?" 
 
 Sir Allen Broderick was the first to evince his 
 
 D 5
 
 58 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 devoted loyalty, by opening liis purse strings — a 
 folly lie is never guilty of to liis own relations, or 
 to his poorer fellow-creatures — and said, as he 
 handed the plethoric little gold mine to the 
 King— 
 
 *' Your Majesty spoke of sending a special 
 messenger somewhere before sun-down ; can I 
 have the honour of being of any use ?" 
 
 *^ Not exactly," said the King, who appeared 
 consumedly amused at the proposition, and 
 stooped down to flip some imaginary speck off 
 the point lace trimming of his boot, in order to 
 hide his mirth. '' Not exactly, Sir Allen ; but 
 later in this matter we shall most likely require 
 your assistance." 
 
 Sir Allen bowed, backed, and appeared to drape 
 himself in the amplitudes of a more than even 
 ordinary pomposity, while the King counted out 
 ten caroluses before handing him back his purse, 
 and then turning to your beautiful nymph of the 
 black wimple, which there ought to be an Act ot 
 Parliament passed to prevent her ever raising, he 
 said — 
 
 '* So faithful an Iris should not go unrequited," 
 and placed the ten gold pieces in her hand, at 
 which her cheeks grew almost as red as her hair, 
 though, like Ophelia's " rue, with a difference," 
 as she dropped a really not ungraceful curtsey, 
 saying—
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 59 
 
 "I cannot — thanking your Majesty all the 
 same — bnt I dare not ; we are never allowed to 
 take vails." 
 
 *^ But, my good girl," laughed the King, ^^ in 
 this big city of ours, these are considered pre- 
 vails. So you see, you will not be infringing 
 your orders, which were only against vails." 
 
 But her resolution was not to be shaken ; yet 
 with a good breeding that might have shamed 
 many more highly born, she accepted one^ as his 
 Majesty's picture given by himself. 
 
 The King, waving his hand to her as she 
 walked away, exclaimed — 
 
 '' Instead of Sir Allen Broderick's ten caro- 
 luses — oddsfish I — but I'd give my own three 
 crowns to have the power of saying NO, and 
 sticking to it, as that poor country wench does." 
 
 "Ah, well," yawned Silas Titus, "as we are 
 not likely to get any fun out of this wimple 
 mystery, that promised so much, lam determined 
 to take it out of old Pepys, if you will help me, 
 Kil-" 
 
 " Not if it's to carry off Mrs. P — , now that 
 she's just got her coach, for I really cannot be a 
 party to your aping your betters in that way ; the 
 Duke of York might resent it, as a personal skit 
 upon his brother." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, Kil, for that would be a 
 skit upon myself; for while carryings on are so
 
 60 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 easy, carryings off are always troublesome and 
 expensive. No, I have long had the conversion 
 of at least one of the Portuguese maids of honour 
 to Protestanism at heart, and Pepys is, or rather 
 shall be, the man to do it, or rather to attempt it ; 
 and you and I will be the unseen spectators of the 
 ivarm reception he will get from the Charming 
 Doila Mariquita, Dolores Zampaya." 
 
 '* Delightful !" roared Killegrew, clapping his 
 hands. ^' But do you think our portly-pompous, 
 pre-eminently decorous friend, the secretary, can 
 be springed into such a mare's nest as that ?" 
 
 " Only you leave him to me ; don't be — at 
 least, don't^ seem surprised at anything I say, 
 except to endorse it all. Pm now on my way to 
 waylay him, for I know he nearly daily walks in 
 Westminster Hall about this hour," and so say- 
 ing, on they walked, and scarcely had Oliver 
 Hartsfoot quitted him, before the two conspira- 
 tors joined their intended victim. 
 
 ^' So, Colonel Titus, any news of your nj'mph 
 of the black wimple and her quest of the King, 
 that you were telling us about the other day at 
 The Mulberry Tree?'' said Mr. Pepys, always on 
 the look out for gossip. 
 
 '' Pooh ! a mere flash in the pan, ending in 
 smoke, by all I can hear," rejoined Titus. 
 
 " Still water runs deep," said Mr. Pepys, 
 sagaciously shaking his head. '' Your disparage-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 61 
 
 ment of an adventure that opened so promisingly, 
 do remind me of a thing Mr. Batelier lately told 
 me, how he, being with some others at Bordeaux, 
 making a bargain with another man at a tavern 
 for some clarets, they did hire a fellow to thun- 
 der, which he had the art of doing, upon a deal 
 board, and to rain and hail — that is make the 
 noise of; so as did give them the pretence of 
 undervaluing the wines, by saying this thunder 
 would spoil them, which was so reasonable to the 
 merchant, that he did abate two pistoles a ton 
 for the wine in that belief." 
 
 ^' I can assure you, my good Mr. Pepys, there 
 was no deal board, or other thunder, in this 
 affair. My nymph, as you obligingly call her, 
 simply brought a letter to the King, which he 
 read, pocketed, and paid the bearer (as usual, 
 out cf someone else's pocket) for bringing. At 
 least, Killigrew tells me this was the aljyha and 
 omega of the whole affair, for you know I was 
 not an eye witness to it. But there is a matter 
 that has made some stir at Court, that I wanted 
 to consult you about, as you may do good ser- 
 vice ; but first, as you are such a constant church 
 goer, which church would you recommend to any- 
 one wishing to join a congregation ?" 
 
 Mr. Pepys ^ thinking that he knew his com- 
 pany pretty well, and all they could want at any 
 church, replied, tucking through a button hole
 
 62 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 one of the ends of his laced cravat, so as to dis- 
 play the pattern to more advantage, " Well, I 
 always find the prettiest women at St. Michael 
 and All Angels ; and at the French church, the 
 parson's three sisters are uncommon handsome ! 
 especially in the nose." 
 
 " In fact, they are all Angels," laughed Killi- 
 grew, 
 
 '' Xow, do be serious for once," said Titus, re- 
 provingly, " particularly on a serious subject ; 
 the fact is, Mr. Pepys," — lowering his voice to a 
 strictly confidential pitch — " one of the Queen's 
 Portuguese maids of honour has a strong inclina- 
 tion to forsake the errors of Popery, and become 
 a member of the reformed Church ; but she has 
 no opinion of any of us about Whitehall, so as 
 to chuse an instructor, but from all she has 
 heard, and what she has seen of you, would have 
 great faith in your councils." 
 
 '^ Seen of me ! Why, where did she ever see 
 me, to know it was me ?" 
 
 " Well, the other evening she went to Moor- 
 fields to see Polichinello, which is about the only 
 one of our public diversions she can understand, 
 and there she saw you, and was so much struck 
 by the gravity and wisdom of your deportment 
 when not laughing at the puppet show, that she 
 asked who you were, and was also much pleased 
 with your attentions to your wife."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 63 
 
 Mr. Pepy's face twitched, while he ejaculated a 
 faint '^ Good Lord !" as he added, inwardly, '' my 
 wife — why, it was Mercer." 
 
 " And," continued Titus, " we thought if she 
 could have some theological discourse with you, 
 her conversion might be managed quietly, with- 
 out any esdandre to irritate her Confessor, for 
 those Jesuits are edge tools to meddle with." 
 
 " But, good Lord !" exclaimed Mr. Pepys, now 
 perspiring at every pore, '' I don't know a word 
 of the Portingale tongue ; and even my French 
 is far to seek, and worth nothing when found." 
 
 ^^ Latin and gestures, my good sir, do wonders, 
 when there is a will on both sides." 
 
 " But there is no will on my side," protested 
 Mr. Pepys. 
 
 " I don't think you'd say so, if you knew how 
 much she admires your ' Beauty Retire,' and how 
 well she sings it." 
 
 "Oh I I have done ^ It is Decreed,' I think, 
 much better even, though I do hear on all sides 
 that ' Beauty Retire' hath taken mightily." 
 
 " Well, I hope," said Titus, returning to the 
 charge, "it is decreed that you will come to 
 White Hall this evening, at dusk, to save this 
 wandering soul." 
 
 " But which of them is it?" asked Mr. Pepys, 
 not quite impervious to the dexterous thrust about 
 '' Beauty Retire."
 
 64 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ^* Doiia Mariqiiita, Dolores Zampaya." 
 
 " Oh ! lord ! tlie most ill-favoured of the lot." 
 
 *^ Corae, come, be a man ; courage ! Mr. 
 Pepys/' said Killigrew, laying his hands on the 
 quivering Secretary's shoulder. '' You have only 
 to fancy yourself Perseus, arming to meet the gor- 
 gons, and depend upon it victory will be yours." 
 
 "• But if I should be seen ! — if I should be 
 known ! — if the Duke of York should find it out ! 
 — if the priests should make a stir, and send the 
 news to the Portugal King that I was inter- 
 meddling to upset popery ! Good lack ! it might 
 breed a war between England and the Portingales, 
 and all our fleet now among the Hollanders." 
 
 " Seen ! why you were not so timorous when 
 you blackened and smutted your face, and had 
 such high jinks the night before last at Lady 
 Pen^s, iVr. Pepys." 
 
 " Good Lord ! how on earth did you hear that? 
 One might as well have all one's doings published 
 in ' The AVhite Hall Gazette,' things get about so ; 
 indeed better, for the ' Gazette' only do come out 
 once a month, and if a man's private diversions 
 get wind in this way, what would it be if the 
 Portingales thought I was intermeddling to upset 
 the Pope !" 
 
 '' Nonsense, my good sir, there is no analogy 
 whatever between the two cases ; it was Peg Pen 
 herself who told me of your revelries, and dress-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 65 
 
 ings up. the other night at her mother's. And it 
 is not very likely that any one would tell, since 
 no one but the persons concerned, to wit, your • 
 self, the fair convert ! Killigrew, and I, would 
 know of your going up the back stairs in the 
 dusk of the evening to the maids of honour's 
 parlour, at the back of the green room, or 
 Council chamber, and you need only carry a few 
 tracts under your cloak." 
 
 ^' Tracts ! — Lord ! — I have not such a thing in 
 my house. I did destroy all that Puritan rub- 
 bish directly after the Restoration, thinking them 
 dangerous combustibles to be found in possession 
 of, and even ' Baxter's Shove' I shoved into the 
 fire. I have nothing in the way of polemics but 
 a large folio Life of Calvin, in Latin." 
 
 " The best of all," interrupted Titus; "mind 
 and bring the folio with you, and then you'll be 
 sure to carry weight T 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut," ruminated Mr. Pepys, begin- 
 ning to see more and more into the disagree- 
 able and onerous reality of his position, " I have 
 just bethought me, My brother John came up 
 yesterday, and is now at my house ; he is a 
 parson, though no great hand at either theology 
 or elocution, for I am always at him to mind his 
 pronunciation, and chastise his voice to better 
 modulation, surely he's the fittest to undertake a 
 conversion case ?''
 
 66 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 *^ Out of the question, in the present case, for 
 don't you see, my good sir, it's you the lady 
 fancied, and whose judgment she holds in such 
 high estimation ; and a bond fide clergyman of the 
 established church, attempting the conversion of 
 one of the Queen's maids of honour, might, 
 indeed, infuse a State and national flavour into 
 the aff'air, which never could attach to the friendly 
 intentions of a mere layman — don't you see !" 
 
 " Oh ! Lord !" groaned the doomed Secretary. 
 " Well, ril borrow my brother's cloak and 
 cassock, anyhow." 
 
 " Ah ! that's a capital idea ! — quite worthy of 
 Mr. Pepys' well-known sagacity, who is well 
 aware that nothing can be done in courts, and 
 more especially via the back stairs, tvithout a 
 cloaV^ 
 
 " But you'll be there to — to — to introduce 
 me ?" said Mr. Pepys, with a look of despairing 
 helplessness at his treacherous companions, such 
 as a manacled and condemned criminal might 
 cast on the gaol chaplain when arrived at the 
 foot of the gallows. 
 
 " To be sure we will," said the pair simul- 
 taneously ; " you'll find us waiting for you at 
 nine to night at the top of the back stairs ; but 
 mind how you come up, for the turnings are very 
 sharp ; indeed, a small dark lantern under your 
 cloak would be no bad precaution."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 67 
 
 " Oh I good lack ! no ; for if I was caught it 
 might go hard with me, by leading them into the 
 supposition that I was something in the Guy 
 Fawkes line.'* 
 
 ^'True," laughed Titus, "always prudent, al- 
 ways to the purpose, and full of forethought, Mr. 
 Pepys. There spoke the astute man, the man 
 of business, and the far-seeing statesman. Dona 
 Mariquita, may not be first cousin to Yenus 
 Aphordite ; but there can be no doubt, after the 
 judgment she has shown in her selection of a 
 mentor, that her pedigree is the same as that of 
 Pallas Athenee." 
 
 " You do give me some content in this matter; 
 still my fears do come to the surface, for there 
 never be wanting busy-bodies and mischief- 
 makers to spoil salvation as well as sport j and, 
 as I said before, if the diWAr should be false inter- 
 preted, and it should be twisted into a State plot 
 and breed a war between us and the Portingales, 
 and all our fleet away with the Hollanders — " 
 
 ^' Well, then go home, eat a good dinner, and 
 get Dutch courage by taking an extra glass or 
 two, and I'll bet you the whole English fleet to 
 an acorn that there will be no war, not even a 
 Trojan one, for this Portuguese Helen. So now 
 addios, but be sure not to forget the folio." 
 
 And these two worthies hurried away, lest 
 Mr. Pepys, who generally made the concrete
 
 68 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 wisdom of some proverb the text of all his actions, 
 should reflect that " second thoughts are the 
 best," and so change his mind. But Killigrew 
 exploded before they had got well clear of West- 
 minster Hall. 
 
 "Hush! for fun's sake, or you'll ruin all/' 
 said Titus, placing his hand upon his companion's 
 mouth. 
 
 '' Well, but," gasped the latter, when they had 
 got fairly into what is now called Parliament 
 Street, still holding his sides, " how on earth do 
 you mean to carry on this pretty plot ? for surely 
 you'll never subject a man of Mr. Pepy's respect- 
 ability to having his face scratched, his wig flung 
 out of the window, and himself after it, by the 
 gentle Mariquita, for what she would consider 
 his heretical impertinence ?" 
 
 " Thomas forbid ! Ihave anticipated everything. 
 He shall never be subjected to such foul usage 
 from any of the fair sex, as he shall not even see, 
 at least, on this occasion, the charming would-be 
 convert. You know, and what is more germain 
 to the matter, 1 know what an admirable mimic 
 you are, Kil, and how wonderfully you take ofi" 
 the maids of honour's confessor. Padre Zancas 
 Padrillo, so I have already ordered you one of his 
 huge hammer-shaped beavers at Holden's, and 
 the rest of the priestly attire at Blagden's. A 
 lank black wig, a pair of round, iron-rimmed
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 
 
 spectacles, and equal quantities of lamp-black 
 and verdigris, blent witb sweet oil, smeared over 
 your face, to give you a fine olive complexion, 
 will do the rest. You must remain on the top 
 landing, and so soon as you perceive Mr. Pepys 
 ascending, with his folio, flanked by your humble 
 servant, you must begin gesticulating furiously, 
 shaking both your clenched hands at him, and 
 splitting our ears by any jargon you choose to 
 invent on the moment, only plentifully interlard- 
 ing it with Los cativomalos Ingleses^ shrieked out 
 in that admirable din, between the chattering of 
 a dozen monkeys and fifty macaws, which you so 
 well know how to deafen your hearers with when 
 taking off" Padre Padrillo ; and which Mr. Pepys, 
 between his ignorance of the language and his 
 terror of the infuriated Padre, will be sure to take 
 for choice Portuguese." 
 
 ^^ Oh ! oh I oh I you'll be the death of the poor 
 secretary, Colonel," said young Killigrew, be- 
 tween his paroxysms of laughter. 
 
 "Not a bit of it." 
 
 " Well, then, at all events," rejoined the other, 
 *' you will have to add another act to ' Killing 
 no Murder.'* And how will you manage to ac- 
 count for Zancas Padrillo's having been put au 
 courant to Mr. Pepys' proselyting intentions ?" 
 
 " Oh ! that's the easiest part of the afiair. I 
 
 * Colonel Silas Titus was the author of " Killing no Murder.'
 
 70 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 shall tell Pepys that from my slight knowledge 
 of Portuguese, I gather from the Padre's furious 
 denunciations, that Dona Mariquita, woman-like, 
 betrayed herself, and that Padrillo then extorted 
 the whole matter from her in confession, but 
 that she had not given up his, Pepys' name, but 
 said it was some English clergyman, whose 
 name she did not know, or at least could not 
 pronounce." 
 
 " And what if the King — or, worse still, the 
 Queen should hear the uproar on the stairs ?'' 
 
 ^' Oh! the King will thoroughly enter into the 
 joke ; and as for the Queen, I shall soon think 
 of some story to satisfy her, and as Lord of the 
 Bedchamber, I have a perfect right to my entrees 
 at every back stairs in the Palace ; but remem- 
 ber, you are not to continue your vociferations a 
 moment after Mr. Pepys has taken to his heels, 
 which I am very certain he'U lose no time in do- 
 ing, for fear of that much dreaded war with the 
 Portingales ! So now, presto I begone, to rehearse 
 for the evening. 
 
 ' Act well your part —therein the honour lies.' " 
 
 And so saying, these two worthies separated, 
 to meet again at nine in the evening at the foot 
 of the back stairs, leading to the apartments of 
 the Maids of Honour. At that time there was 
 no inconvenient lighting, either of streets or
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 71 
 
 houses, in London ; at the first landing of the 
 said back stairs, flared an oil lamp, out of an 
 iron sconce, without any glass to shade or pro- 
 tect it, so that its unrestricted glare cast many 
 dim, false shadows down the narrow-pointed and 
 much worn stone stairs, giving just light enough 
 to " make darkness visible." But precisely as 
 the Palace clock struck nine, on that dark and 
 hazy night, poor Mr. Pepys, who was the soul 
 of conscientious punctuality in all things, might 
 have been seen by all the cats in the gutter and 
 on the house-tops, attired in his brother John's 
 cloak and cassoc, high steeple hat, and round 
 bob wig, or caxon, and the huge folio of The 
 life of Calvin," protruding from under his arm, 
 walking rapidly, but stealthily, close to the 
 Palace wall, till he neared the fatal stairs, at the 
 foot of which the treacherous Titus awaited him, 
 also cloaked and steeple-hatted. He silently ex- 
 tended his hand, and then, with a deep and 
 Bonorus, though whispered ^' Hush !" led the 
 way up the stairs, followed by his trembling, 
 though albeit, unsuspecting victim ; but no 
 sooner had they come within three steps of the 
 first landing, than forth rushed the sham Zancas 
 Padrillo, like " an embodied storm," and so ad- 
 mirably did he enact his part, and personate the 
 enraged Padre, that even Titus, who was in the 
 secret, was for a second almost deceived — so
 
 72 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 deafening was his vociferation, so menacing and 
 murderous the electric quivering of his clenched 
 hands, which he only opened to seize the ponder- 
 ous folio, and raise it above his own head, as if 
 to hurl it with greater impetus at the devoted 
 head of its owner, that poor Mr. Pepys, with a face 
 now streaming like a fountain tree, himself almost 
 swounded I When Titus, standing between him 
 and the mock anathematiser, whispered, at the 
 same time gallantly drawing his sword — '' Run ! 
 run ! my good sir, for your life^ and leave me to 
 deal with this mad brute. I'll make him know 
 that he shall not outrage any of His Majesty's 
 liege subjects in this way ; but wait in the street, 
 and I'll come to you the moment I have settled 
 him." Mr. Pepys did 7iot stand upon the order 
 of his going, but went at once, while the two 
 accomplices with difficulty suppressed their up- 
 roarious laughter till the poor secretary was safely 
 out of hearing. 
 
 " My dear Killigrew," said Titus, " you out- 
 did yourself! and, as they say in France, have 
 covered yourself with glory ! The King 7nust 
 see the scene either to-morrow or the next day, 
 though unfortunately with the chief actor left 
 out, but I think I could dress the part and do 
 him ; but I must take him back that pretty little 
 book, which I shall, of course, tell him I had the 
 greatest difficulty in rescuing from the infuriated
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 
 
 Padre. I must not, however, return to my friend 
 the Secretary, under a long half hour, to give him 
 an idea of the difficulties of my negotiation ; and 
 this is fortunate, as I am sure in less time than 
 that I could not recover my gravity." 
 
 Meanwhile poor Mr. Pepys was walking up 
 and down, his hat slouched over his eyes, his 
 cloak held before his mouth a la conspirateur, 
 and feeling almost as guilty, and certainly as 
 frightened, as the most sanguinary conspirator 
 could possibly have done. 
 
 *' Good Lord!" thought he^ " what a narrow 
 escape ! but mighty handsome of the Colonel, I 
 must say, to send me safely out of the waj^, and stay 
 and deal with the fellow all by himself. I do 
 hope there will be no bloodshed ; but how fortu- 
 nate that I was not in my own wig or clothes, or 
 in any other bravery, but in this quiet cassoc 
 and caxon, that no one would suspect had me 
 under them, though I do hope this affair will 
 bring no discredit on the cloth. I was right to 
 be so reluctant to enter into it. Truly man pro- 
 poses, but God disposes. Good lack ! how little 
 one can foresee, not what a day, but even what 
 an hour may bring forth ; and what fleeting 
 vapours are all human plans. I had laid it all 
 out, after doing what good I could to this ill- 
 favoured Portingale lady, whose soul, it is to be 
 hoped, is better worth preserving than her face. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 Yes, I had laid it all out to go to Heaven,^ and 
 have a quiet little bit of supper, and go home 
 early, as if from the office, that my wife might 
 ask me no questions. But, good Lord ! I'm so 
 flustered and shaken at the way things have turned 
 out, that when I have seen Colonel Titus, and 
 heard how he did deal with that mad bull of a 
 Jesuit, I shall slink down to the Dolphin — a mean 
 place compared to Heaven — but hard by, at the 
 river side, where 1 am not known, but where I 
 do remember that once during the fire we did not 
 fare so badly, or else that we were so sharp set, 
 having had nothing for three days but a shoulder 
 of mutton from the cook's, that we did not think 
 that we fared hardly ; and — " but here Mr. Pepy's 
 cogitations were interrupted by a riotous group 
 of merry makers, male and female, shouting and 
 bearing torches in their hands, one of the party 
 being Orange Moll ; but so little did she suspect 
 the proximity of the august Secretary, that she 
 said as she brushed past him, and nearly endan- 
 gered his equilibrium — 
 
 '^ Now then, parson, by yer leave, unless you 
 would like to join us." 
 
 '' Good Lord !" groaned Mr. Pepys, as they 
 
 * A place of entertainment so called, situated in Old Palace 
 Yard, on the site of which the Committee Eooms of the House of 
 Commons were erected some years ago. This "coffee-house 
 club;" as it was called when it existed, is mentioned in Hudibras 
 &3 "False Heaven at the end of the Hall." To wit, Westminster 
 Hall.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 75 
 
 past on, '^ what a mercy slie did not know me 
 in this trim. But what risks 1 do run. I do 
 wish the Colonel would come, and hope there has 
 been no bloodshed or bones broke. I wish I had 
 kept steady to my first mind, and refused flatly 
 to have anything to do with the conversion of 
 that ugly Portingale wench. Oh ! Colonel, Im 
 so glad ; the Lord be praised ! you are safe," 
 added he, suddenly perceiving Titus approaching 
 him, beaver in hand, and mopping his face with 
 his handkerchief, as if removing the hot traces of 
 the fray. 
 
 *' Well,'* exclaimed the gallant Colonel, ^' it 
 has been a sharp bout, but I think I've frightened 
 the fellow nearly out of his ugly skin, and eflect- 
 ually insured his silence about the matter." 
 
 '' Good lack I that do give me great content ; 
 but how did you manage that so cleverly, 
 Colonel?" 
 
 *• Why, when I could get him to cease his 
 Portuguese jargon, and speak Latin, though you 
 know they pronounce it so differently to us, that 
 I had at first, between that and his passion, some 
 difficulty in understanding him, but at length I 
 made out that Dona Mariquita had betrayed her 
 own yearnings after a change of creed, at which 
 the Padre took alarm, and never ceased till he 
 wormed the whole afi'air out of her at confession, 
 and that she expected a Protestant gentleman 
 
 E 2
 
 76 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 of great weight and distinction to come and dis- 
 course with her on the subject this very evening, 
 whereupon, throwing myself into a terrible pas- 
 sion, I pointed out to him that she had sought 
 you^ and not you her ; and then, in order to turn 
 the tables on him, dexterously availed myself of 
 your capital idea of his assault upon a person of 
 your distinction becoming a casus belli between 
 England and Portugal." 
 
 '' Good lack !" interrupted Mr. Pepys, ^^ but I 
 hope you did not name me ?" 
 
 "Not for the world; I did not compromise 
 either you or myself by actually affirming it, but 
 I left him under the full conviction that it was 
 no less a personage than the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, at whose sacred head he had attempted 
 to hurl this ponderous tome, and whom he had 
 so soundly abused and so grossly insulted. This, 
 and the impending war trembling in the balance, 
 so effectually terrified him, that he soon began 
 to CYj peccavi ; the more he did so, the more I 
 held out the difficulties of appeasing you, and 
 inducing you to be silent upon the outrage 
 you had received. However, I at length gra- 
 ciously condescended to be mollified, ^oioij/or the 
 sake of not endangering the peace of the two 
 countries ! and making him take a solemn oath 
 never to divulge a syllable of what had passed, 
 and promising to give twenty pieces of eight to
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 11 
 
 the poor of the parish ! I • left him, faithfully 
 covenanting on my side that no proceedings 
 should be taken against him.'^ 
 
 " I vow to the Lord," said Mr. Pepys, now 
 indulging in a quiet little laugh of perfect safety 
 and release, '' you managed this difficult busi- 
 ness mighty cleverly, and with great discretion." 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before 
 the sham Padre — who, indeed, had overheard the 
 whole conversation, hidden by a convenient angle 
 of the building — passed close to them, and re- 
 moving his huge hammer-shaped hat, bowed 
 deferentially down to the very ground, and hur- 
 ried on as fast as possible. 
 
 " You see," said Titus, " how I have brought 
 the fellow to his bearings ; how civil he is, and 
 how frightened he evidently is." 
 
 " Good lack ! yes, after being like a mad 
 bnU!" 
 
 "All Papal bulls are mad bulls," rejoined 
 Titus ; " bnt I was to play a maia of Gleek with 
 the King at ten of the clock, so I must be go- 
 ing." 
 
 " Well, Colonel, all I can say is that I am 
 mightily beholden to you." 
 
 " Not at all— not at all." 
 
 " But you see I was right when I did not wish 
 to entertain the project." 
 
 " It was never meant that you should," thought
 
 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 Titus, as he walked back into the Palace ; '^ it 
 was only intended to entertain us, which it has 
 done beyond our most sanguine expectations. 
 As for Killigrew, he'd make his fortune at the 
 King's, or the Duke's house." 
 
 No sooner was he quit of his gallant friend, 
 than Mr. Pepys, to use his own form of speech, 
 slunk down to The Dolphin, and on his arrival, 
 asked the Drawer what he could have with the 
 least delay for supper ? 
 
 " Well, your Reverence, there is a fine fresh 
 lobster, and the remnant of a cold venison 
 pasty." 
 
 " That will do ; let me have them forthwith, 
 and a sack posset with them. But, ho ! stop ; 
 bring me first a small tankard of mum."* 
 
 " For, good lack !" thought Mr. Pepys, ^^ I 
 am still so flustered by that mad Priest, that I 
 do need something to keep up my strength. But 
 'tis pretty to see how they do take me for a par- 
 son on account of my dress, and how well I do 
 become the cloath." 
 
 The drawer soon returned, bearing not only 
 the mum, but the supper. '' That is a mighty 
 fine lobster !" said Mister Pepys, but at the same 
 time recollecting how once on board '' The 
 Nazeby," when he went with my Lord Sandwich 
 
 * " Mum," a very rich, strong, and highly spiced German 
 beer — not spiced before it was drunk, but spiced in the brewing, 
 
 and used chiefly, at that time, by invalids.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 
 
 to bring the KLag over from Breda, he had had 
 his dinner spoilt by their bringing him oil. in- 
 stead of vinegar, with a lobster, he told the 
 drawer to be sure and not make a like mistake. 
 " And," said he, seating himself at table, and 
 tying the napkin round his neck, as if he was 
 going to be shaved, for fear of spoiling his 
 brother John's cassoc, '• you may as well bring 
 me the reckoning now, as 1 am in a hurry to be 
 off, and here is a sixpence for yourself.'' 
 
 IN'ow, whether it was from his previous unusual 
 excitement, the toughness of the venison pasty, 
 which Mr. Pepys declared like one he had some 
 time dined off at his brother Tom's, '^ was pal- 
 pable mutton, which was not handsome" — or 
 from the density of the lobster, or the potency of 
 the mum, or the insidiousness of the sack, or 
 from all combined; but certain it is, that no 
 sooner had he suj^ped, than leaning to one side 
 of the high-backed arm chair in which he sat, 
 than he fell fast asleep, dreaming of the most 
 terrible conflicts between himself and Padre 
 Zancas Pedrillo, and that he was belaboured 
 almost to pulverisation with the huge Life of 
 Calvin. What may have ad led, and no doubt 
 did so, to his terrible physical mal aisCy was, that 
 he had gone to sleep with a window open at his 
 back, which, through the flimsy red and white 
 check serge curtain, blew in on the back of his
 
 80 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 neck all the dense, damp, concrete fog, from the 
 river ; and vrith the usual incongruous phantasma 
 of dreams, at the same time that the priest was 
 pounding him, he thought he saw Major- General 
 Harrison, one of the regicides, being hung, 
 drawn, and quartered at Charing Cross, and 
 remarked in his sleep, as he had so often done in 
 his waking hours, that ^' the general looked as 
 cheerful as any man could under the circum- 
 stances ! " adding a somnolent " good Lord ! and 
 to think that I cannot even bear up under a 
 drubbing from this scurvy Jesuit." But after one 
 still more severe blow from Padrillo, to wit, a 
 more violent twinge of lumbago, Mr. Fepys was 
 awoke, by the bellman* crying, '^ Half-past two 
 of the clock, and a cloudy morning." Starting 
 to his feet, and rubbing his eyes, he exclaimed, 
 '"' Lord save us ! Half-past two in the morning !" 
 and then, finding he could not stand upright 
 without excruciating pain, he added, ''good lack ! 
 I am all buckled ! f — how on earth shall I get 
 home ; yet home I must get as soon as possible." 
 Now, Mr. Pepys never stirred abroad without the 
 key of his hall door, and it was none of your 
 little trumpery trinkets, like a modern latch key, 
 
 * The watchmen of tLat time alwaps rang a hand-bell — as see 
 in 11 Penseroso. 
 
 " Or the bellman's drowsy charm, 
 To bless the door from nightly harm," 
 t Bent, in which sense buckled is used by Shakspeare, Henry 
 IV., Part II., Act 1st, Scene 3rd.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 81 
 
 but a portly formidable -looking implement, such 
 as would not have discredited the Tower of Lon- 
 don_, in its palmy days ; so that was not the diffi- 
 culty about his getting home : the difficulty was 
 how he should account to Mrs. Pepys for his 
 prolonged and solitary absence ; but that he must 
 decide upon as he went ; the thing now was to 
 get home : and in order to do so, to get out of 
 The Dolphin as soon as possible ; therefore ad- 
 justing his wig by an exceedingly uncomplimen- 
 tary triangular piece of cracked looking-glass 
 over the mantel -piece, which leant forward, as if 
 to cast injurious reflections upon every one who 
 passed through the room, he next put on his 
 steeple hat, and seized " The Life of Calvin," 
 from which he had suftered so severely during his 
 adventures of the last five hours ; he then hurried, 
 or rather hobbled, into the street, but with the 
 exercise soon began to find his limbs grow more 
 supple, and at last, that they had conveyed him 
 to his own door, where the lock was too well oiled, 
 and the key kept too constantly on active service 
 to grate in the wards, or make any other un- 
 seemly noise. But great was Mr. Pepys' dismay 
 when the portal opened on its noiseless hinges, 
 to perceive his maid servant at the foot of the 
 stairs, with a candle and a glass of water. 
 '• Good lack ! Jane — you up at this hour ? " 
 '' Laur, sir ! I took you for Parson John." 
 
 E 5
 
 82 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 " No matter who you took me for ; how come 
 you not abed? " 
 
 " Laur, sir, madam have been swounding and 
 scolding ever since a little after ten of the clock, 
 and this is the fifth glass of water I've been 
 down for." 
 
 '' And Where's Mercer ? '* 
 
 " She have gone away home to her mother, 
 sir." 
 
 " The jade ! My wife did well to take time to 
 beat her when she ran away before, at the time 
 of the great fire ; and when I can get hold of 
 her I'll baste her with a broom stick, as I did the 
 other girl. You can tell your mistress I've come 
 home, Jane, and that I've been detained by great 
 affairs. I'll just step into my dressing chamber, 
 and put off these things and slip on my night 
 gown"^ before I go up." 
 
 Mr. Pepy's felt intuitively that there was no 
 danger in his wife's illness; indeed, that what- 
 ever danger there might be related more to him- 
 self, so that there was no occasion for him to 
 hurry, till, like General Harrison on the occasion 
 of his being hanged, drawn, and quartered, he 
 had made himself " as cheerful as a man could 
 be under the circumstances ;" and during his in- 
 
 * What are now called dressing-gowns were at that time called 
 night-gowns ; just as ladies' evening dresses were called nig t- 
 gowns also, which they continued to be so called up to the begin- 
 ning of George the Third's reign.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 83 
 
 duction into his " night-gown " and slippers, he 
 took the precaution of recollecting every scrap of 
 gossip he had picked up during the day, as one 
 of various intended peace offerings. 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut, my dear," said he, upon enter- 
 ing the nuptial chamber ; " Jane do tell me that 
 you are not well. I am so sorry — " 
 
 *^ It is a pretty time of the night, or rather 
 morning, Mr. Pepys, to express your sorrow." 
 
 '^ My dear, I have had horse work of it all 
 day ; first at the Parliament House, then at the 
 office, signing a death load of pardons, and it do 
 trouble me to think I get nothing by them. 
 Then all night at Whitehall, on most unusual 
 business^ with some of the Lords of the Bed- 
 chamber, and — " 
 
 " Oh ! yes,^' broke in Mrs. Pepys ; "I know 
 all about it. The Parliament House, and the 
 office, and Whitehall, are very convenient doors 
 to lay all your doings at, when junketting and 
 jackenapsing with your Knipps, and your Pierces, 
 and your Pegs — the shameless hussies !" 
 
 " I vow to the Lord, my dear, I have never 
 seen so much as the shadows of their whisks f" 
 the last time I see either Knipp or Pierce was 
 when you was with me at Paul's Walk, and I 
 did give you all a pair of plain jessimay gloves a 
 
 * A peculiar sort of hood, with a cardinal or large tippet at- 
 tached to it, worn by women at that time.
 
 84 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 j)iece, and you a pair of white ones more than 
 the rest, which you did take in good part at the 
 time." 
 
 However that may have been, Mrs. Pepys so 
 stormed and raved now that Mr. Pepys could not 
 for some time bring up his great guns of a pre- 
 meditated new gown, and an evening at the 
 King's House on the morrow. Now it is in the 
 nature of things, that however good cause per- 
 sons of a suspicious temperament may in general 
 have for their doubts of an individual upon whom 
 they are in the habit of exercising this species of 
 penetration, that it will occasionally happen that 
 they shoot wide of the mark by aiming at the 
 wrong time and place \ and it is also in the nature 
 of things, as a pendant to this, that when the 
 suspected personage, though ninety-nine times 
 fully justifying the most unlimited suspicion, yet 
 when unjustly accused on the hundredth, chafes 
 and writhes under the villanous injustice of the 
 thing, as if they were " one perfect crysolite " of 
 injured innocence, and such were Mr. Pepys' 
 feelings on the present occasion, till in a climac- 
 teric paroxysm he seized his wig with both hands, 
 and flung it to the other end of the room, as he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 ^' I vow to the Lord ! you are the most unjust 
 and unreasonable woman that ever was, when I 
 do study all I can for your pleasure and diver-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 85 
 
 sion. It was only this afternoon I did hear of 
 my she-cousin Potter being come to town, 
 and did arrange with her to go with ns to the 
 King's House to-morrow, where they do give 
 '' Love in a Tub," and where the King and the 
 whole Court are to be ; and my Lady Castle- 
 maine to have a dress, newly come from Paris, 
 the like of which has never — they say — been seen 
 for splendour ; and having got all my navy 
 money paid, and great promise of more favour 
 from my Lord,"^ I did conceit that you should 
 have a dress the match of my Lady Castlemaine's, 
 if you were so minded — and it is brave, as they 
 say — and this is the thanks you give me for my 
 pains. "t 
 
 '' Nay, nay, Mr. Pepys, I am always ready to 
 hear reason when you talk reason ; and if I have 
 suspected you wrong I'm very sorry. But when 
 
 * Sandwich. 
 
 t Mr. Pepys must have considered himself fortunate in es- 
 caping so easily on this occasion, as the following details occur 
 in his diary, page 82, vol v., which is another instance how much 
 stranger truth is than fiction. " She (Mrs Pepys) fell out into a 
 fury that I was a rogue and false to her. I did, as I might 
 truly, deny it, and was mightily troubled ; but all would not 
 serve. At last, about one o'clock, she come to my side of the bed 
 and drew my curtain open, and with the tongs red hot at the ends 
 made as if she did design to pinch me with them." To which 
 the editor of the diary adds the following — 
 
 *' Mrs. Pepys seemed inclined to have acted on the legend of 
 St. Dunstan, who, 
 
 " As the story goes, 
 Once pull'd the devil by the nose, 
 With red hot tongs, which made him roar, 
 That he was heard three miles and more."
 
 86 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 you go out at eight of the clock of an evening, 
 never say where you are going, and don't come 
 home till three in the morning, what am I to 
 think ?" 
 
 " Not to think about it !" snapped Mr. Pepys. 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Pepys, with a re- 
 signed sigh, as she wondered what Lady Castle- 
 maine's new dress could be like — if it was more 
 splendid than her usual ones ; and then, in order 
 to let bygones be bygones, she said, in her nor- 
 mal piano tone, " Well, my dear, and what news 
 is there stirring?" 
 
 Mr. Pepys, who was by no means sorry that 
 the battle was over — that is to say, fought and 
 won by him, Samuel Pepys, now seated himself 
 beside the bed, mopped his face, and then an- 
 swered — 
 
 " The latest I did hear was from my Lord 
 Sandwich, this morning." 
 
 '^ You mean yesterday morning, Mr. Pepys." 
 
 " Well, yesterday morning," frowned Mr. 
 Pepys — " whom I did find in bed, he having 
 been up late with the King, Queen, and Princess, 
 at the Cockpit all night, where the Duke of 
 Albermarle treated them, and after supper, a 
 play, where the King did put a great affront 
 upon Singleton's music, he bidding them stop, 
 and made the French music play, which my Lord 
 says do much outdo all ours. Oh ! and my Lady
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 87 
 
 Sandwich did give me two bottles of Florence 
 wine for you." 
 
 ** Is it nice ?" 
 
 " Well, I think Sir WHliam Pen did hit it off 
 when he did say it might truly be called a sen- 
 sible wine, and just suited to the times, for it 
 was not over nice ; and I did add, which caused 
 them great merriment and content, that it was 
 like Ned Kestavin's wife — weak and sweet, yet 
 sharp, and insipid with all. And now, my dear," 
 added Mr. Pepys, too thankful that there was 
 such a place of refuge, ^' let us to bed, for I have 
 to ride as far as Deptford before breakfast, to see 
 the landing of the seven Flanders mares my 
 Lord hath bought." And the worthy Secretary 
 soon slept the sleep of the just, resolving not to 
 enter a syllable of what he called his bout with 
 the Jesuit, in his diary, and still less to let a 
 hint of it escape to his wife ; on the same prin- 
 ciple that induced Dr. Busby to request Charles 
 the Second's permission to wear his hat in the 
 royal presence, for if ever his boys got it into 
 their heads that there could be a greater man in 
 the kingdom than himself, he never should be 
 able to do anything with them.
 
 88 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 )5 
 
 " NO MAN IS A HERO TO HIS VALET DE CHAMBRE, 
 NOR TO ANT ONE ELSe's VALET DE CHAMBRE EITHER. 
 
 Ad suum quemque arquum est qusestum esse callidum. 
 
 Plautus. 
 
 Les beaux espeits, se eencontrent. 
 
 T first Dorothy Neville was not only 
 annoyed, but indignant, that her 
 mother should have hunted Master 
 Hartsfoot out of his lair, " to gallant 
 
 her forsooth I to public diversions ; what did she 
 want of such nonsense, who could not, and would 
 not be amused ; as she was thoroughly and hope- 
 lessly miserable, why could they not leave her in 
 peace, and let her be comfortably wretched ? " 
 For at eighteen all miseries are of course hope- 
 less, there being no time to remedy or efface 
 them ; it is only at sixty, or on the wrong side of 
 seventy, human wisdom is so matured, as to lay 
 plans, extending into the far future, and so dis- 
 charge all present incumbrances by drafts on 
 Hope, payable by Time ; the young are no such 
 expert financiers ; their moral and psychlogical 
 existence is a from hand to mouth one ; with
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 89 
 
 them, more than sufficient for the day is the 
 evil thereof ; thev have no horizon ; all their 
 miseries are bounded by a dead wall. But as 
 nature has provided all animals with instincts, 
 and appurtenances suitable to their position and 
 necessities, so has she provided even the most 
 innocent and artless characters, from the moment 
 Love obtrudes himself into their affairs, with a 
 peculiar and most subtile cunning, which serves 
 them as a scotescope,^ enabling them through the 
 most tenebrus darkness, to discover with the most 
 perfect distinctness, objects hidden to all other 
 eyes. For which reason, the fair Dorothy, though 
 indignant at first at her mother supposing that 
 there was anything in this world that she cared 
 to see, now that her particular sun had set, yet 
 soon perceived by the aid of the aforesaid scotes- 
 cope, that dark as all her surroundings were, from 
 the fact of Gilbert Broderick having been for- 
 bidden to appear at her mother's house on the 
 Mall, or at The Chestnuts, her only chance of 
 seeing him, for she had no intention of meeting 
 him, would be at public places, from which no 
 amount of parental tyranny could exclude him. 
 So, albeit, she suddenly became the most docile, 
 tractable daughter in the world, and not only 
 accepted Master Hartsfoot's escort with alacrity, 
 
 * Scotescope. an instrument enabling persons to see objects in 
 the dark.
 
 90 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 but displayed such avidity to go to every public 
 place, that it occasionally called forth urgent 
 remonstrances from Master Oliver, not, to do him 
 justice, on his own account, but on hers ; for, 
 vulgarly free and coarsely hybrid as the manners 
 and customs of the day were, he had more than 
 misgivings, that some places of public resort 
 there were, despite their great vogue, and high 
 fashion, which were anything but fitting scenes 
 for a young, pure-minded, and carefully brought 
 up girl, like Dorothy Neville ; and he often mar- 
 velled that seeing how listless and distraite she for 
 the most part was at such places, that still her 
 eagerness to frequent them did not abate. Poor 
 Dorothy ! like us all, hers was a shadow hunt — 
 consequently the excitement never flagged, and 
 if she only caught sight of the tip of one of 
 Gilbert's feathers, a flash from his sword-hilt, or 
 heard the clank of his spurs, — let alone ever 
 caught one electric glance from his eyes, or if his 
 cloak touched her sleeve in the press of the crowd, 
 she was amply repaid for three months weary 
 pleasure-seeking, and had an ample provision 
 to exist upon for another three months. For 
 although chameleons do live on air, " good lack!" 
 as our worthy friend Mr. Pepys would say, why 
 they are gross and aldermanic feeders, compared 
 with true lovers ; a race that only became extinct 
 towards the latter part of the eighteenth century.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 91 
 
 Such being the state of things, poor Master 
 Hartsfoot became like Sin itself, inasmuch as 
 that he also had no holidays. Now it so happens 
 that whenever the masters and mistresses of any 
 two houses have established a great intimacy, 
 the connecting-links of the chain are sure to 
 descend into the lower regions, and render the 
 liaisons of the respective servants'-halls and 
 offices, equally close. And as Master Hartsfoot 
 found himself on daily duty at Madam Neville's, 
 of course Noah Pump had equally important 
 affairs to transact (or at least to discuss) daily in 
 Madam Neville's kitchen and pantry, or at her 
 hall door. 
 
 And now, she being from home on one par- 
 ticular afternoon, and her butler, Jessop, having 
 just taken in a large box of grouse that had 
 arrived from Scotland, and deposited its contents 
 on the hall table till his mistress's return, stood 
 at the back or street entrance door, with his 
 liveried coadjutor Launcelot Amyot, annotating 
 their master's and mistress's acquaintances, their 
 sayings, doings, goings, comings, &c., &c., as 
 always has been, and always will be, the wont of 
 their order. 
 
 *^ Ah ! well, in course the quality knows best," 
 said Noah Pump, in continuation of a foregone 
 conversation ; " but I calls the doings as have 
 gone on since the restoration a disgrace to hain-
 
 92 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 tient Babylon. Not but wbat I am main joyful 
 to think as my master lives more like a Christian 
 now, and do take a power of diversion, going 
 about with pretty Mistress Dorothy, instead of 
 cobwebbing and moulding his self with them 
 there save oris (savans) ; save on's they are^ sure 
 enough; at least, they saves on us, and never 
 gives no vails. And all their discourse is about 
 the haintients and the haintients, as I says to my 
 master, after one of these dry-bone, old-iron-and- 
 rag gatherings of the save ons at our house, where 
 they keeps us up till two in the morning ; I says, 
 says I, you'll excuse me, sir, but I've been a 
 thinking, if so be as things goes on as they are a 
 going, what a pretty figure rce shall cut by the 
 time we becomes the hantients." 
 
 '•'' Lord ! Xoah Pump, surely you never made 
 so bold with Master Hartsfoot as that ?" put in 
 the orthodox and pre-eminently respectable 
 Jessop. 
 
 ^^ But I did though, and he only smiled in his 
 own quiet, kind way, and said, ' Well, you are 
 not far wrong there, Noah.' " 
 
 " Well," rejoined Jessop, shaking his head 
 with reproving gravity, and resting the knuckles 
 of both his hands on his hips, with the palms 
 turned outwards, " it's no reason because masters 
 are kind and easy that they are to be taken 
 liberties with, and encroached upon, and I
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 93 
 
 wouldn't for tlie best tierce of claret I ever bottled, 
 or the oldest butt of sack I ever broached, have 
 taken such a liberty with a master or mistress of 
 mine." 
 
 '' Aye, but we's fosterers, and was both nursed 
 by the same mother." 
 
 '' Then, Noah, my man, you should have more 
 mother wit than to treat a gentleman of Master 
 Hartsfoot's standing and acquirements with such 
 unseemly familiarity." 
 
 '^ That's good !" said Noah, '' to learn vie how 
 to comport myself to Master Hartsfoot — me as 
 would cut myself in mincemeat twenty times over 
 for him any day ; and if / don't know how to 
 respect him. Master Jessop, I should like to know 
 who did, seeing that his goodness is like the latter 
 half of eternity, and has no end, for Parson Still- 
 ingfleet told us last Sunday that eternity had 
 neither beginning nor end." 
 
 " I must say," put in Launcelot, in order to 
 divert the personal turn the conversation had 
 taken, and appease Noah's rising choler, '' I must 
 say I quite agrees with Noah Pump about them 
 there save ons^ for my father, when I was a boy, 
 lived as butler with old Mr. Selden, where the 
 save ons used to have just the same old bone-and- 
 rag meetings, and the same discourse about old 
 books, and about the hantients, as Noah describes 
 as going hon at Master Hartsfoot's ; so that 
 I've seen di.i[idiheered a deal about them ere save ons
 
 94 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 and authors in my time ; and, poor creturSj 
 hevery allowance should be made for 'em by their 
 ra^tional fellow creturs, for my belief is, Noah 
 Pump, that they han't got all their buttons.""^ 
 
 " There, you've hit it, Launcelot Amyot; but 
 how can you account for them as has all their 
 buttons ; doing sometimes c>;2 accountably strange, 
 not to say silly things ? Now 1 take it, that if 
 ever woman had all her buttons, aye, and all her 
 hooks and eyes to boot, that woman is Madam 
 Neville ; and yet they must have been so badly 
 sewn on as every one to have dropped oif when 
 she took that born devil, Bridget Butson, for a 
 cook." 
 
 " Well, but you know. Pump, it is the devil 
 who do send cooks." 
 
 ''■ At all events he sent this one. Master Jessop ; 
 but I marvel at Madam's taking her, she having 
 lived with the king's head concubine, my Lady 
 Castlemaine." 
 
 ^' Madam knew nothing about that when she 
 hired her."t 
 
 * A West of England expression, commonly used by the Devon- 
 shire and Somersetshire people to this day, to intimate that a 
 person is not overburdened with sense, and in short, has not half 
 his wits about him. 
 
 t It was customary at that time to take servants without any 
 references from the persons with whom they had previously lived, 
 and Pepys, in alluding to this very strange and dangerous custom, 
 says, '"'Tispity when we copy so much that is bad from the 
 French that we do not copy the good, and take no servants but 
 such as are recommended by Ihe masters they served ; and also, 
 that, before entering an inn or tavern, we do not as the French 
 do, make an arrangement beforehand for our meat and lodging."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 95 
 
 "I also marvel that Bridget, getting such 
 enormous wages as twelve pounds^ a year from 
 my Lady Castlemaine, she should have ever left 
 her place." 
 
 " She said she would not live with any lady 
 who swore at her, were she fifty times the king's 
 mistress." 
 
 " Good Lord deliver us I Does she swear, 
 too ? But vhat had she to swear at Bridget But- 
 son for ? as she is a good cook, and as the devil 
 always takes care of his own, surely he'd do his 
 best for Madam Castlemaine.'* 
 
 '' She tells me the way of it was this. One 
 night that the King was to sup at my Lady 
 Castlemaine's. I say one night, though he 
 sups there every night; however, one night 
 in particular the kitchen was flooded, as 
 they so often are at Whitehall Gardens. There 
 was a chine of beef, for one thing, to be roasted 
 for supper. Butson declared that with the kitchen 
 in that state to roast it was impossible, when 
 down comes my lady in the midst of her dressing, 
 with her beautiftd hair all over her beautiful 
 shoulders, looking as beautiful as an angel, and 
 as angry as a ftiry, and stamping her foot at 
 
 * Long after that, indeed up to George the Second's time, 
 Bervants' wages were remarkably low, for Mrs, ^Delaney men- 
 tions it with great surprise, the "very high wages Lady 
 Cowper gave her maid," viz., four pounds a year. Just imagine 
 the face of modem /ez/ir/te <fe chamhra at being insulted with the 
 offer of four times four pounds a year !
 
 96 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 Butson, said, ^ Zounds ! woman, though you set 
 the house on fire you must roast it." 
 
 '' And these is ladies and gentlemen ! kings 
 and countesses !" cried Noah Pump, throwing up 
 his hands and eyes. 
 
 "That don't follow. Master Pump," ruled 
 Jessop, " they may be the latter, but I deny their 
 being the first." 
 
 " Whew ! ladies and gentlemen," whistled 
 Launcelot, " there hain't none made now. My be- 
 lief is that they went out of fashion with Padua 
 velvet frizzed at the back, of which King James 
 had the last yard to make him a nightgown. 
 And as for the meanness of the quality now a 
 days, it's just past crediting. There's a pretty 
 skinflint for you, that Sir Allen Broderick, with 
 all his pompostious grand airs, and strutting and 
 swaggering ; a more scurvy skellum"^ never had 
 the tormenting of his fellow creturs." 
 
 "Hush! hush!" interrupted Jessop, "if you 
 don't bridle that tongue of yours, Launcelot 
 Amyot, you may chance to want a bit in your 
 mouth before you die ; and in making so free 
 with the name you forget the good lady of 
 Clumber Chase, that is more like an angel with- 
 out wings than anything else I can compare her 
 to ; and you also forget how near Sir Allen 
 
 ♦ Skellum—" villain," according to Johnson j " a mean varlet," 
 according to Tudor lexicographers.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 97 
 
 was to being our young mistress's father-in- 
 law." 
 
 ^'No, I don't; but for that matter Sir Allen 
 Broderick is always near to every one, and a 
 lucky escape Mistress Dorothy have had say I ; 
 though I must own that Master Gilbert is no 
 more like his father than light is to darkness. 
 His mother saved him ; he favours her, not only 
 in appearance, but in dis^Dosition. Ah ! poor 
 lady, it was fortunate for her that her skellum of 
 a husband was not long in breaking of her heart, 
 and putting on her out of her misery. But I 
 was just a going to tell Noah Pump how Master 
 Fairlop, the Duke of Albemarle's butler, paid off 
 Sir Allen tiQinenjus ! the other day. As birds of 
 a feather flock together, Sir Allen is for ever a 
 going and coming at all hours of the day and 
 night to the Duke's place, near Epsom, and 
 giving no end of trouble to the servants, but 
 never giving on them nothink else ; but always^ 
 when he leaves, going through a piece of stage 
 play like, in tapping his pocket and saying, ^ I've 
 no money about me ; but another time, another 
 time. Master Fairlop ;' which Fairlop and all 
 the other servants do think my Lady Duchess 
 have put him up to, for with all her Duchesship 
 Bess Clarges she was, and Bess Clarges she'll 
 remain till the hend of the chapter ; and she's 
 just as great a screw as Sir Allen. Lor, if so be 
 
 VOL. I. r
 
 98 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 as they are only fastened in their coffins with their 
 own screws they'll be screwed tight enough I'll 
 warrant ye. Well, as I was a going to tell you, 
 one night, about a month ago, after they had waited 
 supper till all hours at my Lord Duke's for Sir 
 Allen, and no Sir Allen came, just as they was a 
 going to bed, about twelve of the clock, comes a 
 loud ringing at the door. Now you must know 
 Prodgers, the King's rcalley -de-sham^ had brought 
 down some papers for the Duke from the King 
 in the afternoon, and wanted to return immejet ; 
 but the Duke, expecting Sir Allen, pressed 
 Prodgers against his will to stay, and he would 
 have his company back to town after supper. So 
 when they heard this loud ringing so late, be- 
 sides every servant in the house, the Duke and 
 Duchess, with Prodgers, rushed into the hall, 
 thinking it was some royal express come after 
 Prodgers ; but when the door was opened, it was 
 Sir Allen Broderick, much splashed and bemired, 
 his sword gone, half the feathers round his hat 
 torn away, and one side of his point collar hang- 
 ing in shreds ; he was terrible out of breath, and 
 had left his horse at the stables before he come 
 up to the house, and after he had pologised to the 
 Duke and Duchess — never a servant moving to 
 offer to help him off with his cloak, till the Duke 
 told Fairlop to do so — Sir Allen panted out, ' I 
 have been attacked by highwaymen, and being
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 99 
 
 only two to four, the varlets have escaped us.' 
 Here was Fairlop's opportunity, and he did not 
 miss it ; but said in a loud voice, so that every- 
 one might hear, specially Prodgers, who would 
 be sure to tell the King ; but though Fairlop's 
 voice was very loud his manner was uncommon 
 respectful, and he made a low bow as he brought 
 out the words — 
 
 '' ' What a fortunate thing it is, Sir Allen, that 
 you never have any money about you ; so it's a 
 comfort to think how the rogues must have been 
 disappointed.' 
 
 '- At this they all fell a tittering in so rumbust- 
 shus a way, particular Prodgers, that Sir Allen, 
 who looked as if he could eat 'em all without 
 salt— only fortinately looks don't kill — had no- 
 thing for it but to stick his hand upon his hip, 
 fling back his head, and strut into the dining- 
 room. But the servants says, to see Fairlop's 
 face and manner, as he thrust at Sir Allen, was 
 worth all the stage plays as ever was acted, he 
 being as cool as any flagon of hippocras he ever 
 took out of a fountain." 
 
 " Oh I that be brave — that be good ; well done, 
 Master Fairlop," roared Noah Pump, rubbing 
 his hands and jumping with delight ; while even 
 the decerns Jessop — though he had heard the 
 story a dozen times before — so cordially detested 
 Sir Allen Broderick, that " in his heart of
 
 100 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 hearts," lie always rejoiced at any of his discom- 
 fitures — past, present, or likely to be, and so 
 could not refrain from an appreciative chuckle. 
 But at this juncture their mirth was most un- 
 seasonably interrupted by a perfect hurricane of 
 female voices, pitched in alto, proceeding from 
 the kitchen, a large apartment not underground, 
 but on the opposite side to the dining-room, 
 looking on the Mall, and entered by one of four 
 oak doors, in the large square entrance hall. 
 
 '' May I never drain another cup of canary, if 
 that she devil Butson is not at it again, in one 
 of her tantrums," said Launcelot; ^'for mercy's 
 sake, go and threaten her with the kucking 
 stool,* Master Jessop, afore Madam comes 
 home. They'll fright the quality up stairs, for 
 Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn, and Mr. Locke, are sitting 
 with Mistress Dorothy." 
 
 " I'm off," cried Noah Pump, stopping his 
 ears, " for, as Master Butler says, in his fine new 
 book, where he do pepper the Roundheads so 
 nicely — 
 
 * He that figlits and runs away, 
 May live to figlit another day j 
 But he who is in battle slain, 
 Can never rise to fight again.' 
 
 So let me have an account of the killed and 
 
 * A seat placed in the middle of a pond, where Scolds were 
 ducked.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 101 
 
 wounded to-morrow, LaiiQcelot ; and I hope as 
 you won't be neither one nor t'other." 
 
 '^ Xo — no, ril to the pantry, Noah ; safe bind, 
 safe find." 
 
 Jessop hurried to the scene of action ; hastily 
 opened the door, and as hastily closed it after 
 him, and flinging up both his hands, in the atti- 
 tude of a prelate about to bless, or to anathema- 
 tise a congregation, enunciated authoritatively, 
 three times the word "• Hush !" but to command 
 is one thing — to be obeyed another; and as 
 Jessop had arrived just at the height of the fray, 
 when the noise and confusion were at their acme, 
 sonorous as his voice was, it was lost.^ like the 
 murmur of summer air in the loud din of this 
 raging storm, and as the belligerents were all 
 speaking, or rather screaming together, ears 
 were for the time being, a most useless append- 
 age ; therefore, the scandalized Jessop was fain 
 to reconnoitre with his eyes only, as well as he 
 could see, athwart a dense smoke, which, how- 
 ever, was not that of gunpowder, but of sea 
 coal, which had been most unwarrantably in- 
 vaded by a deluge of boiling water, which, after 
 quenching its rival element, was running over 
 the floor like a stream of black lava, that the two 
 scullions, Alice and Marjory, like twin Mrs. Par- 
 tington's (limited), were trying to bail out with 
 their mops. In the midst of this Stygian flood
 
 102 Cluriihtr Chase. 1670. 
 
 stood Bridget Butson, lier face rivalliDg the fire 
 before its extinction, her cap all but off, her hair, 
 as if from sheer fright, escaping on all sides, her 
 ponderous bust upheaving like the throes of an 
 earthquake, one ruddy arm akimbo, the other 
 like a colossal statue of Bellona, grasping a spit 
 which ran through a haunch of venison, that 
 might, without much imagination, have been 
 taken for a dividend of a recently speared enemy. 
 While the forces, being equally divided, opposite 
 stood her opposite in every sense of the term — 
 Rachel Ruffle, long, spare, of the thrccnd paper 
 type in figure, dressed in rich, soft, glossy black 
 silk, the tight sleeves ceasing at the elbows, 
 where a ruffle of plain, clear lawn relieved them, 
 while over her very flat chest was always pinned 
 a tippet of snowy lawn, spotless as her own re- 
 putation. Her dark hair was combed back from 
 her forehead in a roll, as it was worn both by 
 men and women in James the First's time, and 
 as may be seen in the early portraits of Dr. 
 Donne; her eyes were of dark hazel, perhaps 
 more stern than mild -in their expression; her 
 features regular, her complexion pale, without 
 being in the least sickly, and the expression of 
 her countenance of that subdued martyr tone 
 that may be called provokingly placid ; and, in- 
 deed, it was a true index of her character, for she 
 was never out of temper, so far as words or
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 103 
 
 brusque movements indicate that unseemly state , 
 but she had pre-eminently that elixir of prudence 
 which consists in restraining our own temper, 
 only to compel our adversaries into losing theirs, 
 for, as it is quite clear, that in all feuds temper 
 (which is moral blood) must be lost on one side 
 or the other, the perfection of strategy is to take 
 care the loss is not on our own side. Now, Rachel 
 Ruffle was perfect mistress of this art ; she never 
 raised her voice, much less her hands; so, ac- 
 cording to Demosthenes, she was not eloquent, 
 for she never used action^ but according to Cicero, 
 she was pre-eminently so, for she never spoke 
 without achieving the object she had in view. 
 She could, it is true, use very deadly weapons, 
 but then, like the spiked and poisoned iron hand 
 of the Inquisition, they were always sheathed in 
 velvet ; moreover, she always began with a sort 
 of self-abnegating disclaimer, the formula of 
 which was, " I may be wrong," or, ^' Perhaps its 
 very wrong of me," but — and now she stood in 
 the ''^ Patience on a monument pose," her hands 
 not indeed placidly crossed as usual, for in her 
 arms she held a fat black and tan turnspit dog, 
 who was trembling with a low plaintive moan, 
 for the poor animal, who had not displayed as 
 much alacrity as Bridget Butson thought he 
 ought to get into his wheel, had been the first
 
 104 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 literally to get into hot water, and had one of his 
 hind paws dreadfully scalded. 
 
 The cause of the fray had been Mrs. Ruffle's 
 presuming to come into the kitchen to look after 
 the baking of some marchepane* and some tansey 
 maids of honour she had made, and could alone 
 make in the perfection that her mistress required. 
 Having come at an ino]3portune moment, when 
 Pridget Butson was straining every nerve to spit 
 the haunch of venison that was to be roasted for 
 supper, and when she was at the same time call- 
 ing, " Clove, Clove, Clove," the truant turnspit, 
 all over the kitchen, she, instead of r. .ponding 
 in a similar tone to Mrs. Ruffle's civil question 
 of ^' How are the maids of honour and the 
 marchepane getting on, Bridget ?" answered in 
 a fary — 
 
 " Souse the maids of honour, and you to !" 
 Now the " act against profane swearing " 
 being just then in full force, with sundry pains 
 and penalties attached to it, Bridget, like all 
 geniuses being a person of infinite resource, had 
 compounded with the devil, and adopted this 
 word souse as a compromise for stronger expli- 
 catives, and indemnified herself for the sacrifice, 
 by using it as often as possible. So when Euffle 
 had inquired touching the progress of her own 
 
 * Marchepain, a tliin, sweet, almond cake or wafer.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 105 
 
 handiwork, the irate Bridget had, with a stamp 
 of her foot and a clenched fist, vociferated, 
 " Souse the maids of honour and you too I" and 
 suiting the action to the word, gave a vigorous 
 kick to a large kettle of boiling water, which set 
 the fire hissing and smoking, the maids scream- 
 ing, and also brought the truant Clove to the 
 rescue, who got scalded for his pains, and then 
 contributed his quota to the concert by a shrill 
 howl, till he ran for refuge into Mrs. Ruffle's 
 arms, who ordered one of the scullions to scrape 
 a raw potatoe, which she put into a piece of old 
 linen, and bound up his poor paw. Xow though 
 Jessop's voice could not possibly be heard in this 
 uproar, still his presence (of which even Bridget 
 Butson stood a little in awe, he being Madame 
 Neville's prime minister) caused a sudden lull in 
 the storm, when he demanded — 
 
 '^ In the name of wonder, what is all this dis- 
 graceful rumpus about ?" 
 
 Bridget was silent for less than half a second, 
 only to take sufficient time to pitch her voice in 
 a lower and more conquered key, and then replied, 
 pointing the finger of scorn at Mrs Ruffle — 
 
 ^' Aye, ask them as caused it all ; I'm that 
 flustered, and that frighted, and that upset, and 
 all my supper Lord knows where, that I ain't got 
 no nerves for gossiping and tittle-tattle, like 
 some people.*' 
 
 F 5
 
 106 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 And here she darted another look like a lard- 
 ing pin at Rachel, who said in her mildest voice, 
 turning to Jessop — 
 
 '' You know, Master Jessop, how particular 
 madam is about the sweets, which she trusts en- 
 tirely to me. I had made a batch of marchepane 
 and of tansey maids of honour, the best I think 
 I ever made; I merely asked Butson how they 
 were getting on in the oven, when she flies into 
 one of her sinful passions, kicks down the kettle, 
 scalds poor dear Clove, fills the oven, and washes 
 all my beautiful maids of honour out of their 
 coffins.'^* 
 
 '' Souse you ! Pity but what you was in your 
 coffin too, and then there'd be peace in Israel, as 
 the scripters says." 
 
 '' Oh ! Bridget Butson, perhaps it is very wrong 
 of me to say so ; but you, being a native of Sand- 
 wich, might take warning, and remember it's not 
 so many years ago since your evil-tongued towns- 
 woman, Marjory Mossop, was sentenced to carry 
 the mortart through the town hanging at the end 
 of an old broom across her shoulder, with the 
 bellman going before her ringing his clapper, and 
 telling the people that was what was done to her 
 for abusing Mrs. Mayoress, and saying that she 
 
 * The little white paper cases or boxes that rammikins, fondns, 
 or small sponge cakes are baked in, were at that time, and in all 
 old cookery books, called '* coffins," 
 
 t A wooden basket.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 107 
 
 did net care for her the value of a raspberry 
 tart !'^ 
 
 At this local anecdote, Bridget placed lance in 
 rest — that is, she put the spit standing against 
 the wall, and with both arms now a-kimbo, made 
 three measured strides across the floor, till she 
 arrived within three inches of the placid Rachel, 
 who valiantly stood her ground, despite the ap- 
 proaching danger. 
 
 " What I've got to say, and what you^U please 
 to remember, Mrs, Prim, is this. Mrs. Mayoress 
 might have been worth a raspberry tart ; but you, 
 I don't care for you — no, not the pip of a rasp- 
 berry. So, now the sooner you take your brooms 
 and buckets, and your raspberry tarts out of my 
 kitchen, the better ; and there's sixpence for you 
 to pay the bellman for going before you the next 
 time you takes a walk. And if so be as you dies of 
 the pip, like Mrs. Dorothy's canary, I hope when 
 you goes farther you won't fare worse ; but I'm 
 dubious on that score." 
 
 " Perhaps it's very wrong of me, but I'm a 
 person of no curiosity about other people's affairs, 
 and from year's end to year's end never think of 
 looking at the address of any letter or parcel that 
 comes to the house. I may be mistaken — and I 
 hope I am — but, if ever I did see a person legibly 
 directed to the author of all evil, that person is 
 YOTJ, Bridget Butson," said Ruffle, hurling this
 
 108 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 Parthian dart as she sailed majestically out of 
 the kitchen, carrying Clove with her. Now, 
 though Jessop was honest as the day, and 
 straight-forward as a sped arrow, still, like all 
 the superior sex, he was a bit of a moral coward, 
 and consequently in all domestic jars never ven-- 
 turing upon a decided course of adhesion to one 
 side or the other of the opposing factions ; but 
 ever temporising more especially in favour of the 
 aggressor. So gently taking Rachel by the back 
 of the arm, before she had reached the door, he 
 said, " Come, come, Mrs. Ruffle, it's only a little 
 after four, so you'll have time to make some more 
 maids of honour." 
 
 " Time ! Master Jessop. Time alone cannot 
 make, though, as we have just seen, it may mar 
 maids of honour. And 1 don't suppose, if I was 
 to give the Crown jewels for it, I could get 
 another quart of cream at this hour in London." 
 
 And so saying, she closed the door after her, 
 with a mild and subdued imitation of a bang ; 
 while Bridget, being thus left mistress of the 
 situation, screamed after her — 
 
 "■ I say. Madam Starch, you be the last new- 
 fashioned kennel I suppose, as you've got the 
 black dog on your back as well as in your arms ; 
 but I'm not a going to do turnspit's work for no 
 such trumpery, I can tell you." 
 
 *^ At all events, I hope you are going to have
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 109 
 
 this disgraceful mess cleaned up before Madam 
 comes home and sees it." 
 
 " Tilly VaUey ! TiUy Valley ! Master Jessop, 
 you don't expect a kitchen at all hours of the day 
 and night to be like what you calls Puck's 
 Parlour,* do you ?" 
 
 " And why not ? At any rate what I do ex- 
 pect is that you'll make Marjery set it in order 
 directly, before all those beautifully bright pewter 
 plates and dishes are quite tarnished with this 
 horrible smoke." 
 
 " Lack a daisy," rejoined the somewhat cooled 
 down Bridget, resuming the spit, and again 
 thrusting away at the haunch of venison, as the 
 horrible phantasmagoria of madam's having 
 literally no supper flitted before her. '^ Lack a 
 daisy ; there hain't no use in asking she to do a 
 hand's turn ; she be one of your born dawdles, 
 made, as I always tells her, out of wet blotting 
 paper, who passes their time in bolting of doors 
 with biled carrots, and then wonders how the 
 plague people had got in, when they had fastened 
 up the door ; people, my belief is, as was made 
 in a hurry, scrambled up anyhow, and put off with 
 
 * In DevonsHre, where, to this day, the people devoutly believe 
 in fairies it is a common expression to say of any apartment 
 more than usually neat or elegant, " Why, this is Puck's 
 Parlour !" thereby meaning to imply that it had been arranged 
 by the fairies. And Jessop being a Devonshire man, often used 
 the expression.
 
 110 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 two left hands, all thumbs, and never a finger 
 amongst 'em." 
 
 Here a knock was heard at the hall door. 
 '^Madam's knock, by all that's contrairy! 
 Run— fly, and Alice, some faggots quick, to re- 
 kindle the fire ; but if she should come in say it 
 was a jackdaw as got down the chimbley, over- 
 turned the kittle, and made the devil to pay, and 
 nothing to pay him with; but for pity's sake, 
 good Master Jessop, donH let her come in here. 
 Tell her there are visitors — quality, that have 
 been waiting her return no end of time." 
 
 " Ah ! well," said Jessop, shaking his head as 
 he adjusted his hands, and pulled down his cuffs 
 preparatory to answering the door, '' I'll do what 
 I can ; but I hope this will be a warning to you 
 never to be guilty of the like again." 
 
 And no sooner had he closed the kitchen door 
 than Bridget, spit in hand, flew to it and bolted 
 it — not with a boiled carrot. 
 
 "To-day is post day,* any letters, Jessop?" 
 inquired the mistress of the house on entering. 
 
 " No, madam ; but Sir James Drummond has 
 sent a box of grouse from Hawthornden — came in 
 prime order, with ice under the heather, and there 
 is a real curiosity with the grouse; at least, I never 
 saw one before — a cream-coloured moor-hen." 
 
 * At that time the general post came in but twice a week, 
 and there was no exclusive metropolitan post.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. Ill 
 
 *' Dear me, what a pretty bird. I tell you 
 what, Jessop, he's fond of everything rare, so 
 send it over to Master Hartsfoot with my kind 
 regards." 
 
 '' Very good, madam, it shall go directly ; 
 Master Hartsfoot is upstairs with Mistress Doro- 
 thy, likewise Mr. and Madam Evelyn, and Mr. 
 Locke." 
 
 " Did Mrs. Evelyn walk ?" 
 
 " No, madam, their coach is on the Mall." 
 
 " Oh ! well, then, have a couple of brace of 
 grouse put into it, and I'll just go and tell But- 
 son to have the rest potted." 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, but if you will allow me 
 I'll tell her, for Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn have been 
 waiting a long time, and Mrs. Dorothy, I know, 
 wishes to ask your permission about going to 
 some public jolace with Master Hartsfoot," said 
 that intrepid Leonodas Jessop, as he valiantly 
 defended the pass of the Butson Thermopylae 
 when his mistress had advanced two steps to- 
 wards the culinary battle field. 
 
 '' Very well, then, that will do," acquiesced the 
 lady, as she ascended the stairs, and Jessop pre- 
 ceded her, not only as in duty bound to open the 
 drawing-room door for her, but also to convey to 
 the lower regions the glad tidings that she really 
 was safely arrived, and likely to remain there 
 with her guests.
 
 112 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BEAR AND FORBEAR. 
 
 RS. :N'EyiLLE'S greeting of and 
 apologies to her visitors over, Doro- 
 thy rose from her large easy chair 
 near the window, and with an 
 abandon and familiarity very unusual with well 
 brought up young ladies of that period, who not 
 only addressed their mothers as " madam/' but 
 preluded all their sayings and doings, goings and 
 comings, with a low courtesy, threw her arms 
 round her mother's neck, and gently slapping her 
 cheek in a very poor feeble imitation of chiding, 
 said — 
 
 " You naughty mamma, where have you been 
 all this time without asking my leave, or even 
 telling me where you were going ?" 
 
 " Oh !" replied the happy mother, covering her 
 smiling face in pretended horror with her hands, 
 ^' I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn will be quite 
 shocked at seeing and hearing such a spoiled 
 girl, are you not ?" she added, appealing to them,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 113 
 
 as she drew a cliair next Mrs. Evelyn, and seated 
 herself. 
 
 " l^ot a bit of it," said Mr. Evelyn, " we are 
 just fresh from the kingdom of spoilt girls and 
 autocratic only daughters — the Hotel Carnivalet." 
 
 " Oh I do tell me about Madame de Sevigne 
 and Madame de Grignon. Is Madame de Sevigne 
 as charming as every one says, and as her letters 
 are ? one or two of which the Comte de Gram- 
 mont showed me ; and is Mme. de Grignon so 
 beautiful as report makes her out?" 
 
 "" Well, to answer your questions categorically, 
 Mme. Sevigne is quite as charming as every one 
 says, and even more charming than her letters — 
 quant a la Grignon,'" dindi^iQiQ Mr. Evelyn shrugged 
 his shoulders in a way which showed he had 
 benefited by his frequent trips to Paris, as he 
 gave a furtive look at Dorothy, '' I confess I 
 prefer your spoils to Mme. de Sevigne^s." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha I my spoils. I shan't forget 
 that ; but that no doubt is on the score of old 
 friendship, but I'm sure Mr. Locke must be 
 scandalised at my spoils.''^ 
 
 " Not a bit of it, madam ; on the contrary I 
 am quite delighted with it — or I suppose I must 
 say them. That is our great national sovereign 
 want, that both in our systems and in our no 
 systems of education we leave the affections 
 totally uncultivated. We drive our boys early
 
 114 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 from home to public schools and colleges, and 
 suppress our girls at a stated freezing point at 
 home, thus early chilling and hardening their 
 ductile and malleable y-^ oral nature, the onli/ solid 
 and sure foundation for anything really great, 
 because really good. The greater and more highly 
 cultivated the intellect without this broad, solid, 
 moral foundation, the more faulty and contempt- 
 ible I hold the human being. A flagrant instance 
 in illustration of this axiom, we have had very 
 near our own times, in my Lord Verulum. 
 Nothing could be well greater, or more cultivated 
 than the intellect ; nothing lower or meaner than 
 the moral. In short, this supremacy of the intel- 
 lectual without a moral equipoise is in ethics what 
 the Auram Fulminans is in chemistry, which latter 
 consists in placing a grain of gold in a silver 
 spoon, which grain of gold, when fired, gives an 
 impetus to the force of a musket shot, and drills 
 a hole through that silver downwards.^'' 
 
 ^^ Oh ! how true that is," said Mr. Evelyn, "as 
 you have illustrated it by my Lord Bacon, it was 
 that sordid worldly leaven which caused him to 
 betray with such unutterable baseness his friend 
 and patron Essex, and not only to betray, but to 
 sharpen on the accursed whetstone of his intel- 
 lect every weapon for his destruction. I have, I 
 confess^ great contempt for those men who, as it 
 is called, get on in the world^ for it requires such
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 115 
 
 a qiiadrniDed form of mind to do so. Such a 
 crawling under, or leaping over, every barrier 
 whicli the more upright and conscientious will 
 not franchise. I would rather ten thousand times 
 have had my head on the block with noble Walter 
 Raleigh, than safe under the wig of the scound- 
 relly Sir Edward Coke who sent him there. But, 
 indeed, it often strikes me that the decline and 
 fall of England must ultimately be caused by the 
 underminding dry rot of selfishness and false 
 pretences, that is sapping her social and political 
 foundation." 
 
 " Then are you," said Oliver Hartsfoot, " of 
 Harrington's opinion, who predicts in his 
 * Oceana,' that France will eventually be the 
 country that is the mistress of the world ?" 
 
 " I should not at all wonder," replied Evelyn, 
 " that it were so. The French have a genius of 
 heart that we never had, and are never likely to 
 have ; for, though the most selfish and self-seek- 
 ing people under the sun, we have no individu- 
 ality ; consequently no originality, being always 
 like the Sheep of Panurge, for treading carefully 
 in ready-made footprints. The French have one 
 term which sufficiently expresses the moral 
 calibre of the people — Politesse du Coeur. Now, 
 we have neither the expression, nor the thing it 
 expresses ; and how should we ? Consideration 
 for others forms no part of our training ; even if
 
 116 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 we do a service, we must always do it in our own 
 way, without any reference to the feelings — or 
 grant it — to the prejudices of those we pretend 
 to serve. On the contrary, if they have a sore 
 place, we are sure clumsily to probe and make it 
 sorer. We make a tremendous parade, too, of 
 our services, letting the poor wretches to be 
 served know every step we have taken as we take 
 it, to duly impress upon them the great trouble 
 they have given us ; and, if we ultimately fail, 
 why, then, we rather owe them a grudge for our 
 own wounded pride, without one compassionate 
 thought for their raised hopes so cruelly crushed. 
 Now, a French person puts all the delicacy in the 
 world into conferring a favour, even to reversing 
 the relative positions, and making the obliged 
 appear the obligor, and begin by throwing them- 
 selves into the case of the person they attempt 
 to serve, so as to feel from their point of view, 
 and so studiously avoid wounding as they go. 
 Moreover, so far from a flourish of trumpets, an- 
 nouncing each move, they say nothing, however 
 arduous their endeavours may be, till they have 
 succeeded, and then make nothing of all the pre- 
 liminary hardships ; and if they fail, why, the 
 odds are, they will remain silent, rather than 
 accept thanks for fruitless intentions. But all 
 this comes from the early habit of substituting 
 others for self. French children are, from the
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 117 
 
 first, taught to be as unselfish, and as well bred, 
 not only to their parents, but to their brothers 
 and sisters, tutors, governesses, and servants, as 
 if they were always at Court, and in the pre- 
 sence ; consequently, in France, instead of seeing 
 families and their incomes split up into infini- 
 tesimal fractions, you see three generations often 
 living lovingly, happily, and with perfect per- 
 sonal freedom, too, under the same roof; the 
 gallant young Musquetaire, or Talons rouge, quite 
 as galard and as aux petits soins to his old grand- 
 mother, mother, or sisters, as he would be to the 
 most charming riiarqaise at Versailles ; and the 
 budding, blushing young girl, quite as will- 
 ing to leave her reveries, or her broderie, to play 
 at chess, ot /aire Vaimable to le Grand Pere. 
 Whereas with us, simply from our selfishness 
 and om- ill-breeding, not only are we in great 
 haste to rid our homes of our sons and daugh- 
 ters, but in other relationships, seldom, as we say, 
 can we put up our horses together. I have 
 known young women become childless widows, 
 with a mother still living, or a sister, as the case 
 may be, without either of their means being 
 large, and if wonder is expressed that they do 
 not live with their mother or sister, the answer 
 invariably is — ' Oh ! my mother and I, or 
 my sister and I, cannot hit it ofi",' which
 
 118 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 means in plain English, we are both so 
 selfish and so ill-bred, that we should 
 eternally be interfering with and annoying 
 each other, and the house would be hell upon 
 earth. This politesse du coeur practically extends 
 through all classes, from the highest to the lowest. 
 For instance, ask a working man in France the 
 way to a place, not only does he not laugh at the 
 foreigner's bad French, but will leave his work 
 and go a mile, aye ! or more, to shew the stranger 
 his, or her way ; and, if offered pecuniary remu- 
 neration for his trouble, would colour with really 
 hurt feeling and say, ' Comment done. Monsieur ; 
 pour si peu de chose ?' Whereas, ask one of the 
 same class in England a similar service, and the 
 odds are, he would either make you some rude, 
 disoblig^ing answer, or think it a good joke to 
 send you in a totally wrong direction ; or, at least, 
 if he did show you the way, would think he never 
 could be sufficiently remunerated for his mighty 
 services ; but if a poor foreigner required them, 
 there is no amount of ridicule that would not be 
 added to the hoax of directing him wrongly. 
 There is another thing, too, in England, which 
 militates against all cordiality and sincerity, our 
 innately vulgar straining always to be — no, to 
 appear — something greater and of more impor- 
 tance than we are — a case in point yesterday. I
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 119 
 
 met Mr. Pepys, and condoled with him upon the 
 death of his uncle Robert, adding, that at the 
 same time, I hoped he had derived some pecuniary 
 benefit from it. Here are his words. ' Why, to 
 tell you the truth,' says he, ' he did leave me 
 nothing. But to put a value on myself, I do tell 
 people that he have left me £200 a year, besides 
 ready money and land.' Now, poor Pepys knew 
 well the vulgar Mammon market for which he 
 was catering, and accordingly marked himself 
 with the only figure that would have any value. 
 In France he would have been saved from any 
 such mortgage upon his veracity, or his self- 
 respect — for people would have valued him, 
 Samuel Pepys for any good qualities" he might 
 possess — such for instance as his real, hard work- 
 ing industry, and his honest zeal in preventing 
 (so far as he can), the king being robbed, while 
 all the other harpies of courtiers are preying on 
 him night and day. And if French society did give 
 his uncle Robertas money bags a thought, it would 
 be merely to regret the poor man had got none of 
 them, and to shew him redoubled kindness and 
 attention in order to heal his disappointment." 
 
 '^ Too true," said Mr. Locke, '' even my Lord 
 Clarendon was animadverting to me the other 
 day on the increasing degeneration of our man- 
 ners at all points. He said, when he was a boy.
 
 120 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 no one ever tliouglit of keeping their liat on"^ 
 (except at dinner), in the presence of anyone 
 greater, or anyone older than themselves." 
 
 "That might have its absurd side, too. For 
 instance, fancy your not keeping yonr hat on in 
 my presence because I happen to be ten years 
 older than you, my only pre-eminence," said Mr. 
 Evelyn, bowing to Locke. 
 
 " Nay — nay, my good sir," laughed the philo- 
 sopher, " I shall denounce you as a papist if you 
 fling your incense at me in this way, and will 
 subpoena Mr. Hartsfoot as a witness against you 
 — for does he not deserve it?" 
 
 '' Only so far," said Oliver, '' as that with those 
 who are entered for the race of immortality, a 
 decade or two certainly don't count ; but I have 
 another separate indictmeut against Mr. Evelyn." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know what it is," cried Dorothy, 
 '' and offer myself as evidence for the prosecu- 
 tion." 
 
 " Then without judge or jury, I say Lord have 
 mercy upon me, for whatever you lend your coun- 
 tenance to, Mrs. Dorothy, must succeed from 
 \h.Q prima facie evidence." 
 
 ^'Well, prisoner at the bar," resumed Oliver 
 Hartsfoot, '•' you are accused of having written 
 
 * It was the custom at that time, and had been for centuries, 
 for men always to dine in their hats ; no doubt on account of the 
 large cold halls in which they dined.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 121 
 
 two excellent plays, and yet, most unwarrantably 
 and inexcusably, keeping them under lock and 
 key from his Majesty and his Majesty's liege 
 subjects." 
 
 '' Who in the name of wonder could have told 
 you that ?" 
 
 " Well, one who fancied himself a great judge 
 of the English poets ,'^ from Chaucer down to 
 Waller, and who stoutly maintained that Dryden 
 is a greater poet than Milton." 
 
 *'Tush!" said Mr. Evelyn; ^^ where there is 
 no similitude there can be no comparison. 
 Dryden is Praxiteles ; Milton Michael Angelo. f 
 But who can the fellow be ?" 
 
 ^^ A man of numbers himself, and therefore 
 should be a judge of others, our late friend, 
 poor Edward Cocker, J when I last saw him 
 at the house that used to be the Young Men's 
 Club in Cromwell's time." 
 
 " Tut, tut ; mere trifles, only fit for the closet, 
 
 * Not only of the British poets, about whom he was an en- 
 thusiast, but likewise of all men of letters. He always swore 
 " By the four Johns;'' to wit, JoHr^ Dryden, John Milton, 
 John Locke, and John Evelyn. By the four Johns I won't, or 
 by the four Johns I will, was his invariable mode of asseveration. 
 
 t To show what contemporary judgment was respecting poets 
 and poetry, at Cowley's death the then Bishop of Winchester — 
 Dr. George Morley— and Dr. Bates, one of his brother divines, 
 bewailed him (Cowley) as " England's greatest Poet, and as good 
 a Man;" the latter part of the eulogium being better deserved, 
 may account for the former part, for moral worth will tell at the 
 last. Witness Cowley's own summing up of his fellow poet, 
 Crashaw — 
 
 *' His faith was wrong; but, oh ! his life was right." 
 
 X The Arithmetician. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 and never intended for daylight, still less for 
 lamplight."^ When you come to see me I'll show 
 you something much better worth your attention; 
 I mean my wife's paintings, which are really ad- 
 mirable." 
 
 " Of that I have no doubt," said Hartsfoot ; 
 ^^ mais Vun tC empecke pas Vautre^ 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Evelyn, your eyes are partial, and 
 others would look upon my poor attempts with 
 more critical impartiality.'^ 
 
 "Nay, my dear; you know Mignard's opinion 
 of them in Paris, and also what Lely told you 
 here, and you will allow them not only to be 
 competent, but also impartial judges." 
 
 " Well, my dear Mrs. Evelyn," laughed Mrs. 
 Neville, " I really think husbands are not only 
 impartial, but the most impartial of all judges 
 where their wives'' talents, virtues, or beauty are 
 concerned ; overrating, decidedly not being what 
 they are prone to, and you must be quite aware 
 that your talent for painting amounts to 
 genius." 
 
 Mrs. Evelyn smiled and shook her head in 
 negation, while Mr. Evelyn nodded his assent- 
 ingly. 
 
 * Pepys said of these plays : " They are very well, but by no 
 means such great things as Mr. Evelyn do conceit," But then to 
 be sure that great theatrical critic, Mr. Pepys, also opined that 
 *' Othello" was "a wean thing," in comparison of "The 
 Adventures of Five Hours." So, coeteris paribvs, giving Mr, 
 Evelyn the benefit of that decision, perhaps his plays were very 
 good.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 123 
 
 '* Mama mia, you have not yet given an ac- 
 count of your wanderings, and tlie unwarrantable 
 time you stay'd out without leave," said Dorothy. 
 " I hope you did not go and see that sensitive 
 being, Mr. Warcupp, the poor wretch who de- 
 clares that if by accident a rose touches him (the 
 rose, not the thorn, mind) his skin immediately 
 blisters !" 
 
 " Who did you say this sapient Sybarite was?" 
 asked Mr. Locke. 
 
 - *^ A Mr. Warcupp; but the best of the joke is, 
 that the other day at dinner at the Duke of 
 Albemarle's, where the conversation turned on 
 extraordinary antipathies, and of course the old 
 story of Erasmus fainting at the sight of fish 
 was raked up ; whereupon the rose-hater, War- 
 cupp, not only announced his unfortunate pecu- 
 liarity, but swore to it ; and as silence is said to 
 give consent, every one 7ms silent from astonish- 
 ment till the dessert came, when, the fruit being 
 decorated with roses, the duchess took one and 
 first, at two or three difierent times, gently 
 touched Mr. Warcupp's hand; but no blisters 
 appearing she got out of patience, and then 
 scrubbed at his hand with as much goodwill asishe 
 used formerly to do at the floors ; but still, nieitker 
 by fair means nor foul, could any blister be (got to 
 appear." , v I 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Evelyns iq^i; So 
 
 G 2
 
 124 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 that hencefortli this Warcupp should have the 
 sobriquet of Cupid, as he was certainly doomed 
 to lie among the roses." 
 
 *^ It is astonishing," said Locke, " how many- 
 different phases vanity has. What is called am- 
 bition may be defined as nothing but colossal 
 vanity, that of hearing echo repeat one^s name ; 
 and this Warcupp -Cupid, or stupid, pretending 
 to such a ridiculous and incredible idiosyncracy 
 was nothing but vanity in its minimum phase, 
 to get himself talked about and wondered at for 
 the moment." 
 
 '^ Quite true," assented Mr. Evelyn, " and 
 therefore ambition, though called by the super- 
 ficial a noble passion, is anything but that, as 
 nothing that has self for its basis, and which 
 sacrifices everything to self can be noble ; on the 
 contrary, it is the worldly leaven of all meanness. 
 Women think they are drawing a trump card 
 when they marry an ambitious man, imagining 
 that his advancement in life of necessity means 
 theirs, Not so ; the thoroughly ambitious — that 
 is thoroughly selfish man — never thinks the 
 world large enough for more than one of his own 
 family, and he is that one. However well a wife 
 may do for a stepping-stone, he never allows her 
 to appear as a staff. 
 
 " I was much amused the other day at hearing 
 of a piece of our Queen's pretty broken English ;
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 125 
 
 they wanted her to ride at the muster of the 
 troops in Hyde Park the showy Arab she had 
 ridden at Greenwich a few days before, and which 
 had been taught all sorts of manege tricks and 
 caprioles ; but she would not, saying — 
 
 ** * No, no. I no like him ; he make too much 
 vanity to make all de people stare at him.' In 
 like manner, your ambitious men make too much 
 vanity, and all for the same reason as Queen 
 Katharine's Arabian, to make people stare at 
 them. So take my advice, Mrs. Dorothy, never 
 marry an ambitious man." 
 
 " I'll do better than that, Mr. Evelyn," said 
 Dorothy, blushing to her very temples, " for I'll 
 never marry any man at all. But, Mamina, 
 where have you been ? and what detained you so 
 long ?" 
 
 " Well, you little inquisitor, I first went to 
 one of your protegees, Anne Lile ; and then I got 
 hustled, and jostled, and frighted out of my wits 
 by a set of those horrid apprentices, banded to- 
 gether like a set of mad fanatics as they are, 
 tearing up the Common Prayer book, with their 
 usual cry of ^ Porridge ! Porridge ! ' "* 
 
 * The meaning of this word is fully explained in a rare con- 
 temporary tract called ' ' A Vindication of the Common Prayer 
 against the contumelious slanders of the Fanatic Party terming 
 it ' Porridge.' " An extract from this pamphlet will be found in 
 a note to Sir Walter Scott's " Woodstock," vol. 1st, p. 22, ed. 
 1834. Brother Ignatius could tell how the enlightened Lon- 
 doners flavour his porridge for him in the nineteenth century !
 
 126 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 '' Ah !" said Oliver Hartsfoot, " I fear, Mr. 
 Locke, you may write ' Letters on Toleration,' 
 but that they will long continue sealed letters to 
 men's passions, prejudices, and above all, to their 
 ignorance.'* 
 
 " Aye, the latter is the worst enemy, being 
 father to the two former, and a long progeny of 
 other stumbling blocks, and barriers, and blinds, 
 and shutters for excluding the light." 
 
 " Yet," rejoined Hartsfoot, " when we remem- 
 ber that in the physical world, five years are 
 necessary to bring one ray of light from Sirius 
 to our earth, though travelling at the rate of 
 twelve million miles in a minute, we cannot 
 wonder that moral light should at least take 
 equal time before it can penetrate the nebulae of 
 the human mind ; and as for Christianity, long 
 as its darvn has been, we can never hope to see 
 it in its meridian till all sects are abolished by 
 being merged in it,^^ 
 
 ** That is true," said Evelyn ; " more especially 
 when we remember the very foul and question- 
 able sources to which we owe our so-called re- 
 formed religion, the unbridled lust of a tyran- 
 nical King, and the equally unscrupulous 
 concupicence of an apostate Monk ; for as to the 
 errors and abuses of Popery (and what dominant 
 State Church, with a plethora of wealth, and an 
 inebriety of power, has not its errors and abuses?)
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 127 
 
 Europe was quite ripe to expose and secede from 
 them ; had Henry the Eighth never indulged in 
 the regal recreation of decapitating his wives, or 
 Martin Luther never broken his solemnly binding 
 — however erroneous — vows, and caused the Nun 
 Catherine Bora to break hers, two pieces of 
 sacrilegious perjury which we should never have 
 ceased to revile, had it not suited our sectarian 
 partisanship to coalesce with the apostates. Just 
 as in like manner, while ceaselessly inveighing 
 against the Pope's supremacy, and the unscru- 
 pulous occult dealings of the Jesuits in the sub- 
 version of all laws, human and divine, in their 
 gapping and mining labours iu families, we 
 carefully and conveniently suppress Pope Martin 
 Luther and other Protestant Divines (including 
 ' the mild Melancthon's') dispensation to Philip 
 Landgrave of Hesse, who had married Catherine 
 of Saxony to enable, that is to authorise! the Land- 
 grave to commit bigamy, by marrying his mistress, 
 Margarite de Staal. The staunch Protestant 
 Landgrave's piety being something a la Henri 
 Huite, of such a profound and peculiar kind, that 
 on his recovery from a severe illness, he had 
 scruples about his liaison with this lady, and so 
 resolved, as it has been the world old custom of 
 men to do, to submerge one sin by a greater ; 
 and in order to obtain his object, memorialised
 
 128 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 his protege Luther, that his mistress might re- 
 ceive the public honours of his lawful wife — 
 which precious document he fortified with the 
 authority of the Old Testament, and in it, as a 
 quid pro quo, made such liberal promises, not 
 only of continued, but increased patronage of 
 Luther, and the Protestant divines, that they, 
 headed by Luther and Melancthon, instantly held 
 a conclave to consider the proposition ; and, after 
 first unanimously deciding what a terrible thing- 
 it would be for them to lose the powerful protec- 
 tion of such a patron, had their moral vision so 
 cleared by this view, that they lost no time in 
 unhesitatingly adopting that of the Landgrave ; 
 and so, without keeping him in unnecessary 
 suspense, soon famished him with the requisite 
 ' DisPEis^sATiox I' The document is, of course, 
 far too voluminous to quote in extenso ; but one 
 paragraph of it is too material to my argument 
 to be omitted ; it is as follows. After innumer- 
 able oih.QT fiats in favour of the royal Bigamarian, 
 it says — ' We ought not to care greatly for what 
 the world will say, provided our own conscience 
 is clear : Nee carandi aliornm sermones, si recte 
 cum conscientid agatur. It is thus that we approve 
 of the proceeding in question, though only in the 
 circumstances we have just indicated — for the 
 Gospel has neither recalled nor forbidden whal
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 129 
 
 the Law of Moses permitted with regard to mar- 
 riage.'* As for the poor heart-broken Land- 
 gravine, in vain she appealed to the sensual 
 bibolous Protestant Pope, not to let her be put 
 in subjection to her husband's mistress, in this 
 public, authorised, and exceptionally offensive 
 manner. His only and his reiterated reply 
 was, ^ It is a wife's duty to be convenient and 
 to make all things concenient to her husband^ so I 
 hope you will show every consideration and at- 
 tention to your colleague! — the new Landgravine.' 
 Now, I appeal to you, and to the whole world, 
 if the college of Jesuits, and all the Popes who- 
 ever wore the Tiara, ever obtruded their and the 
 churches infallibility^ in a way at all approaching 
 to this ^ Dispensation ' of Martin Luther and the 
 
 * It has been said tliat ' ' the world knows nothing of its greatest 
 men." Perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say it thinks little 
 of its greatest men, and finds it convenient to ignore, or to forget 
 them ; the desperate singleness of purpose, and incorruptible 
 sincerity of all real greatness being to all wordliness, and its 
 concomitant pliant corrnption, the greatest and most impractic- 
 able of all impediments and stumbling-blocks, for which reason 
 the sensual and subservient Luther has come down to posterity as 
 a model Eeformer ! while the really holy, self-abnegating apostolic 
 Savonabola, who, like another Elijah before Ahab, constrained 
 Charles YIII. to quit and spare Florence from the same havoc 
 that had ravaged Milan, is comparatively unknown. But then 
 to be sure he broke no vows in order to marry a Xun. a proceed- 
 ing which better tallied with, and pandered to earthly corruption. 
 And l\e told his contemporaries in the Catholic church that, by 
 their neglect of the Scriptures, and their multiplicity of cere- 
 monies, " they had neglected and abandoned Christ, and gone 
 back to Moses." While Luther, ever sensuous and self-seeHng, 
 was wiser in his generation, and in giving the Landgravine of 
 Hesse a dispensation to commit bigamy, approved of, and coun- 
 selled his neglect of Christ, and going back to Moses. But then 
 ^a^K^wxrol(x tucw a noble martyr, while Luthee was only an 
 apostate monk. 
 
 G 5
 
 130 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 Protestant divines ? And see how much wiser, in 
 his generation, the Protestant Pope was than the 
 Roman Pontiff under similar embarrassing cir- 
 cumstances — for it was the latter's steadily and 
 conscientiously refusing to grant a like ' Dispen- 
 sation ' which made our pious monarch Henry 
 the Eighth throw off his supremacy, and gave us 
 our ' glorious reformation !' which still strongly 
 needs more reformation. As for Calvin, I think 
 the man and his whole career so infamous, that I 
 always feel as if I wanted to rinse my mouth after 
 polluting it with his name." 
 
 " Truly," said Locke, " Butler has summed up 
 the whole question in a couplet, where he says 
 men — 
 
 ' CoTupound for sins tbey are inclined to. 
 By ing those they have no mind to.* 
 
 I don't at all wonder at Casanove, the King's 
 cook, being puzzled by our tangled web of secrets, 
 and exclaiming, ^ Ciel I quel Pays — deux cents 
 religions ! que deux sauces /' By-the-bye, the 
 mention of Casanove naturally reminds me of 
 Whitehall. Have you heard Rochester's last ?" 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Neville, " one never hears 
 the last of my Lord Rochester." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Very true; but here is his 
 last, and by no means his least. It seems that 
 the Duchess of York had, last night, as usual, all 
 sorts of games, among others ^des petitsjeuxJ^ I
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 131 
 
 don't vouch for their being exactly j^'^^^^ innocents. 
 Among others, they were to say, in pairs, what 
 they would like to be. Lady Castlemaine said, 
 pointing to a very magnificent Chinese vase, 
 given to the Duke in Holland, ' I'd like to be 
 that vase.' '• And I,' said Sir Allen Broderick, 
 who was her pair on the occasion, ^ would like 
 to be a horse.' 'Tush!' said Kochester, in a 
 stage whisper to young Killegrew, ^ a distinction 
 without a difference — for the lady would still only 
 be a rare jade^ and Sir Allen would continue a 
 screw: At which the King laughed louder than 
 anyone ; but the jade and the screw not at all. 
 
 " I wonder," said Oliver Hartsfoot, " consider- 
 ing poor Lady Broderick's unforgotten repartee, 
 that Sir Allen is not rather shy of bringing horses 
 on the tapis." 
 
 '' What was that ?" asked Mr. Locke ; " I don't 
 remember ever having heard it." 
 
 ^' Why, Sir Allen, for a wonder, had once given 
 his wife a very beautiful Andalusian mare, of 
 which she was excessively fond, and one day, as 
 they were with a large party going out hunting, 
 and he having said something to her which she 
 did not hear, from being in the act of patting 
 the mare's neck, he got into one of his Bashaw 
 furies, and stamping and frowning, said before 
 all the assembled guests — ' D — n that mare ; I 
 wish it was at the bottom of the sea, since you
 
 132 Chimber Chase. 1670. 
 
 think of nothing else, and cannot attend to me^ 
 madam.' The poor lady was so nettled at being 
 so spoken to, or rather so publicly insulted, that 
 she summoned for the nonce sufficient courage 
 to reply, in a perfectly audible voice — ' Nay, Sir 
 Allen, poor Sunbeam is only my day mare, but 
 you will always be my nightmare /' which raised 
 such a laugh at Sir Allen's expense, that he was 
 fain to make good his retreat into the house ; 
 but you may be sure the poor lady paid dearly 
 for this sally, and fared the worse for it all the 
 rest of her short life." 
 
 " A pity," said Mr. Evelyn, '' but she had used 
 whip and spur to her brutal nightmare." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Evelyn, you forget," said Mrs. 
 Neville, '' Martin Luther's verdict on the score 
 of wifely duty to the poor Landgravine of Hesse, 
 and also as Moliere more tersely puts it — 
 
 * La femme, elle n'est la que pour la dependence, 
 Du cote de la barbe, est la toute puissance.' " 
 
 Here Master Hartsfoot involuntarily passed 
 his hand over his chin, as if making a silent pro- 
 test that he had no beard. 
 
 " Ah !" laughed Mr. Evelyn, " no doubt poor 
 henpecked Moliere feels brave when he writes 
 those axioms, touching things as they are, and 
 wherein he feels that he is one of the few excep- 
 tions that prove the rule, for a kinder, better, or 
 more gentle natured fellow never lived. And
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 133 
 
 his wife, like my Lady Castlemaine, is also an- 
 other ' rare jade' that might be added to my 
 Lord Rochester's collection." 
 
 " By-the-bye, I did hear one piece of news 
 out," said Mrs. Neville, "which is that the 
 chimney* money is to be taken from the King, 
 and an equal revenue of something else is to be 
 found for him ; at least, the people are to be re- 
 commended to buy off the tax of chimney money 
 for ever, at eight years' purchase, which will raise 
 Iho King a present sum of £1,600,000, and the 
 State be relieved from all burden. The debate 
 upon it is adjourned tUl to-morrow, and the day 
 after Parliament will be prorogued, and our 
 sapient Solons r eturn to their usual course of 
 idleness." 
 
 " Well, for my part," said Mr. Evelyn, " I 
 am of the opinion of Pliny's witty friend, satius 
 est oliosum esse quam nihil agere /" 
 
 " Quite true," laughed Mr. Locke and Oliver 
 Hartsfoot. 
 
 '' I protest against your abominable Latin, by 
 which we poor ignoramuses lose all the good 
 things," said Dorothy. 
 
 " Well, then, my dear young lady, in plain 
 English, what I said at second hand was, apropos 
 
 * Among the innumerable erpedients to remedy poor Charles 
 the Second's chronic and incurable impecuniosity, a tax of two 
 shillings a year had been levied on all chimneys throughout the 
 United Kingdoms.
 
 134 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 of the prorogation of the Parliament, that it is 
 better to be idle than to do nothing." 
 
 " I confess I often speculate," said Locke, 
 " upon what posterity will or can say upon our 
 terrible dearth, not only of great, but of average 
 men." 
 
 " Or," smiled Oliver Hartsfoot, '' as my man 
 Noah Pump says, ' Good Lord ! what a pretty 
 figure we shall cut by the time we becomes the 
 kantients P " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! I'll give my friend Noah an 
 angel for that the next time I see him," said Mr. 
 Evelyn ; " but it really is deplorable ! to see how 
 the King's business is done, or rather not done, 
 with the exception of poor Pepys, who all in 
 taking most legitimate and constant care ot 
 number one, does work, and does economise his 
 department of the revenue, so far as it is possible 
 to do so, under that most extravagant, and there- 
 fore ruinous of all conditions, whether to empires 
 or individuals — the want of funds. But for all 
 the rest, it may be said of them, with scarcely an 
 exception, that they are the most efficiently use- 
 less^ and the most thoroughly e^^etrustworthy set 
 of officials that ever hung about a court, or cum- 
 bered a State." 
 
 Dorothy, who during this conversation had re- 
 sumed her seat at the open window, and before 
 her embroidery frame, where she had just finished
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 135 
 
 a moss rose, most exquisitely shaded and broken 
 at the stem, as if from the weight of a most vel- 
 vety-looking burglarious bee, who was rifling it 
 of its sweets, now took advantage of the momen- 
 tary silence, and placing her little gold thimble, 
 like a cap of liberty, on the top of her embroidery 
 needle, and twirling it about, said with a sly 
 twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lip, both 
 directed as letters of marque to Master Harts- 
 foot, while her words were addressed to her 
 mother — 
 
 " Mother dear, we — that is Master Hartsfoot 
 and I — wish to go to the Bearward, by the Bank 
 side to-morrow evening. May we ?^' 
 
 " May you ! My dear Thea, you astonish me! 
 — you, who cannot bear to see a fly drowned, or 
 a moth singe its wings, to wish to go to such a 
 vulgar and disgustingly cruel place, where poor 
 animals — your favourite dogs more especially — 
 are tortured. Fie ! child, I could not have be- 
 lieved it ! and Master Hartsfoot too !'^ 
 
 But Master Hartsfoot's part was " to suffer 
 and be strong." So he proffered no word of re- 
 pudiation or defence; no — he understood the 
 ocular letters of marque he had received better 
 than that. 
 
 ** Well, but dear," said Dorothy, returning to 
 the charge, " everybody goes." 
 
 '' And suppose it was the fashion for everyone
 
 136 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 to commit murder — and we may come to that, 
 as tlie only novelty in sin left for us — should you 
 think yourself justified, child, in being a homi- 
 cide, because forsooth others were ?" 
 
 "Nay, dear; scarcely." 
 
 " And yet, Mistress Dorothy, that is precisely 
 what you do ; commit murders by wholesale 
 wherever you go," said Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " No — no, Mr. Flatterer ; mine are only re- 
 vised editions of Colonel Titus's play, and if kill- 
 ing at all, is certainly no murder. But, mamma, 
 I have been to all the other places till I am tired, 
 and I wanted to go there because I've never seen 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, true daughter of Eve ! Well, child, I 
 think the best way of punishing you will be to 
 let you go to the horrid place." 
 
 " I'm sorry to say," said Mrs. Evelyn, " that 
 all the fine lady's do go ; but I'm very certain 
 dear Dorothy will never go again if she goes 
 once, for it is quite, if not more cruel, and dis- 
 gusting than a Spanish bull fight." 
 
 Here they were startled by innumerable voices 
 just under the window, on the Mall, all exclaim- 
 ing— 
 
 " Oh ! what a darling— what a beautiful little 
 creature ! it looks as if it had come out of a wal- 
 nut in a Fairy Tale." 
 
 Dorothy, who was at the window, leant a little
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 137 
 
 more forward, and the others came and stood 
 looking over her shoulder. The King and his 
 usual suite were on the Mall ; but the cause of 
 the hubbub was that Colonel Titus had just 
 arrived, carrying in the corner of his velvet cloak 
 a little Blenheim puppy, as they are now called, 
 but a little Duchess dog as they were then 
 named, and hat in hand, had just shown it to 
 the King, saying — 
 
 " I have the glad tidings to announce to your 
 majesty that Chloe has just had a son and two 
 daughters, and I have brought you the son and 
 heir to know what names and titles your majesty 
 will have bestowed on it — for it really is a perfect 
 beauty !" 
 
 " Let the little creature be called Penderel," 
 said the King, '-^ for it is but meet that the most 
 faithfal of animals should be named after the 
 most faithful of human beings ; and, mind you, 
 my lords, the compliment is all on the side of the 
 biped." 
 
 As he ceased speaking, he happened to look 
 up, and perceiving Dorothy, the King took off his 
 hat, and bowed low, in his own peculiarly grace- 
 ful manner — for which he was as celebrated as 
 for the grace of his dancing. Her curtsey was 
 equally low, and quite as graceful, as she hastily 
 retreated from the window, blushing like " a red 
 red rose.''
 
 138 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 " Oh ! what I would give/' said she, "for that 
 darling pup." 
 
 "I have no doubt," said Mr. Evelyn, "you 
 have only to ask and have." 
 
 " Then I'll be among the select few who ask 
 nothing, and who consequently get nothing," 
 smiled Dorothy. 
 
 ]\Ir. and Mrs. Evelyn now rose to take leave. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Evelyn,'' said the hostess, " as 
 I have very unwittingly lost so much of your 
 com]3any, do return good for evil by remaining to 
 supper ; and I can promise all you gentlemen a 
 haunch of my Lord Keeper's venison, and you, 
 dear Mrs. Evelyn, some of Ruffle's Tansy maids 
 of honour, which you so highly approve of" 
 
 " Yery many thanks, but we cannot to-day 
 accept your tempting invitation, as we are not 
 staying in London, and must return to Sayes 
 Court, and the roads are so bad, that we don't 
 like to venture on them after dark; but I have 
 long meant to beg the favour of Mrs. Ruffle to 
 give me the receipt for those incomparable maids 
 of honour, and also of her beaumanger,"^ Mr. 
 Evelyn has got some very fine new sort of Tansy 
 plants, lately from Holland, some of which he 
 destines for Ruffle, and also some rare bulbs for 
 you, which he will send down to The Chestnuts ; 
 and a blue tulip for you, Dorothy." 
 
 * What we now call blancmange.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 139 
 
 ** A thousand thanks, Mr. Evelyn — how very 
 kind of you ; won't Thea be delighted with her 
 new tulip. I suppose the very tulips in Holland 
 look blue, after De Ruyter's last exploits,^' said 
 Mrs. Neville, as she rang to have Mrs. Evelyn's 
 coach drawn up. And when it was announced, 
 and they had taken their departure, she turned to 
 Mr. Locke, who was about to follow them, say- 
 iQg, as she laid her hand upon his wrist, to pre- 
 vent his rising, ^' Nay — nay, I really cannot con- 
 sent to lose all my guests, and have such a slight 
 offered to my Lord Keeper's venison." 
 
 '' That is right, mama mia ; you secure your 
 prisoner, and I'll take care mine don't escape, 
 thouo-h you have the advantage of havhig the 
 best lock in the world," laughed Dorothy, as she 
 ran to Master Hartsfoot, and forcibly held him in 
 his chair by one little white dimpled hand, while 
 she menacingly held up the fore-finger of the 
 other, as much as to say, " Go, if you dare!" So 
 he did not dare, but remained, which, all things 
 considered, was much more daring.
 
 140 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Assyrian Proverb. 
 
 THE FLOWER AND THE RIVER. 
 MIZPAH ! 
 
 flAVING availed herself of her mother's 
 extorted permission to go to the Bear 
 Garden, Mrs. Dorothy was so afraid 
 of losing a particle of that refined 
 and intellectual diversion, that she insisted upon 
 her ever obedient slave of the lamp taking her 
 there early ; in reality, that she might the better 
 take a census of the house, by being able to dis- 
 tinguish each arrival separately, but being some- 
 what ashamed of being seen there herself, she 
 had taken refuge in the eclipse of a black moire 
 dress, and a black lace whisk ; a red carnation 
 in her bosom, was the only 2^oint de mire about 
 her, and that could be hidden at a moment's 
 notice by the cardinal of her whisk, or the 
 friendly expansion of her large green fan, while 
 a pair of brown 'peau d^Espagne gloves concealed
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. ' 141 
 
 the snowy whiteness of her hands and arms, 
 which might otherwise have formed too marked a 
 contrast to her black dress. On setting them 
 down, Lancelot said the coachman wished to 
 know at what hour he should return, but that as 
 the night was fine, he was sure madam would 
 not mind the horses waiting an hour or two, if 
 Mrs. Dorothy preferred it. 
 
 '^ Oh I tell Arnold to wait by all means," said 
 Dorothy; ^^ don't you think so. Master Harts- 
 foot ? for you know the place might be too hor- 
 rible for us to stay in." 
 
 ^' That was always my great fear," responded 
 the docile Oliver ; " however, we can but try." 
 
 They had the pleasure of being the first arrivals, 
 which at least gave them the choice of one of the 
 best, that is to say, of the least bad boxes. The 
 amphitheatre was about the size of the present 
 Haymarket Theatre ; the boards composing the 
 boxes were so rough, that the roughness frizzed 
 out through the scant lairs of white paint with 
 which they were smeared, which in its turn was 
 enlivened by a broad band of dingy red paint 
 near the top. The as yet '^ beggarly account of 
 empty benches" were covered, it is true, with 
 red Utrecht velvet, but not being stufied, were 
 quite as hard as if they had never encountered 
 this mockery of luxury. At every second box 
 flared a rank oil lamp in an iron sconce, the
 
 142 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 effluvia from which, mingled rather overpower- 
 ingly with the Mosaic of sawdust, orange peel, 
 tobacco ashes, and other contributions that tesse- 
 lated the arena below. The orchestra, then in 
 the act of '' tuning up," consisted of one chroni- 
 cally asthmatic French horn, a theorbo, a dropsi- 
 cal big drum, and two fiddles, whose excruciat- 
 ingly squeaking strings were evidently the two 
 implacable Nemises of the cats, from which they 
 had been originally purloined. 
 
 ^^ Oh ! how horrible !" said Dorothy, taking the 
 carnation out of her bosom, and burying her face 
 in it, to counteract the other perfumes. 
 
 " Ah ! I was afraid such a place could not be 
 in good odour with you," said Master Hartsfoot, 
 having recourse to his own handkerchief, and 
 wincing under the sounds as well as the smells, 
 he not having the same motive as his companion 
 for sacrificing his nose and ears for the satisfac- 
 tion, or rather to the hope, of his eyes. But as 
 Rochefoucault amiably observes — il y^a toujours 
 qitelque chose dans le malheur d'un aiUre, qui ne 
 7WUS depldit pas. So neither Dorothy nor Oliver 
 Hartsfoot were at all sorry to see enter Mr. and 
 Mrs. Pepys, the latter looking as pretty as a 
 very vapid, insipid woman can look, and having 
 that day given Hailes a last sitting for her 
 picture (the one which adorns the frontispiece of 
 the second volume of IMr. Pepys' diary), she still
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 143 
 
 retained her St. Catherine pose and air, draperies, 
 and other accessories, with the exception of the 
 spiked wheel and palm branch, and indeed, it 
 would have been difficult for any other woman 
 to bear the palm where Dorothy Neville was. 
 They were also accompanied by Mrs. Pepys' 
 maidj Mercer.* 
 
 '' Oh ! I'm so glad, Mrs. Dorothy," said Mrs. 
 Pepys, seating herself beside her, " I'm so glad/' 
 said she, with that grating want of tact, peculiar 
 to her countrywomen at all times, ^^ to see that 
 you bear up and enter into the diversions of the 
 town." 
 
 And Mr. Pepys having made one of his private 
 notes that Mrs. Dorothy was looking prodigious 
 
 * It appears to have been a strange anomalous state of society 
 in those days. This Mercer, so often mentioned in Pepys' Diary, 
 not only accompanied her mistress and master to places of public 
 amnsement. but also dined at table with them ; yet Mr. Pepys 
 indignantly and obstinately refused to let his wife invite her draw- 
 ing-master, Mr. Brown, to dine with them ; while, on the other 
 hand, he takes his own sister, Paulina, as a servant, but will not 
 allow her to sit at table with them. Again, he mentions meeting 
 a strange woman at dinner at Lord Sandwich's whom he thought 
 was a new governess ; but adds, " I afterwards heard she was the 
 housekeeper (!)" An d my Lord Sandwich, when intriguing with 
 a Mrs. Beck at Chelsea, where, as Mr. Pepys relates, "He played 
 and sang to his lute under her window, and did forty other sordid 
 and foolish things ; also, as a cloak to his proceedings, sent his 
 daughters to lodge with her ; but when he came there under the 
 pretext of visiting them, packed them off into the Park out of the 
 way." Now I don't for a moment mean to insinuate that "noble 
 lords," or perhaps ignoble lords, and " honourable gentlemen " 
 are not quite as immoral in the present day, or even more so, only 
 there is more veneer and varnish used, more pompous parade and 
 pretension in our very vices, which we dignify with the name of 
 decorum. And as hypocrisy has been called the homage which 
 vice pays to virtue, there never was an age in which virtue had so 
 much homage done her as in the present.
 
 144 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 handsome, and did far out-do Lady Castlemaine, 
 and even Mrs. Middleton, and added aloud a 
 supplement to his wife's speech, assuring Dorothy 
 that there would be rare sport by-and-bye, when 
 the bulls did begin to toss the dogs, he left her 
 to his wife's tender mercies, and seated himself 
 next Oliver Hartsfoot, while Mercer looked and 
 listened in dignified solitude on the back seat. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Pepys," said Oliver, " you have 
 become such a courtier, that you are always at 
 Whitehall, I hear." 
 
 " Only upon business about this Tangier Com- 
 mittee, and in the barge with the King, and the 
 Duke of York, and the Duke of Buckingham, 
 and Sir Philip Warwick to Greenwich t'other 
 day ; but, good Lord I to hear how foolish and 
 common these great people do talk — just like 
 ■ other men. But I did dine at ' The Sun ' to-day 
 with Sir Edward Dering,* and did a good stroke 
 of business by a contract with him for timber, 
 and I was glad when it was over — for I have been 
 terribly out of order all day, and did only come 
 here this evening to please my wife, and giving 
 Mercer the money to pay for us, that I might not 
 break my vow against spending money on wine 
 and public diversions." 
 
 * Sir Edward Dering, of Surrenden Dering, Kent, which county 
 he represented frequently in Parliament. He was the second 
 Baronet of his family, and some time one of the Lords of the 
 Treasury, He died in 1684.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 145 
 
 Oliver Hartsfoot smiled at Mr. Pepys' very 
 naive way of compounding with his conscience, 
 and still greater naivete in proclaiming it ; but 
 merely said lie hoped he was not suffering from 
 overwork. 
 
 '^ No, it is only heartburn, brought on from 
 eating some of Mrs. Barbary* Sheldon's wedding 
 cake. Lord ! to think what a fine rich match 
 she hath made with one Mr. Wood ; but, me- 
 thinks 'tis strange good fortune to so odd-looked 
 a maid, though her body be good, likewise her 
 hand, and her nature, I do think, be very good." 
 
 '' Well," said his companion, ^' after all, that 
 is the chief thing — for nature never wears out, 
 though her gifts, more especially her external 
 ones, do." 
 
 Yet a gentle sigh from Master Oliver, as he 
 thought how little Margaret Neville's external 
 gifts had suffered from the wear and tear of time, 
 put in a protest against his words. 
 
 ^' Good lack! I do often wish," resumed Mr. 
 Pepys, " that something could be discovered to 
 
 * Of course this lady's name, like that of Lady Castlemaine, 
 was Barbara; but there was no act of Parliament against Mr. 
 Pepys always writing and pronouncing it Barbary. Indeed, at 
 that time, orthography was by no means the arbitrary and tyran- 
 nical thing it is now; but, like poetry, a thing (barring the 
 genius) of pure fancy and imagination, so that every writer 
 wrought under a different spell. But it is strange that, in the 
 nineteenth century, even educated Englishmen and women vnll 
 persist in always writing " Tartufe" with two f's, though Moliere 
 bestowed but one upon him ; but to ttrike the balance, they as 
 invariably mulct poor M. Laffitte of one of his f s. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 prevent ugliness in women — for it doth seem to 
 me as unnatural a disease in them as it would be 
 for babies to have the gout. And, Lord ! to see 
 how ugly the Duchess of York do grow ; she 
 features her mother, my Lady Chancellor, more 
 and more every day." 
 
 " Certainly beauty does not flourish among our 
 duchesses — for look at the Duchess of Albemarle ; 
 perhaps it is," added Hartsfoot, ^' that in gain- 
 ing such a height they become dizzy, which im- 
 proves no one's looks." 
 
 ^'Oh! that do remind me," said Mr. Pepys, 
 'i of a capital story my Lord Carlisle did tell me 
 yesterday. You know that the Duke of Albe- 
 marle has become a perfect sot, and now drinks 
 with no one but that fellow Troutbeck— not the 
 taverner, but the other — whom no one else will 
 drink or associate with. Well, t'other night they 
 were hard at it, and the Duke, more than half 
 fuddled, did say — speaking of it as a sort of 
 miracle — that Nan Hyde should ever have become 
 Duchess of York. ^ Oh !' says Troutbeck, ' you 
 give me another bottle, and I'll match that with 
 quite as great a miracle.' The wine was brought, 
 and the Duke said, ^Now for your miracle to 
 match mine.' ' Well, then,' says Troutbeck, ' I 
 think it even a greater miracle that our dirty 
 Bess should ever have become Duchess of Albe- 
 marle !' "
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 147 
 
 While Mr. Pepys was emptying his always 
 well-stocked wallet of gossip for the benefit of his 
 greatly amused companion, the house was begin- 
 ning to fill, and Dorothy, all in apparently listen- 
 ing with the deepest interest to a graphic account 
 that Mrs. Pepys was giving her of a long promised 
 pearl necklace of three rows, with which her hus- 
 band had recently presented her, was sending her 
 eyes on voyages of discovery round the theatre, 
 and at length, standing far back, almost hidden 
 in the shade, she beheld, under the boxes, leaning 
 against a pillar, clad in black velvet, with a heron's 
 plume in his hat, and a white rose in his breast 
 — all her eyes ever went in quest of — for there 
 stood Gilbert Broderick, looking even unusually 
 pale, and by the splashed state of his tan riding- 
 boots, as if he had just come off a journey. The 
 moment their eyes met, Dorothy's whole face was 
 sufi'used with so deep a flush, that Mrs. Pepys 
 said — 
 
 *^ The heat is too much for you, Mrs. Dorothy ; 
 here is my pomander, and do change places with 
 me — you will be cooler." 
 
 But Dorothy, who would not have exchanged 
 her then seat for all the treasures in Europe fused 
 into one universal empire, thanked her, and fan- 
 ning herself, said it was nothing — in fact she 
 never felt better in her life. And the next 
 moment a floral electric telegraph was established 
 
 H Z
 
 148 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 between that comer of the boxes and the opposite 
 pillar under them — that is, her red carnation was 
 once more removed from her bosom, and pressed 
 to her lips, to which the white rose replied in 
 somewhat more demonstrative, though silent 
 fervour. Soon after this, a sort of scaramouch 
 with two monkeys, and a dog to do duty as a 
 steed for them, appeared in the amphitheatre, 
 which part of the performance answered to the 
 clown in a modern circus, who comes to put the 
 audience in good humour by divers quips and 
 cranks, before the real business begins. 
 
 *'Poor darling dog! how intelligent ho is,'* 
 said Dorothy, as an excuse for turning her head 
 completely away from Mrs. Pepys, and fixing her 
 eyes permanently on the opposite pillars. But, 
 alas I quarters of hour's, whether de8 mauvais 
 quarts cTheure^ or those *^ few and far between '* 
 ones, with the essence of a whole life's happiness 
 compressed into their fifteen minutes, such as 
 the one Dorothy was now prodigally expending, 
 WMSt come to an end ; and even " a whole wilder- 
 ness of monkeys" — let alone two — could not go on 
 for ever performing equestrian feats on and over 
 a dog's back. So these charming artistes, with 
 their Master of the Kevels, had to retire, in order 
 to make way for the horrors of the evening. 
 And presently two huge bulls came snorting and 
 bellowing into the amphitheatre, followed by
 
 1070. Clumber Chase. 149 
 
 grooms carrying the poor dogs that wore to bo 
 tossed and tortured. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Dorothy, giving a faint scream, 
 and covering her face with her hands as she rose, 
 " Master Hartslbot I good Master Hartsfoot I do 
 take me out of this — I cannot bear it !" 
 
 While Oliver, who rose with equal alacrity, 
 handed her over the benches, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Pei)ys in vain assured her that now the sport was 
 going to begin, they both, with a hasty " Gootl- 
 night," hurried out as fast as possible ; but 
 arriving so prematurely, not only their own, but 
 no other vehicle was in sight, only a few strag- 
 glers among the lower orders. Now if sorrow is 
 proverbially dry, sitting upon a coach box wait- 
 ing — it may be for hours — is a sorrow which, in 
 all countries, and under all circumstances, coach- 
 men and footmen (iud peculiarly so (even when 
 it is pouring rain), and as Launcelot and Arnold 
 were no exception to this rule, the fact was they 
 had adjourned to a neighbouring alehouse, much 
 frequented by serious Jehews during the common- 
 wealth, and then known as " Nabotii's Vink- 
 YAUD ;" but which, since the Restoration, had 
 changed both its politics and its title, \vhi(;li was 
 now that of " Old Noll's Nose" — a colossal 
 efligy of this solitary feature of Cromwell, upon 
 which the artist had not spared his vermilion, 
 now swinging on a sign-board, in mid air, above
 
 150 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 its hospitably always open porch; and it was 
 astonishing how many poor women in the imme- 
 diate neighbourhood now complained (though 
 they could never manage to do it) of how their 
 husbands were led by the nose. 
 
 ^^ Dear ! dear!" said Oliver Hartsfoot, "this 
 is very untoward ; would you mind walking a 
 little way— though I fear your shoes are too thin 
 for that — or would you be afraid to wait here a 
 few minutes, while I go and look for the coach ?'» 
 
 " Certainly not. What should I fear, dear 
 Master Hartsfoot ? It is a beautiful moonlight 
 night, and don't hurry," added foolish Dorothy, 
 " that is, you — I — what I mean is — you may 
 catch cold, and over-heat yourself by walking too 
 fast." 
 
 Even the muddy river by the bank side looked 
 beautiful, with the moonbeams playing upon its 
 sluggish waters ; and the two or three common 
 hackney boats flitting over them looked actually 
 picturesque, at least so Dorothy thought as she 
 gazed at them ; and she sighed as she did so — 
 for of love and moonlight, sighs are always the 
 sequence — when lo I her sigh was answered by 
 something more than an echo — in short, by 
 another sigh even more profound than her own — 
 for she felt its warm breath upon her cheek, and 
 the next moment her hand was taken and pressed 
 within that of Grilbert Broderick, who stole off
 
 1670. ~ Clumber Chase. 151 
 
 her glove (lovers are such thieves) in order to 
 press it, hastily thrusting the captured glove into 
 his bosom. But they had hardly uttered each 
 other's names before Master Hartsfoot was seen 
 triumphantly advancing, waving his handkerchief 
 to intimate that he had found the carriage. 
 
 " Go, for Heaven's sake! dear Gilbert; I shall 
 never be let out again if we are seen ; the servants 
 will be sure to tell Ruffle, and she will tell my 
 mother ; and here comes Master Hartsfoot !" 
 panted Dorothy. 
 
 Gilbert Broderick loved too truly to be selfish, 
 and was too preux chevalier to compromise his 
 lady love in the most trifling matter, so he in- 
 stantly passed out quickly into the road, as if quit- 
 ting the theatre in haste ; but not before the red 
 carnation and the white rose had changed owners. 
 
 " I fear," said Oliver Hartsfoot, " you have 
 thought me a long time gone ; but I had to hunt 
 them up at an alehouse in the neighbourhood, and 
 the coach will be here in a few minutes now." 
 
 " I did not think you were a moment gone. I 
 am sorry you should have hurried yourself so, 
 Master Hartsfoot. What a lovely night, is it 
 not ? it makes me feel quite happy ! — almost as 
 if one could feel one's wings growing !" 
 
 ^' Well, you certainly look quite radiant." 
 
 '^ What does not, in the moonlight, even the 
 muddy river ?"
 
 152 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 She had scarcely ceased speaking, when loud 
 screams were heard from the river, and cries of 
 ^^ Boat upset ! Man in the water ! Quick ! 
 Someone with a rope to fling him !" But before 
 any rope could be gone for — much less brought 
 — a splash was heard. A cavalier had doffed his 
 hat, cloak, and doublet, and jumped into the 
 river, striking out towards the sinking man, 
 amid the vociferous cheers of the bystanders. 
 But in the broad flood of silver light, Dorothy 
 saw who the cavalier was, and with an uncontroll- 
 able impulse and a wild shriek, darted with 
 extended arms two steps forward ; but only to 
 fall fainting in Oliver Hartsfoot's arms, which 
 narrowly prevented her falling in the road. He 
 held her, fanning her with her own fan, till the 
 carriage arrived, into which he lifted her. It was 
 full a quarter-of-an-hour before she revived, and 
 by that time Gilbert had reached the land with 
 the rescued man. 
 
 '' Both men are safe !" said Oliver, thinking 
 that would be the best restorative, though he was 
 not aware at the time that Dorothy had any per- 
 sonal interest in the matter ; but attributed her 
 swoon to the sudden shock to her nervous system. 
 
 " Thank God !" exclaimed she. 
 
 ''• Here, my man," said Hartsfoot to a poor 
 man standing by, " go and inquire who the two 
 persons are — the man who was drowning, and
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 153 
 
 the gentleman who saved him — and I will give 
 you a shilling." 
 
 The man soon returned, saying — 
 
 " The man as was near drownded, sir, was 
 Master Jambres Fairbrace, the scrivener of 
 Clifford's Inn ; and the gentleman who did the 
 handsome thing, and jumped in after him, is 
 young Master Broderick, Sir Allen Broderick's 
 son. Thank'ee, sir, much obliged" — pocketing 
 the shilling. 
 
 Master Hartsfoot, who now really felt for 
 Dorothy, and knew towards what her anxiety 
 would naturally tend, said — 
 
 '' He's a noble fellow, and cannot be spared. 
 I'll go and take him to a tavern hard by, and see 
 that he gets into dry clothes directly, and takes a 
 sack posset. As it is yet early, you won't mind 
 sitting here for half-an-hour ?" 
 
 Dorothy's only answer was to press his hand 
 and say — 
 
 " God bless you ! dear kind Master Harts- 
 foot." 
 
 Launcelot lowered the steps, Oliver got out, 
 and five minutes after she saw him walking 
 rapidly away, holding Gilbert by the arm, as if 
 afraid he would escape from him ; while Gilbert 
 carried his hat, in both his hands, as if it con- 
 tained somethino^ that he was afraid of losin": — 
 and, indeed, he could not well have worn it on 
 
 H 5
 
 154 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 his head, as his luxuriant long chestnut curls 
 were streaming with water like a river god. It 
 was a full hour before Oliver returned, and 
 Dorothy was delighted with the length of his 
 absence — for the longer he stayed, the more he 
 would bring her back of Gilbert. As she was 
 watching for his coming almost from the time 
 he had set out, she perceived him for full five 
 minutes before he reached the carriage. 
 
 " Well," said he, as soon as he was seated, the 
 door closed, and the vehicle in motion on its way 
 home— ^^ Well, I took him to ' The Dolphin,' and 
 I did what was wiser than merely making him 
 put on dry clothes — for I made him get into a 
 warm bed, and there take a sack posset, while I 
 despatched a messenger to his lodgings in Pall 
 Mall, with a note to his servant, telling him what 
 had happened, and bidding him come directly to 
 attend upon his master, and bring him fresh linen 
 and clothes to dress with. I was very nearly send- 
 ing the note to Sir Allen's, at Whitehall Gardens ; 
 but fortunately I read out the address, when he 
 told me that tender parent did not give his only 
 son a room in his house." 
 
 " So much the pleasanter for his son, I should 
 think," said Dorothy. 
 
 " I think so, too ; but that does not exonerate 
 Sir Allen. However, thank goodness he does 
 not seem to have caught the slightest cold — for
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 155 
 
 as soon as his ablutions were ended, and he had 
 washed the Thames mud away from his person 
 and hair, and thoroughly dried the latter, he, 
 with great anxiety, investigated the lining of 
 his hat. I thought perhaps he had placed his 
 purse there for safety, previous to his plunge in 
 the river ; but he said that was still in his pocket, 
 though all drenched, of course. He seemed 
 thoroughly delighted when he found what he was 
 looking for. I could not exactly, from the other 
 end of the room, see what it was ; but it looked to 
 me like a little brown packet and something red." 
 
 As Dorothy knew perfectly well what it was, 
 she expressed no curiosity upon the subject, but 
 confined herself to enunciating her very high 
 sense of her companion's great kindness ; while 
 Master Hartsfoot repudiated all merit in the 
 matter, saying that no one with any pretension 
 to humanity could but feel deeply interested in 
 so noble, and so, in every way, charming a young 
 fellow ; and as good Master Oliver was a genuine 
 and practically sincere Christian, and therefore 
 always " did unto others as he would they should 
 do unto him," and he truly surmised how 
 anxious poor Dorothy would be to ascertain that 
 young Broderick had not suffered from his gener- 
 ous rescue of the scrivener, he added — 
 
 " I shall make it a point to inquire to-morrow 
 at his own lodgings how he is."
 
 156 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 It is rather too nice and subtile a metaphysical 
 fraction to attempt to analyse, whether had 
 they known it, Gilbert would have been jealous, 
 or Mrs. Neville displeased; but certain it is 
 that Dorothy at that moment felt the most 
 desperate inclination in the world to throw her 
 arms round Master Oliver's neck. However, she 
 resisted the impulse, which was as well — for per- 
 haps even the recipient might not have been 
 pleased to see the daughter so far in advance of 
 he mother.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase." 157 
 
 CHAPTER yn. 
 
 SIR ALLEX AT HOME. A ^ITTTUAL MISTAKE. 
 
 T was about ten days after Gilbert 
 Broderick bad rescued Jambres Fair- 
 brace, tbe scrivener of Clifford's Inn, 
 from a watery grave, tbat before he 
 was np in tbe morning, be received a mandate 
 from bis fatber — for all Sir Allen's communica- 
 tions to bis son deserved no otber name — to 
 attend bim at Wbiteball Gardens before ten 
 o'clock, so tbat tbe poor young man rose, and 
 began dressing bimself witb mucb tbe same 
 ligbt-bearted feeling of alacrity tbat a condemned 
 felon may be supposed to do in attiring bimself 
 on tbe morning of bis execution. Now it was 
 only two evenings before tbis tbat tbe town was 
 ringing witb tbe escapade of tbe two Sir Aliens, 
 to wit, Sir Allen Apsley, and Sir Allen Brode- 
 rick, baving botb gone down tete-a-tete to tbe 
 House of Commons very drunk, and botb per- 
 sisted in speaking at tbe same time, without any 
 possibility of their being either coughed, laughed,
 
 158 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 or hissed down, or even of being forcibly ejected 
 from the House ;^ and Gilbert knew, from bitter 
 experience, that when anything untoward hap- 
 pened to his father, that on the equitable and sa- 
 pient educational principle of whenever the Little 
 Lama of Thibet is guilty of any misdemeanour, 
 or shortcoming, some other poor guiltless boy is 
 invariably flogged for his highness's transgres- 
 sion. So, in like manner. Sir Allen's son was 
 always made available to bear the brunt of his 
 father's failures, and his consequent ill-temper ; 
 and, indeed, but for these, by no means rare 
 occasions, Gilbert Broderick might have ran the 
 risk of forgetting that he had a father, seeing 
 that there were no acts of care or kindness to 
 commemorate that fact. Upon the same evening 
 upon which the two Sir Allen's statesmen-like 
 proceedings in the House of Commons were 
 reported at Whitehall, the Duke of York, all in 
 boasting of the amount of business he had got 
 through that morning at Berkshire House, yet 
 added that it was by no means so much as they 
 ought to have despatched on account of the Lord 
 Chancellor's (Clarendon, his father-in-law), con- 
 tinued sleeping and loud snoring, which disturbed 
 and impeded everyone. Whereupon Killigrew 
 Pere, turning to the King, said — 
 
 " Ah ! it is very certain that there is but one 
 
 » Fact,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 159 
 
 man who could save the country by really doing 
 and looking after its business." 
 
 " And whom may he be ?" asked the King. 
 
 " Why, you know something of him, only not 
 all that people say about him. His name is 
 Charles Stuart." 
 
 The King smiled, and turned upon his heel ; 
 but never resolved upon appealing to either the 
 duty or the diligence of this Charles Stuart. 
 And so matters were let to go on as they were 
 doing, perhaps on the nil clesperandum princij)le of 
 the Apathetic School of Philosophy, that " when 
 things are at the worst they mend." Les Nations 
 ont la vie dure at. And it is fortunate that it is 
 so, or every European country during the last 
 eight hundred years must, in each succeeding 
 age, have collapsed, owing either to the vice, 
 utter want of principle, or incapacity of their con- 
 temporary great men, or rather so-called great 
 men, alias successful men, in high positions. 
 My Lord Leicester, the minion of that worst 
 bad woman, but fortunate monarch. Queen 
 Elizabeth, was no doubt called a great man 
 in his day, but La Yerita e figlia del Tempo ; 
 and Time and his daughter Truth have sent the 
 Lord of Kennelworth (the only rvortk he possessed) 
 down to posterity as an unscrupulous monster of 
 cruelty and meanness, before whose enormities 
 even Nero and Caligula pale, and Herod alone
 
 160 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 could rival in concrete wickednees. There can 
 be no doubt that ambition is a sort of mental 
 alcohol, of which notoriety is the delirium tremens ; 
 and those men who sacrifice everyone and every- 
 thing to contemporary celebrity, mistake the road 
 to the Temple of Fame. 
 
 Bene currunt, sed extra viam, as Erasmus 
 has it; so that having taken the wrong way, 
 if they do arrive at posterity, it is to find 
 their names not in the Temple of Fame, but 
 only on the colonna infame, Happy they who 
 take Geofi'rey Chaucer's sound, sage advice in his 
 " Balade of Gode Counsaile," wherein he exhorts 
 his fellow men to — 
 
 " Flee from tlie presse duell with soth-fastnesse, 
 
 Suffice unto thy good, though it be small * * # 
 That thee is sent receive in bnxomness, 
 The wrastling for this world asketh a fall." 
 
 But Sir Allen Broderick had precisely one of 
 those hard, narrow, selfish natures, that always 
 have been, and always will be, ^^ wrastling for 
 this world/' and which never can be brought to 
 believe that, because they run well, so far as 
 reaching temporary goals go, that they run the 
 wrong way. Who, in fact, will not remember the 
 Gospel truth, though it is the eternal text upon 
 which all time and all nature preach to us, and 
 all history, sacred and profane, confirms to us 
 that ''If a man live many years, and rejoice in
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 161 
 
 them all, yet let him remember the days of clark- 
 nesss— for they shall be many — and all that 
 cometh is vanity."* And so they squander and 
 mortgage the morning and noon-tide of life, as to 
 render these inevitable " dark days " still darker, 
 till '^ the nisrht cometh when no man can work." 
 And when the final reckoning comes, and when 
 these poor short-sighted self-seekers are sum- 
 moned from this world's fleeting pageant to which 
 they so clung, themselves being gone, there is 
 none left to regret them, no, not one. 
 
 In a large room, pannelled with oak, with 
 escutcheons exquisitely carved in high relief in the 
 centre of each panel, a polished oak j?^^?^?^^^, or 
 inlaid floor, partially covered with a fine Turkey 
 carpet, and luxuriantly furnished with ebony and 
 silver cabinets, mulberry velvet hangings, finished 
 with rich deep bullion fringe, as were also the 
 Charles the First chairs, covered with the same 
 velvet ; while on one spare oblong table, on which 
 was a Persian carpet, were placed, ready for their 
 owner's use, a high-crowned, grey felt, Cavalier 
 hat, with a broad band of purple velvet round it, 
 and two long drooping grey ostrich feathers, a 
 pair of gauntlet tan gloves, and a basket-hilted 
 sword; at another large carved ebony and 
 silver, luxuriantly-appointed writing-table, sat 
 Sir Allen Broderick, who, to judge by his knit 
 brows, his bitten lips, and his frequent pauses, 
 
 * Ecclesiastes chap, sd,, ver. 8.
 
 162 Clamber Chase. 1670. 
 
 in which he caused the feather of his pen to toy 
 absently with a group of Naiades, on a magnifi- 
 cent Benvenuto Celini silver-gilt hand-bell that 
 stood at his right hand, was evidently in the 
 throes of some unusually difficult composition. 
 And sooth to say, it is difficult to be publicly 
 one^s own panegyrist, and proclaim all one's own 
 virtues, gifts, and graces ; and the task becomes 
 still less easy when one has first to invent the 
 attributes which are to be eulogised. Now the 
 origin of poor Sir Allen's perplexity on the 
 present occasion was this. The day before he 
 had met Dryden, and Sir Gilbert Pickering 
 nearly at his own door, when he first issued 
 forth to take his morning walk, the former think- 
 ing to please him, as it would have done any 
 other father, said — 
 
 *^ Well met, Sir Allen, I give you joy ! '* 
 '^ Of what ? " said he, hoping it might be some 
 scrap of Court favour intended for him, of which 
 he was yet ignorant. 
 
 *' It is very generous of me to bely the proverb, 
 which says ' two of a trade can never agree,' but 
 Hippocrene has many rills, if only one source, 
 and I really think Master Gilbert has found the 
 source and quafi'ed from the fountain head. I do 
 not say it to flatter you, but in all truth I think 
 his poem — I mean his Eosphoros"^ — admirable, 
 and some of his minor poems gems, and so I 
 
 * Eosphoros— The Star, that makes it well to wake again.
 
 1670. Climher Chase. 163 
 
 told him when he consulted me about publishing 
 them." 
 
 Now, there is nothing so ill-bred as ill-temper, 
 which is what makes it the most vulgar of all 
 the vices, and Sir Allen Broderick's ill- temper 
 was now on this occasion concrete. First, he was 
 furious to think his son should meditate any such 
 public method as authorship, of making his exist- 
 ence patent to the world, and so " clashing," as 
 he phrased it, with his father. And next, with 
 the bitter, cold jealousy of hate, which always 
 resents, either the fear or the dislike, which it is 
 conscious of deserving, he was savage to think 
 that this son, whom he suppressed so far as pos- 
 sible, and kept at such an unnatural distance, 
 had not first consulted and confided in ki7n about 
 this matter ; for those who systematically violate 
 them all towards others, are invariably wonderful 
 sticklers for the sacredness of " family ties," 
 where their own personal pleasure, interest, or 
 convenience is concerned. 
 
 So instead of even the conventional courtesy 
 of thanking the laureate for his kind and flatter- 
 ing verdict, he merely growled out — 
 
 ^ ^ Oh ! indeed, I was not aware he indulged in 
 that sort of folly." 
 
 But he resolved then and there, that his son's 
 effusions should never see the light, unless they 
 issued forth, preceded by a fulsome dedication to
 
 164 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 himself! and it \Yas tlie endeavour to announce 
 to the world what certainly wouldhQ the greatest 
 news he could possibly regale it with, to wit, the 
 tender, and more than maternal care, he had 
 always lavished on his son ; and that son's fears 
 that nothing but the halo of his father's loved 
 and honoured name, could induce the public to 
 view his crude productions in a favourable light, 
 which now occupied, or rather pre-occupied that 
 exemplary parent. The great difficulty being at 
 once to carry out the school-boy axiom of '^ lay 
 it on thick, and some will stick," and at the same 
 time to avoid the Charybdis of what modern 
 schoolboys would call " coming it too strong." 
 But still, on the other hand, Virgil is right — 
 mens agitat ??iolem — Sind it was the mass he wished 
 to inform, or rather to mis-inform, for no one 
 knew better the value of a well-aimed lie than 
 Sir Allen ; and that lies should be so potent, is 
 all the fault of Truth ; for, as a popular dissent- 
 ing minister of the present day observed in one 
 of his sermons, ^' Truth is such an inveterate 
 dawdle, that a lie will travel round the world 
 while she is putting on her boots ! " 
 
 In the midst of all the difficulties about this 
 literary tour de force of the suppressio veri and 
 suggestio falsi, a door opened at his back, at the 
 other end of the room, slightly creaking on its 
 hinges, as all doors did more or less in those days.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 165 
 
 " Who's there ?" asked Sir Allen, in a sharp, 
 angry Yoice, without, however, turning round on 
 his chair to see. 
 
 ^^ It's me, sur." 
 
 "Who the bare bones are you?" 
 
 " Desmond, yer honour." 
 
 " What the Cromwell brought you here ?" 
 
 " Shure it was your honour's morning draught 
 and the Botigo,* which is worth nothing if it is 
 not like some people's temper, scraching hot." 
 
 Now this Desmond was an Irishman whom 
 Sir Allen had taken into his serviceout of charity, 
 as he said, but in reality because he came for 
 half the wao:es of his EnHish footmen, and was 
 a fine, good-looking, tall, showy servant, more 
 especially in Sir Allen's crimson livery, with its 
 white facings and silver lace, and also a large 
 solid silver badge on his left arm of Sir Allen's 
 armorial bearings, such as only private postillions 
 wear now, but which all serving men wore then. 
 He now entered with a tray with one cover laid, 
 the aforesaid Botigo, a roast chicken, a tankard 
 of ale, and a tall, diaphanic-looking flask of 
 Rhenish wine ; in a word, his master's breakfast. 
 
 " Will I move any of dem papers, or get 
 another table to put the breakquist upon ?" 
 
 " Go to the d 1," growled Sir Allen. 
 
 * Botigo, a sausage made of eggs, mushrooms, and the blood of 
 the sea mullet.
 
 166 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 '^ Shure I am here." 
 
 And having so far relieved his feelings, Des- 
 mond placed the tray upon another table, while 
 he lifted over a small chess table to put it on, 
 close by his master's chair. 
 
 ^' What o'clock is it," asked the latter. 
 
 '' Why, thin, be dad ! one wud tink I was de 
 town clock, de way de people does be axing me 
 de time ; and, faix ! if me hands had nothing 
 else to do, like dose of de town clock, but point 
 to de hours, sorrow a much use it ud be, seeing 
 de're niver five minutes in the same place." 
 
 " Will you hold your confounded tongue and 
 look for my watch ?" 
 
 Now Sir Allen's watch was one of the last ab- 
 surdities that fashion had hit upon, being the 
 golden model of a duck, which opened under- 
 neath, longitudinally in the centre, and within 
 contained a watch, and this one, not being larger 
 than a large walnut, was thought an especially 
 delicate little trinket. 
 
 "And where wud I luck for yer watch, sir? 
 Shure it's in your own pockets you ought to have 
 it." 
 
 " Idiot ! look under those papers, and all about 
 the table. You've seen it a hundred times ; it's 
 a duck in gold." 
 
 " That's more of it," muttered Desmond, as he 
 removed and shook each book and paper separ-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 167 
 
 ately, and then replaced them. " Dat^s more of 
 it. Shure in Oirland it's in de pond de ducks 
 do be, and not among papers." 
 
 Everything had been taken off of the table, 
 but no watch could be found ; Sir Allen, there- 
 fore, flew into one of his towering passions, and 
 flatly accused Desmond of having stolen it, telling 
 him at the same time that that was his reward 
 for taking an Irish blackguard into his service. 
 
 " Och ! I don't doubt but you're a good judge 
 of blackguards, sur, but I have not got the 
 watch." 
 
 And here he folded his arms and set his teeth, 
 as he followed Sir Allen round the room with his 
 eyes, but neither moved nor uttered another 
 word, nor offered to pick up a single thing as 
 Sir Allen dashed them about, and swept every- 
 thing off the different tables. 
 
 At last, coming to the table, where lay his hat, 
 sword, and gloves, he lifted up the hat, and there 
 was the watch under it, where he himself had 
 placed it, to have it ready when he went out. 
 He was not so much ashamed of himself as pro- 
 voked and annoyed ; but turning awkwardly to 
 the dogged, stolid, immoveable statue in plush, 
 he stammered out — '- Oh, I beg your pardon ; I 
 thought perhaps you had — In short, I forgot 
 where I had put it." 
 
 *' 1^0 offince, sur," said Desmond, measuring
 
 168 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 his master from head to foot, with a sort of side 
 glance, but still keeping his arms folded ; ^' no 
 offince ; shure \ve were both mistaken, dat's all. 
 You tuck me for a thafe, and I tuck you for a 
 gintleman ; and, faix, I'm t inking I made de 
 biggest mistake of de two." 
 
 Sir Allen reddened with suppressed rage to the 
 very roots of his hair, and said, '' I'm sorry, my 
 man, I was so hasty." 
 
 ^'Och! don*t mintion it, Sur Allen. Shure 
 them's the best dispositions. I'm mighty pas- 
 sionate meself, for the matter of that. I might 
 kill you in a passion just, but it ud be over 
 directly, and I'd niver tink a haporth about it de 
 next minute." 
 
 Sir Allen felt very much inclined to adopt the 
 same course of '' happy despatch," and subse- 
 quent oblivion upon his servant ; but here the 
 door opened, and the butler announced, '' Cap- 
 tain Broderick, Sir Allen." So biddmg Desmond 
 leave the room (which he was only too glad to 
 do), seating himself before his breakfast, and 
 unfolding his napkin, he greeted his son with — 
 " So you are come at last ?" 
 To which poor Gilbert meekly replied that he 
 had endeavoured to be punctual, as the message 
 he had received was to attend his father before 
 ten, of which it then wanted a quarter. Sir 
 Allen proceeded with his meal, never inquiring
 
 1670. Clamber Chase. 169 
 
 whether his son had breakfasted, and leaving 
 him standing for nearly all the rest of the audi- 
 ence, hat in hand, like a groom, or any other 
 menial, waiting for the orders of the day. 
 
 '' Ahem I" said Sir Allen, at the end of ten 
 minutes, draining another glass of Rhenish, 
 leaving the roast chicken, to that common, but 
 not on that account more agreeable freak of fate, 
 considerably reduced circumstances, and backing 
 his chair away from the debris of his morning 
 repast. '' Ahem I the matter upon which I sent 
 for you I will speak of anon ; but first, I think 
 it right to tell you that it would have been more 
 decorous, more dutiful, and more befitting my 
 honour ! to have consulted me upon your afiairs, 
 instead of laying bare to strangers what should 
 be the sacred arcana of fomily matters, upon 
 which a father's judgment and authority must 
 be the only eligible umpires." 
 
 " Really, sir," rejoined poor Gilbert, in genuine 
 and profound surprise, but changing alternately 
 from red to white, from his chronic terror of his 
 father, ^^ I am so little aware of having done so, 
 that I am quite at a' loss to conjecture to what 
 circumstance or act of mine you can possibly 
 allude." 
 
 " Oh I you are, are you? Well, they say every 
 poet is a fool, and fools, like liars, have proverb- 
 ially short memories," observed Sir Allen, with 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 170 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 one of his sardonic sneers, the nearest approach 
 to a smile that ever flitted over his satyr-like 
 type of face. 
 
 ^^ I do not think in this instance, sir, it is my 
 memory which is in fault, as it is impossible to 
 remember what one never did." 
 
 '^ And I suppose it is only a myth of mine, 
 and that you never went to John Dryden to con- 
 sult him about rushing into print ; and — and 
 summoning the public to your crude crotchets 
 and moon-struck rhymes ?" 
 
 The whole " head and front of his offending" 
 now rushed in accusing crimson to the poor cul- 
 prit's face, as taking council of the feather in his 
 hat, and passing it to and fro through his fingers, 
 he stammered out — " I did not like, sir, to take 
 the liberty of consulting you about so trifling a 
 matter, and one that I was aware you would feel 
 no interest in." 
 
 ^' Tliafs nothing to the purpose. It's the 
 want of duty and respect of which I complain, 
 and the acquainting strangers with one's family 
 affairs, always an undignified proceeding." And 
 here Sir Allen rose, paced up and down the room 
 in his normal attitude, that of his head thrown 
 back, and his right hand on his hip, almost a 
 facsimile of the pose in which Cruikshank has 
 immortalised " Lord Bateman." After which he 
 continued, " In the first place, I think it
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 171 
 
 indelicate of you to drag yourself before tlie pub- 
 lic in any way during my lifetime. This sort of 
 •clasbings and helical risings in families should 
 always be avoided. However, upon one condition 
 I will allow you to publish your rhymes, that you 
 inscribe them to me with a proper dedication, 
 though I should infinitely prefer your not pub- 
 lishing them, or obtruding yourself on public 
 notice in any way. Here" — taking his morning's 
 work from the writing-table — "■ is a rough draft 
 of what you are to say, the style, of course, to be 
 polished and revised prior to publication." 
 
 Gilbert bowed, and took this precious docu- 
 ment in profound silence ; and when lat^r he 
 read it in the solitude of his own room, he was 
 thankful that he had been left the alternative 
 of not publishing his poems — for he felt only too 
 heavily that his father's name was neither " loved" 
 nor " honoured," and had too keen and conscious 
 a sense of the impious sacrilege of a much ag- 
 grieved child, lending himself for the sake of 
 authorly vanity to such a sham, about such a 
 parent ; and, indeed, the sacrifice was not so very 
 great, despite Dryden's very flattering encourage- 
 ment, seeing that the only public he, Gilbert, 
 cared to please, or to pluck fame from, began and 
 ended with Dorothy Xeville, who was at once his 
 inspiration and his goal. 
 
 " There is another matter also which I intended 
 
 I %
 
 172 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 speaking to you upon/ resumed Sir Allen, so 
 soon as he had transferred, not, indeed, any of his 
 possessions, but all the virtues he did not possess 
 in the aforesaid dedication to his son, ^^ and that 
 is, that I must beg you will not again drag my 
 name into the mire, by jumping into the Thames 
 at midnight to rescue capsized scriveners, or 
 other low people. Had it been the royal barge, 
 indeed, or anyone else's of condition, there might 
 have been some excuse." 
 
 ^' Really, sir," said the young man, with a wan 
 smile, " I did not think of first making researches 
 in the Herald's College when a fellow creature 
 was drowning." 
 
 '^ Fellow creature ! " vociferated Sir Allen, 
 flinging back his head in a way that seemed to 
 endanger its rolling off on the ground, while 
 his right foot was advanced to the uttermost, 
 his hand grasped his hip, and his elbow was 
 bowed out like the handle of a tea-pot. ^' Fellow 
 creatures ! Such canaille may be your fellow 
 creatures, but they are not mine. Zounds ! sir, 
 have you no respect for the name you inherit ?" 
 
 ^^ So much, sir, that by God's mercy I hope 
 never to do anything that may make my children 
 ashamed of the name they will inherit." 
 
 Sir Allen chafed at this home thrust ; but as 
 he pre-eminently possessed ^^ the wiser part of 
 valour," he thought it better to parry than to
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 173 
 
 return it. So, fanning himself with his handker- 
 chief, he resumed his seat, and after one or two 
 more sonorous "Ahems!" said, " Sit down, that 
 I may now speak to you about the business upon 
 which I sent for you. You are now two -and- 
 twenty ?" 
 
 '' Three-and- twenty, sir." 
 
 " Well, an additional reason why you should 
 be settled." 
 
 From its previous violent and almost audible 
 beating, Gilbert's heart now stood still, as the 
 blood receded from his cheeks, and a deadly chill 
 paralysed all his limbs. 
 
 " And," resumed his father, " despite all his 
 enemies, my Lord Sandwich appears to have a 
 greater hold upon the King's favour than ever ; 
 and, exclusive of the £8,000 a year he has settled 
 upon him in perpetuity, I have no doubt that his 
 Majesty would give a dower of £20,000, or 
 £30,000, to my Lord's eldest daughter, if she 
 married suitably. Now the money, and my Lord 
 Sandwich's bran new earldom, is the least of it ; 
 but the bedchamber influence is everything. Pome 
 fools strain after wealth, others after titles, 
 whereas the royal road to them is court favour, 
 which comprises all things. Therefore, you will 
 go to ray Lord Sandwich's, at his new house in 
 Lincoln's-Inn-Fields — from me — to offer your- 
 self as suitor to Lady Jemima Montague, telling
 
 174 Chimber Chase. 1670. 
 
 my Lord that I will do my part, so that we shall 
 not fall out about settlements." 
 
 *^ But, sir, it is the public talk that Lady 
 Jemima Montagu is actually affianced to a son 
 of Sir George Carteret." 
 
 " ^ Sdeath ! Sir, I hope you don't presume to 
 compare Sir George Carteret's son to my — I 
 mean — that you don't j)resume to compare Sir 
 George Carterett to me !" 
 
 " Still, sir, an engagement is an engage- 
 ment." 
 
 " Not when a better one offers." 
 
 Young Broderick was so dumbfounded by the 
 cool cynicism of this very common, though sel- 
 dom openly proclaimed, inverse species of mor- 
 ality, that he remained silent, whereupon his 
 father went on — 
 
 "Now, no shilly shallying. You have my 
 orders, and, to save time and trouble, I may as 
 well tell you at once that there is no appeal from 
 them." 
 
 " Sir," said Gilbert, with more firmness and 
 decision than he had ever before summoned 
 courage to assume towards his father, " I have 
 always endeavoured to obey you, not simply to 
 the letter, but in spirit ; and have tried invari- 
 ably, not only to avoid displeasing you, but have 
 on all occasions, so far as I was able, to antici- 
 pate your wishes. Neither am I one who deem
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 175 
 
 that God and nature have set the same narrow 
 limits to filial obedience that the law has ; but, 
 sir, I would with all due deference and respect, 
 remind you that I am of age, at the same time 
 that I inform you I cannot marry Lady Jemima 
 Montagu." 
 
 Had a thunderbolt literally fallen at his feet 
 Sir Allen would in all probability have been less 
 astounded, and he certainly could not have been 
 more so if, instead of this calm and respectful, 
 but decided protest, his hitherto passively and im- 
 plicitly submissive son had suddenly with a sledge 
 hammer dealt him a violent physical blow. He 
 positively both gasped and reeled under his son's 
 unwonted audacity, and as soon as he could 
 speak, which was not for some moments, he stam- 
 mered out — 
 
 " So you will not marry Lady Jemima Mon- 
 tagu ? Is that your ultimatum ?" 
 
 *^Itis, sir." 
 
 " Harkee, young gentleman ; I'm not to be 
 defied on all points. I still will be obeyed, 
 since I have the misfortune to be your father, a 
 circumstance you seem to forget. My Lord Peter- 
 borough is recalled from Tangier ; Lord Dart- 
 mouth sails in six weeks to replace him. You 
 either marry Lady Jemima Montagu, or you pre- 
 pare to accompany Lord Dartmouth to Tangier, 
 where you will remain till the destruction of all
 
 176 Clumber Chase. 1670, 
 
 the Moorish fortifications and harbours is com- 
 pleted, and which it is calculated will take about 
 four years ; and mind, sir, not a syllable of the 
 conversation that has passed this morning be- 
 tween us to your friend Mr. Dryden, or any one 
 else ; and you are publicly to state that it is your 
 own whh, muck against ndne^ that you go to Tangier^ 
 for I do not chose to have all their d tongues- 
 set a wagging against me. So, once for all — 
 Lady Jemima Montagu or Tangier ?" 
 
 '•^ Tangier, sir," responded Gilbert, in a clear^ 
 firm, and perfectly audible voice. 
 
 " Then Tangier be it," hissed Sir Allen, in a 
 tone so hoarse and guttural that it sounded more 
 like an effort of ventriloqui&m than ordinary 
 human speech. 
 
 '' There is one thing I would ask you, sir,' ■ 
 said Gilbert, looking into his hat, which he held 
 between both his hands, as if it had been a well^ 
 in which he was searching for truth. ^*^ Would 
 you have any objection to my going down to 
 Clumber Chase to take leave of my Aunt Bro- 
 derick before my departure ? for I hear her health 
 is so broken I fear I may not see her again." 
 
 And as he thought of all her care and kind- 
 ness — the only care and kindness he had ever 
 known since his mother's death, when he was a 
 child of ten, the tears welled up in Gilbert's 
 eyes \ nay, they did more, they overflowed and
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 177 
 
 trickled down his cheeks, at which, upon seeing 
 his father's sneer of ineffable contempt, he hastily 
 brushed them away. 
 
 " A very great objection," said Sir Allen ; ^^ I 
 don't want you to play the same crooked game 
 against me that she did with my Uncle Mortimer, 
 who left her Clumber Chase, and left it unen- 
 tailed, too I instead of leaving it in the male line 
 to me, as he ought to have done ; for what the 
 deuce do women know about managing landed 
 property ? And what the devil does any woman 
 want beyond a hundred a year and a prayer 
 book ?" 
 
 Now, the real truth of the matter was, that 
 Sir Reginald Mortimer, Sir Allen's maternal 
 uncle, having been very early in his career dis- 
 gusted with his nephew's adamantine selfish- 
 ness, and shocked at his profligacy, and moreover, 
 thinking that his large paternal estate of 
 Broderick Park, in Yorkshire, was quite suffi- 
 cient for a man who had no sympathies or 
 aspirations beyond self; had left his beautiful 
 place of Clumber Chase, in Suffolk, to his dearly 
 loved niece, Phillida Broderick, whom he well 
 knew — had she little, or had she much — had a 
 deep sense of the responsibility of her steward- 
 ship, and only lived to minister to the wants, or 
 to the pleasures of everyone of God's creatures 
 that came within her reach, for she in youth's 
 
 I 5
 
 178 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 early spring, when others cull blossoms, liad a 
 great blight fall upon her life ; she had deeply 
 loved her cousin, the gay, gallant, handsome 
 Algernon Neville, and for a long time thought 
 he loved her, till the blow came, and she found 
 he had only sought her for the sake of her friend 
 Margaret, Sir Charles Wheeler's most beautiful 
 daughter, which inedited romance, Margaret 
 Neville, though now ten years a widow, had 
 never even suspected. It was Phillida's one 
 secret, and she was determined it should go a 
 secret to her grave with her. Oh ! what softeners 
 and purifiers are these moral simooms ! True, 
 they prostrate in the dust and unto death for 
 the time ; but after, all other storms pass lightly 
 over. Sorrow and disappointment warp and 
 harden narrow, shallow natures, but affliction is 
 the appointed training-school of all broad, deep, 
 and noble ones ; and the blow which had so 
 heavily fallen, and crushed out all hope from 
 Phillida Broderick's young life, had, like the 
 bruised bitter herbs for the Hebrew sacrifices, 
 only brought out in greater fragrance the holy 
 sweetness of her nature, and gave her that truly 
 Catholic sympathy, which can only be acquired 
 by searching in our own hearts for the key to 
 others' lives. Oh, fate! thou world-old great 
 dramatist — how stringently thou keepest the 
 unities of all thy tragedies ! Phillida Broderick,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 179 
 
 wlio had begun her life with sucli a heart-quake, 
 was destined to end it, if not with equal, yet 
 with similar uproo tings ; as from the tyranny 
 and mean jealousy of that petty domestic Herod, 
 her brother, she was now, in her declining years, 
 deprived of the solace and society of the three 
 beings she loved best on earth — her nephew Gil- 
 bert, her oldest and dearest friend, Margaret 
 Neville, and her charming and affectionate little 
 daughter, Dorothy ; for the two latter could not, 
 in common self-respect, subject themselves to 
 Sir Allen's insults and suspicions. True, they 
 corresj)onded with their kind friend of Clumber 
 Chase, '' as often as the few and far between," 
 and very irregular and uncertain posts, and 
 ^^ private hands" of that day, gave them the op- 
 portunity of doing ; but where hearts, and souls, 
 and minds are oxe, what a poor pale simulacrum 
 of affection are letters ! with hundreds of mile- 
 stones between each. 
 
 When his father had impugned his son's 
 motives in wishing to personally take leave of 
 his aunt, for sordid and selfish ends, the young- 
 man replied, with a flush of indignation on his 
 heretofore deadly pale face — 
 
 '' Sir, were my Aunt Phillida to leave me the 
 whole world, the day she left it would be the 
 saddest day of my life." 
 
 "Ha! ha! a most dutiful and affectionate
 
 180 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 speech, I must say, considering you have a father ! 
 who has still to leave the world," said Sir Allen, 
 with a strange noise, something between a growl 
 and cachination, while like Miss Kilmanseg's 
 sire, he — 
 
 ''Washed his hands with invisible soap, 
 In imperceptible water." 
 
 Curtly adding a moment after, as he suddenly 
 quitted his seat, and walked over to within a few 
 paces of his son, then stopping with a sort of 
 " present — fire ! " manner — " you may go." 
 
 Gilbert rose, bowed silently, and withdrew, but 
 before he had closed the room door after him, Sir 
 Allen had resolved that the repoi^t should get about 
 that the reason of his son^s departure for Tangier 
 was that his addresses had been rejected by Lady 
 Jemima Montagu ! Albeit, from her very plain 
 person, uncouth, unformed manners, and totally 
 uncultured mind, the very last person who would 
 be likely to inspire such an all-accomplished, 
 preux Chevalier, as Gilbert Broderick, with a 
 passion malheureuse ; but that did not matter a 
 Jico ; probabilities were too common-place for Sir 
 Allen's genius to condescend to manipulate the 
 mprobable was what he alone deigned to work 
 in, and no one knew better from long and 
 successful experience, that once sound the wrong 
 note to start it with, and it was next to an impos- 
 sibility ever to get that concrete ass, the public.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 181 
 
 into tlie right key after. In short, no one could 
 have written for the benefit of courtiers, diplo- 
 matists, politicians, authors, and men of the 
 world, a more compendious and practical physi- 
 ology of lying than this *^ clever man"." 
 
 How many dead walls we come to in life, where 
 we have not even the option of turning back, and 
 have nothing for it, but either to dash our heads 
 against them or stand still, and summon resigna- 
 tion and resolution to our council. But some- 
 times Fate ^^ writes such bitter things against us" 
 on these dead walls, that the latter course is not. 
 at first so easy, till sleep, that great catholic 
 sister of mercy, comes, and ^^ draws her small 
 soft fino'er throuoh them all." 
 
 Could Gilbert Broderick only have been by 
 some good fairy invisibly transported to his own 
 room on leaving his father, he felt so utterly 
 prostrated and exhausted both in body and mind, 
 that no doubt this Sister of Mercy might have 
 come to him ; but no, he had to go with his 
 great load of misery, under which he staggered 
 and reeled like a drunken man, into the garish 
 light of the busy, bustling, work-a-day world, 
 with all its pleasure-worshippers, and its mam- 
 mon-worshippers, to jostle, stare at, and 
 comment upon him ; and whoever yet was 
 suffering under any abnormal affliction, and 
 had to drag it with them through the highways
 
 182 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 and byeways, that they did not meet the very 
 person whom they would have gone any distance 
 to avoid ? Gilbert had slowly and mechanically 
 descended the first flight of stairs, more like a 
 person in a state of sonnambulism than a wak- 
 ing man, so little was his spirit present with, 
 and conducting his body, when he caught sight 
 of his father's servants, clustering and gossiping 
 round the open hall door ; their backs were 
 towards him, so they had not seen him, but he 
 felt it so utterly impossible to support either 
 their wonder, their pity, or even their silent 
 respect, in his present frame of mind, that he 
 turned hastily back, as if he had suddenly seen 
 approaching some terrible and imminent danger. 
 And when he reached the first landing he sat 
 down upon a long oak bench, covered with mul- 
 berry-coloured velvet, which ran along the side 
 of a large pier-glass that reached from the ceil- 
 ing to the floor, which bench was placed there for 
 the use of pages and servants in waiting. He 
 sat there for full ten minutes to try and collect 
 his thoughts, and marshal his conflict of painfal 
 feelings into sufiicient subjection to enable him 
 to reach his lodgings, with at least the decency 
 of external calm and self-possession. He might 
 have taken longer to do this, only that he heard 
 a movement in the room where he had left his 
 father, and dreading another rencontre he hastily
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 183 
 
 arose, put his collar straight, adjusted his hair in 
 the glass, slouched his hat somewhat more than 
 usual over his eyes, and, putting on his gloves, 
 leisurely descended the stairs, purposely clanking 
 his spurs that the servants might hear him, and 
 so stand aside to let him pass. All of which 
 happened just as he wished it, he merely touching 
 his hat a la militaire^ in acknowledgment of their 
 silent salutations. So there, at least, was Scylla 
 cleared, but, as is too often the case, only to be 
 engulphed in Chary bdis, for at his father's very 
 door he was pounced upon with cordial greetings 
 by Mr. Pepys and Tom Killigrew, which latter 
 was laughing more than such a stale rechaiiffe 
 seemed to warrant, at Pepys' wonderful escape, 
 a few months ago, from that infuriated Portu- 
 guese Padre^ and how mighty handsome it was 
 of Colonel Titus to let him (Mr. Pepys) seek 
 safety in flight, while he (Titus) remained to 
 encounter the Jesuit single handed. 
 
 '' How now, my noble friend," cried Killigrew, 
 laying his hand upon Gilbert Broderick's shoulder. 
 " How now, my noble friend, as they say in the 
 House of Lords, where there is little that's 
 friendly and less that is noble. Like poor 
 Ophelia, prythee "wear thy rue with a difference," 
 boy ; that is, don't wear it all in thy face, to 
 make thee look like a solar eclipse. Marry, go 
 home, and perfume thy wit with ' The Eomaunt
 
 184 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 of tlie Eose/ or sweeten thy humour with ' Meli- 
 beus.' " 
 
 Gilbert smiled a wan smile, and got as far as 
 "Ah ! Tom, if every one had your spirits — " and 
 then fairly broke down. 
 
 " Good Lord !" said Mr. Pepys, coming to the 
 rescue, " to see how a man's humour shall be 
 turned by a straw. The other day, at Berkeshire 
 House, I was more than put out by my Lord 
 Chancellor's snoring, and having of all our busi- 
 ness impeded, and my wife giving me sweet 
 sauce with a leg of mutton, so that I was fain to 
 dine meanly off a marrow bone. But I went to 
 the King's house, to see ^ The Maiden Queen,' 
 which, indeed, the more I do see the more I do 
 like, and is an excellent play, and so done by 
 Nell,* her merry part, as cannot be better done 
 in nature. And I did laugh till I cried, and so 
 home to bed with great content ; and as she plays 
 in it again to-night, you cannot do better. Master 
 Gilbert, than be led by me, and go and laugh too." 
 
 Here Desmond came out of the house, holding 
 a letter, which he handed to Killigrew, saying — 
 
 " Shure, sur. Mister Somerset's French 
 futma,n, in feaders,t cudent find yer house, 
 
 * Gwynne. 
 
 t This was the same ** French footman in feathers" who had 
 occasioned Mr. Pepys sundry vague disquietudes, from being the 
 bearer, on two several occasions, of certain mysterious messages 
 from his master, Mr. Somerset, to Mrs. Pepys, delivered apart, 
 only fortunately, Mr. Pepys ' ' did think there was nothing in it," 
 and there is a great deal in that.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 185 
 
 and axed me to Live dis wid you, from his 
 master." 
 
 Killigrew broke the seal, and found a few lines, 
 merely saying — 
 
 " My Dear Killigrew, — 
 
 " I herewith enclose yon the French 
 verses I promised yon, and hope yon will profit 
 by their philosophy ; though I confess I am not 
 a sufficiently subtle logician to attempt — and still 
 less in the particular point in question — to wish 
 to prove a positive by a negative. 
 *^Ever yours, 
 
 ''' Till I am someone else's, 
 
 '^ H. Somerset." 
 
 '^ By Jove ! my dear Broderick, the very pre- 
 scription for your case," said Killigrew, pro- 
 ceeding to read aloud the verses Mr. Somerset 
 had sent him. 
 
 LE VRAI BON SENS, PAR UN QUI EN A FAIT LE FICHU EX- 
 P^EIENCE. 
 
 " Je ne venx ni la gloire, ni les succes, 
 L'ambition, ne me vaut rieu ; 
 Que le Ciel m'accorde seulement, 
 L'esprit libra, pour tout bien. 
 
 Loin de moi, tout orgaeil. 
 Que le hon sens me mene toujours ; 
 Les vrai besoins sont a bon marche, 
 Le reste s'en fait, a coup sur !
 
 186 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 C'est pourquoi, a la Providence divine, 
 Je rends grace de n' avoir plus d'attente ; 
 Evitant de I'espoir les qui-pro-quos, 
 La sante, et la sagesse augmente. 
 
 En quels soucis ! la vie se passe ! 
 
 De ceux qui du bonheur ont soin ; 
 
 Courage ! done Malheureux ! puisque sans contredit, 
 
 Le vrai bonheur, coutiste a n'avoir point !' * 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! le vrai bonheur consiste a 
 rC avoir point ! Ce qui met, le bonheur a la 
 portee de tout le monde !" laughed Killigrew. 
 
 '' Then," thought Gilbert, though he did not 
 say it, " at that rate I should be the happiest 
 fellow alive !" but he only joined in the laugh of 
 his companions, and then said he must leave 
 them, as he had an appointment, for which he 
 was already late. 
 
 ■ " Farewell, my dear fellow !" said Killigrew, 
 pulling an exaggeratedly long face, putting his 
 handkerchief to his eyes, and affecting to cry ; 
 *' farewell ! may every misery attend you, so as 
 that you may possess real happiness ! and au 
 revoir. au Chateau des Tristes Apattes du Deses- 
 poir !" 
 
 '•'' And don't forget to go and see Nell,'' cried 
 Mr. Pepys, screaming a postscript after him as 
 he was hurrying away across the Park. 
 
 * If I knew the name of the modern author of these clever 
 lines, I would apologise to him or her for ante-dating them a 
 couple of centuries. But, like Moliere in that, though unfortu- 
 nately in nothing else — '* Je prends mon bien partout oil je le 
 trouve— G. G. S."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 187 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LOVE, LAW, AND PHYSIC. 
 
 10 soon as Gilbert Broderick had 
 escaped from what might literally 
 be called his "gossips," he sped 
 along like an arrow, quitting the 
 Park near Spring Garden, and never stopping 
 till he reached his lodgings in Pall Mall, or, as 
 it was called at that time, "The Pell Mell." 
 The door was opened by his landlady, whom he 
 saluted with a courteous, "Thank you; and 
 good morning, Mrs. Swinburn," and then cleared 
 the stairs four at a time, till he reached his bed- 
 room, where he closed the door after him, and 
 turned the key in the lock ; but had no sooner 
 done so (forgetting, however, to lock the other 
 door that led into his sitting-room), than his 
 big Mount St. Bernard dog, Monk, who was ly- 
 ing on the floor beside his bed, and his little pet 
 spaniel, Charley, who had made a luxurious nest 
 for himself in the very midst of the down pillow, 
 covered with a fine laced-frilled pillow case, that 
 Mrs. Swinburn always placed on the outside of
 
 188 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 '' her lady's and gentlemen's beds," as a sample 
 of tlie snowy and dainty linen to be found with- 
 in ; now both sprang to his embrace, Monk, with 
 his huge paws, upon his shoulders — Charlie, at 
 one bound off of the pillow into his arms, with 
 all the little canine hysterics, caressing greetings, 
 and desperate efforts to speak— that is, to speak 
 with human i)arlance, which is so touching in 
 their true and loving race. Of course, the little 
 long silken-eared, wondrous, meteoric-eyed, 
 beauty was called '-'- Charlie," for that name for 
 dogs at that time was as plentiful as daisies ; 
 and, to do the King justice, he was both pleased 
 at, and proud of it. 
 
 *^ So, ho ! my fine fellows," said Gilbert, alter- 
 nately petting and patting them both, " there 
 are dark days in store for us ; a horrid ship, with 
 all its abominations ! for you, my dainty Charlie, 
 and a broiling tropical sun for you, my poor 
 hardy Mountaineer Monk ! But, for all that, 
 we won't part, will we, old friends ?" 
 
 " Part ! I should think not, indeed ; that 
 would be an infamous shame !'* said both the 
 dogs, as plainly as one pair of large luminous, 
 bright black diamond 'eyes, and another pair of 
 wise, earnest brown ones, could say it. 
 
 " No— no ; I knew you'd say so. Good dog ! 
 — good fellow ! Down, Monk,'^ and the next 
 moment the faithful creature had again stretched
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 189 
 
 himself at full length on the floor beside his 
 master's bed, only this time, instead of lying on 
 his side, with outstretched four feet to sleep, he 
 lay flat upon his stomach, placing his handsome 
 black nose between his two brown fore paws, 
 which is a dog^s way of putting on his consider- 
 ing cap. 
 
 "i^nd you, Charlie, must go to by-bye again, 
 like a good child, for I am very wretched, and 
 have much to think of," said he, appealing to the 
 little creature, as he still tried to cling round 
 his master's neck, who took him with a gentle 
 force and laid him again on the pillow, as ten- 
 derly as if it had been an infant. After which, 
 he took ofi" his hat, laid it on the bed, and flung 
 his gloves beside it, which he had no sooner done, 
 than Charlie, looking half askance towards his 
 master, as if in fear of being forbidden, left his 
 downy nest stealthily, and went and laid upon 
 them. For all dogs are Romeos with regard to 
 the gloves, or any other thing that has touched 
 those they love. The greetings over, and the 
 three friends once more silent, two of them being 
 perfectly satisfied, now that they saw all they 
 cared for had come safely back to them — Gilbert 
 threw himself into a large high-backed arm- 
 chair, covered his face with his hands, and 
 groaned aloud. His first thought was of 
 Dorothy ; he must see her, to break the tidings
 
 190 Clumber Chase. 1070. 
 
 of his banisliment to lier, that she might not hear 
 it with all imaginable false additions and mis- 
 constructions. And if he could in no way con- 
 trive a means of seeing her, there was Master 
 Hartsfoot ; he would write the truth to him to 
 tell her. Oh ! blessed Providence that had 
 brought them acquainted. 
 
 His next thought was of his good, his kind, his 
 unselfish, his dearly loved aunt, Phillida ; at all 
 events, thank heaven, to her he could and would 
 write freely, and minutely, and would pour out, 
 without let or hindrance, the bitter flood of un- 
 toward fate that was sinking his heart. But after 
 these two paramount thoughts, of slight pallia- 
 tion, the terrible reality which he must wrestle 
 with always came to the surface. Four years' 
 banishment — a semi-eternity I What might not 
 haj)pen in half that time ? Would Dorothy wait 
 for him ? — that is, would she be let to wait ? and 
 even if she did, and if she was, what might she 
 be waiting for ? perhaps a phantom ; lor might he 
 not be killed where carnage was being so plenti- 
 fully distributed ? and even if he escaped lead 
 and " cold iron," still how many had already 
 succumbed to the climate ; and what right had 
 he to hope that he would be one of the exceptions ? 
 Well, be it how it might, God was there as well 
 as here ; the issues not only of life and death, 
 but of all other things, whether great or small.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 191 
 
 were in His hands, and His will be done; and 
 though he did not then kneel, he nevertheless 
 prayed with that fervour of sincerity and devo- 
 tion, with which only the '^ weary and heavy 
 laden " do pray, to Him who has invited them to 
 come to Him, and who has promised to " give 
 them rest." " My God," said Gilbert Broderick, 
 lifting up his eyes, and joining his hands in 
 supplication, " Thy will be done, but with the 
 struggle, send the strength ; with the trial, the 
 patience; with. the submission, the grace." And 
 much as he loved his Aunt Phillida for whatever 
 else she had done for him, he loved her best of all 
 for having early taught him to ^' pray always." 
 " You should do so," she would say, " as a 
 matter of gratitude to God, from whom alone all 
 good comes, or can come ; and you should do so 
 as a matter of necessity ; for had you all the 
 powerful monarchs of the earth for your friends, 
 their power, or even their inclination to serve you, 
 can only come from Him. Besides, earthly friends 
 are not always there, God is. They too, may be 
 false, or may change ; God never is the one, or 
 ever does the other. The nearest and dearest 
 friend does not know your whole heart ; all its 
 yearnings and all its necessities ; all the evil it 
 has yielded to, and aU that it has resisted ; God 
 does, better than you yourself can. For which 
 reason God is even more merciful to us than we
 
 192 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 are to ourselves, because His knowledge and His 
 power are both infinite ; we have neither know- 
 ledge nor power, therefore it is we are unjust, 
 even to ourselves. Oh ! my dear child, learn 
 then to trusty where you cannot trace. Who can ? 
 — for truly ^ God's ways are past finding out,' 
 at least to such poor finite ephemera as we are ; 
 who, at most, only see the knottings, hitchings, 
 and crossings, on the reverse or wrong side of 
 His stupendous work ! which has eternity for its 
 woof, and all Time for its warp.'.' It was now, 
 in his hour of trial, that Gilbert recalled these 
 lifelong exhortations of one he so dearly loved, 
 and so profoundly respected. The hours, the 
 times, the places, all came vividly before him ; he 
 again saw the deep, earnest, anxious, loving eyes 
 looking into his ; heard the gentle persuasive 
 voice, and felt the little warm, fragile, satiny 
 hand, whose pressure, like an incarnate blessing, 
 emphasized every word. What points are to 
 Hebrew, giving to each word not only its weight 
 and value, but even its peculiar shade of mean- 
 ing, these looks, and tones, and touches of those 
 we love, are to the words they utter, at once de- 
 termining their worth, and impressing them upon 
 our hearts. And, as his memory evoked them all, 
 Gilbert answered her as if she had been there, 
 corporeally present. '•^ No, dear best of friends, 
 your child, your pupil will not be a coward ; he
 
 1670. Clamber Chase. 
 
 will don that spiritual armour wrought from the 
 arsenal of God's word, which alone can guard 
 him through the battle of life, and which your 
 precept and example have kept so bright with 
 constant use." And as he pondered all these 
 things his heart became less troubled, his pulse 
 calmer, his nerves more braced ! ^' Yes," thought 
 he, rising and walking up and down the room, 
 " faire ce qui doit, advient ce que pent ? X^est 
 ce pas, chers amis?" and he pulled an ear of 
 both dogs as he passed the four eyes that had 
 been following his every step. As he turned to 
 resume his perambulations, the sitting-room door 
 opened, and Ferrol, his servant, was about to enter, 
 but seeing his master, was going to beat a re- 
 treat, with an^ — 
 
 '^ 1 beg pardon, sir ; I was not aware you had 
 come in. I only came to take the dogs their 
 walk." 
 
 '•'Oh! don't go, Ferrol, I'm very glad you 
 are come ; I had something to say to you, and 
 the sooner it is said the better," added Gilbert, 
 re-seating himself, and making the tips of his 
 fingers meet in a sort of courorme fermee, as 
 Queen Elizabeth is said to have done when 
 speechless on her death-bed, to indicate that 
 she wished James the First to be her successor. 
 
 " How should you like, Ferrol, to go to Tan- 
 
 er ?" 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ^^ Tangier, sir ?" interrogated Ferrol, with 
 much the same expression of face that he might 
 have assumed had the query been, " How would 
 you like to go to The Tower, via Traitor's Gate ? 
 or to Little Ease ? or to The Gate House ? The 
 Porter's Lodge ? or the Blackhole at Calcutta?" 
 or any other place not exactly celebrated for 
 eligibility or comfort. 
 
 ^^Yes, Tangier." 
 
 " Why, sir, that would depend upon circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " Exactly so ; and I don't think, under any 
 circumstances, T should be justified in taking 
 you away from your friends, and asking you to 
 go to such a place" 
 
 '' My God, sir, have I done anything to dis- 
 please you, that you would not take me?" 
 
 And the poor fellow's voice was tremulous 
 with emotion. 
 
 '' Displease me ! No, Ferrol, it is because you 
 please me so well, and I like you so much, and 
 think you in every way such a good, honest fel- 
 low, that I consider you worthy of a better fate. 
 There's my Lord Rochester, who has just mar- 
 ried the rich Mrs. Mallet, he is in want of a 
 valet ; and if you liked it, I can, I'm sure, most 
 heartily and conscientiously recommend you." 
 
 Ferrol's face, which had been radiant at the 
 beginning of this speech, became suddenly over-
 
 1G70. Clumber Chase. 195 
 
 cast at tlie conclusion of it, as lie replied, in a 
 hurt and aggrieved tone — 
 
 " As for serving my Lord Eochester, or any 
 of those Court sparks, I would not do it, sir, if I 
 was to be made Lord Treasurer for my pains. If 
 you choose to turn me away, I cannot help it, sir 
 — for, of course, I have no right to dispute your 
 will ; but if you merely refer the matter to my 
 option, sir, all I've to say is, that where you go, 
 III gor 
 
 Gilbert was more than touched by this proof of 
 affection and fidelity, and so he told him, adding, 
 however — 
 
 '• But, upon my word, Ferrol, glad as I shall 
 be to have you — or rather on that very account — 
 it seems to me horridly like taking advantage of 
 your good qualities to let you go with me to such 
 a detestable place; and then there's the voyage — 
 I might be shipwrecked !" 
 
 ^' Well, sir, even if it came to that — which, God 
 forbid ! — I suppose there is room for trco at the 
 bottom of the sea ?" 
 
 " And you would not mind going there with 
 me?" 
 
 And Gilbert's eyes filled with tears as he con- 
 trasted this great love of his servant with the 
 total want of it in his father. 
 
 '^ I should think so, sir," was Ferrol's reply. 
 " In fact there is only one place I would not go 
 
 K %
 
 196 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 to with, or for you ; and as I am very certain you 
 will never go tJiere, I need not give myself any 
 trouble about it. Whereas, if I lived with my 
 Lord Rochester^ or any of the rest of them, that's 
 the very place where they'd want me to go, or 
 drive me to it. Then, sir, there are the poor 
 dogs ; though yoic might do very well without 
 me, they could not — for I know and understand 
 all their ways, and Pm certain no one could valet 
 them so much to their satisfaction as I do. May 
 I ask, sir, when you intend to sail — that is, by 
 what time I am to have the things ready?" 
 
 '•' My Lord Dartmouth is to sail, I understand, 
 in about six weeks." 
 
 " Oh I And it is in his suite you are going, 
 sir?" asked Ferrol, jDulling his right ear. 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 And then, coupled with the sudden over-cloud- 
 ing of his master's face, Ferrol knew that this 
 Tangier expedition was some fresh tyranny of 
 Sir Allen's, and in the depths of his heart gave 
 him a benediction — as witches are said to say 
 theu' prayers — backwards. 
 
 And then he began very busily arranging the 
 things on his master's toilet, which really was a 
 work of supererogation, seeing that he had al- 
 ready put them in perfect and most symmetrical 
 order two hours before, and no one had touched 
 them since. At length, when he could 7iot — like
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 197 
 
 a non-plussed Prime Minister — invent any new 
 combinations, lie espied liis master's hat on the 
 bed, which clearly was no proper place for it. 
 Unfortunately felt — particularly the grey and 
 bruwn felt then worn — requires no brushing, but 
 the velvet band did, and the feathers ; it was as- 
 tonishing how much he found to do to them, and 
 how minutely he investigated them, as if he had 
 formed the design of superceding all the jDlumas- 
 siers in London. At last, he walked up to Gil- 
 bert, still holding the hat, and giving the feathers 
 two or three gentle su23j)lementary flips, and said, 
 with considerable hesitation and embarrass- 
 ment — 
 
 '•^I ask you a thousand pardons, sir, and I do 
 hope, that with your usual kindness and conde- 
 scension, sir, you will excuse what I fear is tak- 
 ing a great liberty — though, indeed, / dortt mean 
 it as sack — but you see, sir, being nearly double 
 your age, and knowing the world and all its 
 crooked ways, and dirty blind alleys and cut 
 throat lanes, better than so young a gentleman 
 in your sphere of life can possibly do, on account 
 of never having had your wits sharpened on the 
 whetstone of necessity, like common people's 
 children, and, so I know — pray, don't be angr}^, 
 sir — though it seems a liberty, indeed — indeed, it 
 is not, I do assure you ; but I know, sir^ how 
 short of money persons of quality will often keep
 
 198 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 tlieir children, more especially their heirs, that 
 must have all after thern. And I have a matter 
 of £839 that has been hampering and worrying 
 me these three years, ever since my poor father 
 died, and the produce of the farm was divided 
 amongst the three of us ; and if you noidd^ sir, 
 only make use of it, it would be such a relief to 
 my mind — it would, indeed, sir; for it's lying 
 doing nothing, and truly idleness, whether for 
 money or men, is the root of all evil. And, oh ! 
 sir, for Heaven's sake — for mercy's sake, dorCt 
 go to those money lenders, who not only take all 
 the flesh off your bones, but all the marrow out 
 of them, till they leave you as bleached and as 
 bare as a hundred year old skeleton. But, clo^ 
 sir, in addition to all your others, confer this one 
 more great favour upon me. You shall never 
 find me ungratefal for it, nor encroach upon it ; 
 indeed, you sha'n't, sir." 
 
 And having blurted out the latter part of this 
 speech so rapidly, Ferrol at length paused, from 
 sheer want of breath. 
 
 Gilbert was so taken by surprise, and so 
 unfeignedly grateful for the poor fellow's disin- 
 terested generosity, and so touched by the true 
 delicacy of feeling, that ran like a golden thread 
 through his blunt speech, that he seized his 
 hand and shook it cordially, as he said, ^' God 
 bless youj Ferrol, for your kindness ; I almost
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 199 
 
 wisli that 1 7vas in want of money. It would be 
 sucli a real pleasure to accept of help so gener- 
 ously and freely offered ; but I do assure you, 
 that want of money forms no part of my dis- 
 tresses just now. However, to complete the 
 catalogue, perhaps, even that may come ; 
 and should it do so, I promise you I'll not 
 forget the good friend who can and will help 
 me. But, fortunately, my poor mother's £600 a 
 year is settled on me." 
 
 " I humbly thank you, sir," said Ferrol, bow- 
 ing as lowly over his master's hat as if it had 
 been his own; ^^ and if you will only forget the 
 great liberty my fears led me to take, I never 
 shall forget, sir, your goodness in so nobly con- 
 doning it." 
 
 Gilbert was about to reiterate the real grati- 
 tude he felt to him, when he heard a knock at 
 the bedroom door ; remembering he had locked 
 it, he now went to it and opened it. It was Mrs. 
 Swinburne, to say that a gentleman, one Master 
 Fairbrace, of Clifford's Inn, was in the drawing- 
 room, and wished particularly to see him. Gril- 
 bert really did not want any thanks for saving 
 Master Fairbrace from supping with the fishes, 
 and devoutly wished that, at aU events, the poor 
 man's gratitude had gone to the bottom of the 
 Thames, that he might have had the rest of this 
 day to himself, as he was in no humour for com-
 
 200 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 panionship of any kind; still, as the landlady 
 had owned he was at home, he felt it would be 
 ungracious to refuse to see him; so he desired 
 Mrs. Swinburne to say that he would go to Mr. 
 Fairbrace immediately, and turning to Ferrol, 
 said — 
 
 " Now, my good fellow, you can take the dogs 
 out." 
 
 '' Come, Monk, my man ! Come, Charlie, my 
 fine fellow I Now the Mall, and then din- 
 ner!" And the next moment Monk, with his 
 fine noble basso, and Charlie, with his shrill 
 tenor, were bounding and barking down the 
 stairs before him ; while Gilbert, by the other 
 door, walked into the drawing-room, where he 
 found Jambres Fairbrace, a ruddy, regular- 
 featured, good-looking man, of about fifty , 
 dressed— as befitted his calling — in scrupulously 
 new, glossy, fine black broad cloth, a large linen 
 collar, with plain white cord and tassels, such as 
 the Puritans were wont to wear ; for sooth to say^ 
 the firm of Fairbrace and Evanshaw, of Cliff'ord's 
 Inn, had been the legal advisers of the Protector. 
 Eis partially grey hair — still more black than 
 grey — was parted down the centre, and hung 
 down straight over his ears, terminating in the 
 faintest suspicion of a curl. And albeit lawyer 
 though he was, there was a singularly honest 
 expression in his whole countenance, more espe-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 201 
 
 cially in his clear, large, keen grey eyes, where 
 an occasionally merry twinkle shot from them 
 with meteoric brio'htness and swiftness. His 
 voice was so mellow, round, and perfectly modu- 
 lated, that had he been a barrister, instead of a 
 scrivener, it would have been quite sufficient 
 ultimately to have led him to the woolsack, even 
 had no other voice seconded it. When young 
 Broderick entered, he rose from his seat, and 
 first making him three profound bows where he 
 stood, as if to royalty itself, he then walked over, 
 and in continuation of this courtly routine, took 
 the young man's hand, which he kissed, say- 
 inu — 
 
 '' From the number of days which have elapsed 
 since the night on which you saved my life, Mr. 
 Broderick, you must have thought me one of the 
 greatest ingrates that ever lived, even for a 
 dabbler in the black art ! but the fact is, that 
 ever since, I have, till yesterday, been confined 
 to my bed with a severe attack of ague, and this 
 is my first day out." 
 
 " I fear," said Gilbert, " that you had to stay 
 too long in your wet clothes ; now, a good 
 Samaritan seized upon me, and made me go 
 instantly into a warm bed ; so I escaped all 
 cold." 
 
 " I'm glad of that," rejoined Fairbrace ; " but 
 I deserved to have suffered ten times more for 
 
 K 5
 
 202 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 my folly. I had some rather pressing business, 
 and took water at Blackfriar's Bridge, and not 
 finding my usual boatman there, I thought I 
 could manage the craft with a pair of oars my- 
 self; so, leaving word with one of the watermen 
 to tell Thompson, the owner of the wherry, that 
 I had done so, I jumped in and pushed off, but 
 soon found the boat had sprung a leak ; in fact, 
 the plug had been left out ! So that, but for 
 your generous rescue, Mr. Broderick, death was 
 inevitable. Obligations, such as these, sir, can 
 never be either adequately acknowledged or re- 
 paid, but they can be gratefully remembered. 
 The mouse and the lion is a good fable, with a 
 good moral ; and all I can say is, that so long 
 as it lasts, the life you saved is at your service, 
 not only for gnawing nets and toils asunder — for 
 which lawyer's teeth are the only one's sharp 
 enough, and which is my trade — but in every, 
 and any other way, ^/9?z-professionally, that such 
 very humble individuals as I and my family can 
 serve you. Pray, sir, remember that you have 
 always a whole family of grateful mice, devoted 
 to your service." 
 
 " Really, sir, you quite overwhelm me, and 
 make too much of the assistance I was fortunate 
 enough to render you, considering how very fond 
 of swimming I am." 
 
 " And you, sir, make too little of it; for, how-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 203 
 
 ever fond you may be of swimming, I scarcely 
 think you would select the muddiest part of the 
 Thames at night, with all your clothes on, to 
 indulge in the recreation !" 
 
 " Who knov>rs ?" laughed Gilbert ; " variety is 
 charming." 
 
 " Ah ! then," said Fairbrace, with the merry 
 twinkle coruscating from the corners of both 
 eyes, '' we will leave it so, and suppose that I 
 am out of the question, and that you only meant 
 it as a hint to the fish, always to be well 
 dressed!" 
 
 Gilbert laughed very heartily at this sally, and 
 felt himself considerably warming towards his 
 new acquaintance, whose frankness and geniality 
 were after his own heart. After they had con- 
 versed for half an hour longer upon the topics of 
 the day, the lawyer looked at a very correct 
 model of a warming-pan in gold, that had been 
 the gift of the Protector, and declared he was 
 not aware it had been so late — nearly one — and 
 he must go, as he had an appointment to dine at 
 The French House, in Charing Cross, with a 
 friend, adding — 
 
 '^ But can I be of any use as to letters or par- 
 cels to the country, where I go next week on 
 business to one or two of our clients ?" 
 
 " What part of the country ?"
 
 204 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Wliy, first to rinborongh, to Sir Charles 
 Pettiward's." 
 
 " Oil ! then, you are going into Suffolk ?" 
 
 *' Yes ; and Norfolk, and after, into Yorkshire/' 
 
 " Would it be trespassing too much upon your 
 kindness, or rather upon your time, to ask you 
 to leave a packet, somewhat too large to risk by 
 post, at my Aunt Miss Broderick's, Clumber 
 Chase ?" 
 
 " Not a bit — not a bit ; Clumber Chase is not 
 a stone's throw, as the crow flies, from Fin- 
 borough. And were the packet as big as White- 
 hall, so much the better, for I have the same 
 passion for carrying packages as big as houses 
 as you have for swimming in the muddiest part 
 of the Thames, in full dress, late at night." 
 
 Gilbert laughed, thanked and shook his new 
 friend cordially by the hand, saying, as he con- 
 ducted him to the head of the stairs — '^ I sincerely 
 hope you will have no return of your ague, but 
 it you should, do try a pill made of common cob- 
 web ; I have known it do wonders." 
 
 ^'Thanks, I will; but my wife's jibes, now 
 that I have got well, and she over her fright, 
 are worse than all. She had the impertinence 
 to say to me this very morning, ' Oh ! Jambres, 
 you a man of law, and to enter into a concern 
 that wouldn't hold water !' "
 
 1670. Clumher Chase. 205 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'LL archaeologist though he was, Oliver 
 Hartsfoot did not allow himself to 
 be so engaged with the dead and 
 gone (though it must be confessed 
 that he preferred their company , as to neglect 
 or forget the living and the going. What a 
 blessed thing it is that true sympathy, like its 
 twin virtue true charity, is of unlimited elasticity; 
 otherwise, it would be very apt to snap, from 
 the constant strain upon it from misery to 
 misery, wide as the poles asunder, which brush 
 against it at every turn in this moiling, toiling, 
 work-a-day world. All who have dealt largely 
 and practically — that is wholesale and retail, in 
 the trials, sufferings, wants, reverses, injustice, 
 and oppressions, endured by their fellow crea- 
 tures, putting their own share of these things 
 out of the question, are fully aware — and none 
 knew this better than Master Hartsfoot — 
 that every-day life furnishes at once more ter- 
 rible tragedies than ever were represented on any
 
 206 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 stage, and more improbable romances tban fic- 
 tion ever dared to invent. He also knew the 
 terrible amount of anonymous and inedited 
 wretchedness there is which requires to be 
 sought out: the thousands who, " dig they can- 
 not, and to beg are ashamed ;" and who, not 
 coming within the daily routine of orthodox 
 charity, recognised pauperism, and accredited 
 distress, — 
 
 •* Live, as Saints have died, Martyrs," 
 
 without professional and paraded philanthropy 
 taking any cognizance of them. Among these 
 latter, and their name is Legion, was poor 
 Wenceslaus Hollar^ whose talent had earned him 
 a European reputation, and whose industry should 
 have furnished him with a clue to El Dorado, to 
 say nothing of his great patrons, who, if they 
 befriended him at all, should at least have done 
 it effectually ; but patronage in high places 
 always was, and it is to be feared always will be, 
 a most piecemeal and homoeopathic affair. 
 Therefore, woe and disappointment are the divi- 
 dends of all those who invest their capital of 
 HOPE in it. And if " the beginning of anger is 
 like the letting out of water," verily, the begin- 
 ning of poverty, if not promptly and effectually 
 arrested, is like the opening of a floodgate and 
 the rushing in of water, whose torrent it becomes
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 207 
 
 impossible to stem. Oliver Hartsfoot felt this 
 80 deeply with regard to poor Hollar's chronic 
 difficulties, that he greatly regretted that he was 
 not sufficiently rich to offer him, and about 
 twenty more equally badly off, a home in his 
 own house, though for that matter, to rescue all 
 he felt for, instead of his modest locale dX " Funny 
 Joe's Corner," he would have required all the 
 palaces, barracks, and hospitals in Europe, joined 
 into ONE, with Fortunatus's purse for his trea- 
 sury. However, " he did what he could." And 
 oh I if only every one would do likewise what a 
 different world this would be ; and without wait- 
 ing for that inalienable heritage, the grate, how 
 soon '•'* the wicked would cease from troubling, and 
 the weary be at rest." 
 
 Among other efforts to serve him, he was al- 
 ways giving Hollar commissions for original 
 drawings. His last had been for a series of etch- 
 ings of scenes taken during the Great Fire and 
 the Plague, as well as a larger than the original 
 edition of Hollar's " OEXATrs, Muliebeis An^gli- 
 CAxus." And having received neither, though 
 bespoken six months back, he feared the poor 
 artist was again struggling in one of his scarcely 
 ever ceasing hand to hand fights, with that most 
 brutal and overwhelming of all athletes, Poveety! 
 So though the day was not over fine, and the 
 gathering clouds seemed to threaten rain, he
 
 208 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 tliouglit he would walk down to poor Hollar's 
 ricketty tenement in Axe Yard, and see how he 
 was, and how the etchings were getting on ; but 
 he first took out of his escretoire a small leather 
 bag, containing fifty Jacobuses, which he had set 
 apart for their intended price, but wisely thought 
 that perhaps for the want of their presence a little 
 sooner, poor Hollar might be finished before the 
 drawings, for 7io '' evil was ever wrought for the 
 want of thought" on the part of Oliver Hartsfoot. 
 
 He had not got further than Westminster 
 Abbey when he met Mr. Evelyn, who stopped 
 and spoke to him, full, like everyone else, of the 
 terrible and disgraceful state of affairs ; the way 
 everything was bought, sold, and neglected. 
 
 " Only think," said he, " it was not disgrace 
 enough to us to let the Dutch take Sheerness, 
 but in our blundering and confusion, and want 
 of all organisation and head, we have sunk be- 
 low Woolwich some of the king's ships, with con- 
 siderable stores — the Franklin for one, and 
 another laden to the value of eighty thousand 
 pounds, and the people are in such a state of 
 revolt and disgust that they have cut down the 
 trees before the Lord Chancellor's house, broken 
 the windows, and erected a gibbet with this in- 
 cription upon it — " Three sights to be seen, Dun- 
 kirk, Tangier, and a barren Queen." And the 
 Chancellor was insulted yesterday in Westmin-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 209 
 
 ster Hall, about his Dunkirk House, and tkey 
 say tliere are regiments ordered to be got to- 
 gether to be commanded by Fairfax, Ingoldsby, 
 Bethell, Norton, Birch, and other Presbyterians, 
 and that Dr. Bates will be at liberty to preach. 
 Xow whether this be true or not I cannot say, 
 but I really think nothing but this can knit us 
 together eyen for a time." 
 
 '^ Surely/' said Hartsfoot, ^^ the King will not 
 be so insane, or listen to such ill adyisers, as not 
 tj summon Parliament at such a terrible crisis ?" 
 
 " What can you expect with a Lord Chancellor 
 who will do nothing but for money, and who, 
 when the King consulted him about doing so the 
 other day, replied — ' Tut, tut I Queen Elizabeth 
 got yery well out of her troubles in eighty-eight 
 without summoning a Parliament.' And Mr. 
 Povey, whom I met yesterday, told me that what 
 hath really undone the nation was the Luke of 
 York haying made an honest woman of Ann 
 Hyde, who is not eyen faithful to him. She is 
 carrying on such a game with both young Sidney 
 and young Sayille, which the Duke perceiyes, and 
 they haye not spoken for a fortnight. Mr. Poyey 
 also told me that, besides her imperious insolence, 
 her extrayagance is unbounded, and though the 
 Duke's income is sixty thousand a year, she neyer 
 spends less than eighty thousand, so that he (Mr. 
 Poyey) thought it his duty to carry this account
 
 210 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 to my Lord Chancellor, and asked his opinion if 
 it should not, in fairness to the country, be brought 
 before the Privy Council ? But my Lord Claren- 
 don, who only thought of screening his daughter's 
 shortcomings, replied that ' no man who loved 
 the king or kingdom would own to the writing 
 of that document' Poor Mr. Povey was startled 
 at this, and feared he was undone by his honesty, 
 so that he found it necessary then to show the 
 statement to the Duke of York's Commissioners, 
 who read, examined, and approved of it, so as to 
 cause it to be put into form, signed it, and 
 gave it to the Duke,^ and with such a profligate 
 Court and such self-seeking and family ties, and 
 hushing up of family delinquencies everywhere, 
 who can wonder that the country is going to de- 
 struction, and that we have become a laughing 
 stock and a bye-word to all other nations ? I 
 understand the King of France (Louis the Four- 
 teenth) said last week that as the Dutch were 
 nibbling at this country and taking it by bits he 
 did not see why he should not take his cousin of 
 England's kingdom outright by a coup de main, 
 and Paris is full of caricatures of our king. The 
 last is his being led with a blue ribband, like a 
 dog, by Lady Castlemaine, while all his pockets 
 
 * The Commissioners for regulating tlie Duke of York's — after- 
 wards James the Second — affairs in 1667, were John Lord 
 Berkeley, Colonel Robert Werden, and Colonel Anthony Eyre. 
 — Household Book at AiuHey-End.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 211 
 
 are turned completely inside out, to show tlieir 
 perfect and literal emptiness." 
 
 '' It is indeed shocking," said Hartsfoot, '^ and 
 fortunate that we have even one honest, con- 
 scientious clergyman who does^ and does not 
 shrink from his duty, for I hear that last Sunday 
 at Whitehall, Dr. Creeton preached before the 
 King a terribly denunciatory sermon against the 
 vices of the Coui't and the habitual breach of the 
 Seventh Commandment." 
 
 '^ For which in France Dr. Creeton would have 
 been called a Cretin^ considering the sort of 
 Archbishop of Canterbury"^ we have, who keeps 
 as many mistresses — I won't say as the King, for 
 he at least never has but one at a time — but as 
 that unredeemed vaurien^ the Duke of York. It 
 seems Sir Charles Sedley ran away with one of 
 the Archbishop's sultanas the other day, where- 
 upon that veracious prelate wrote to Sir Charles 
 complaining of the outrage; as the lady was a 
 relation of his, the Archbishop felt bound to pro- 
 tect her honour, to which Sir Charles Sedley 
 made just such an answer as might have been 
 expected of him; however, it had the desired 
 effect of quelling his Grace's chivalric punctilio 
 about his ' relative's ' honour." 
 
 ^' The poor King ! I am really sorry for him," 
 
 * Dr. Gilbert Shelden.
 
 212 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 said Hartsfootj '' for I think he has some redeem- 
 ing points." 
 
 " Unquestionably he has, but for that accursed 
 and all demordlising weakness of character which 
 is a moral dry rot that not only undermines any- 
 thing like virtue or principle in those afflicted 
 with it, but fructifies every vice and evil deed in 
 others, and yet he is not wanting in good coun- 
 cillors either ; at least, in persons who, like him- 
 self— 
 
 ' Never say a foolish tiling, and never do a wise one,' 
 
 for it was only the other day he was speaking 
 with unfeigned contempt and indignation of the 
 Duke of York being so mastered by his wife, and 
 added that he (the King) would go no more abroad 
 with such a Tom Otter -^ he should be ashamed to 
 be seen with him, whereupon, Tom Killigrew be- 
 ing by, said, ' Sir, pray which is the best for a 
 man to be, a Tom Otter to his wife or to his mis- 
 tresses ?' But I do pity the poor King, to see 
 how he is preyed upon, not only by those worth- 
 less women, but by all the other vultures and 
 harpies by whom he is surrounded. As one in- 
 stance among a hundred, I asked Mr. Townshend 
 the other day if it was true what I had heard with 
 
 * In the play of " Epicine, or the Silent Woman," Mrs. Otter 
 thus addr^^sses her henpecked husband - Thomas Otter. * ' Is this 
 according to the instrument when I married you, that I would be 
 princess and reign in my own house, and you would be my sub- 
 ject and obey me ?" — Act III., Scene I.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 213 
 
 great indignation from good, honest, loyal old 
 Asliburnham, to wit, that the King now had 
 literally no pockethandkerchiefs, and only three 
 neck -bands (cravats, or collars), and as many 
 shirts, adding that the king his father, would have 
 hanged his wardrobe man had he dared to treat 
 him so. Mr. Townshend said he regretted to 
 say that it was only too true, but the reason of it 
 was, that those vile rapacious grooms of the 
 bedchamber every quarter enforced their per- 
 quisites, and carried off all the King's linen, not 
 caring how he was put to his shifts, or rather put 
 to doing without them ; and that as the linen- 
 draper was already owed five thousand pounds, 
 which there was not much chance of his being 
 paid, he (Mr. Townshend) really could not order 
 the poor K ing a fresh supply. ^ ow without for 
 one moment wishing to palliate that part of the 
 King's life in which he only too closely emulates 
 King David, and which in the case of the latter 
 brought down a curse upon all Judea, as I fear it 
 will also do upon these realms, yet I cannot 
 but admire that, unlike most husbands, while 
 wronging her so essentially, he is so invariably 
 kind, considerate, and respectful to the queen, 
 really, in all other things, not only consulting, 
 but anticipating her every wish ; so that no won- 
 der that, despite all, she really loves him." 
 
 "Well," said Hartsfoot, "when men have
 
 214 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 what I am sorry to say may emphatically be called 
 the vices of gentlemen, it is a redeeming point 
 that they should also have the manners of gentle- 
 men, and not brutalise their wives as well as out- 
 rage them. I can only again say that I hope the 
 king will, at this terrible crisis, summon a Parlia- 
 ment."* 
 
 ^'Yoi^ Old bono? if it is only for the king to 
 snap his fingers at them, as he did the last time, 
 dismissing them even without a ' thank you ' the 
 very first day they were assembled ; and it's 
 neither so easyt nor so pleasant for men to come 
 two and three hundred miles and more, at great 
 cost and personal inconvenience, merely to be 
 laughed at, as it were. So I suppose we have 
 no alternative but to go on in this pull-baker, 
 pull-devil style, between my Lord Chancellor and 
 my Lady Castlemaine. I hear that my Lord 
 Clarendon lately stopped some grant of two 
 thousand a year to my Lord Grandison, Lady 
 Castlemaine's uncle, which so incensed her, that 
 she sent him (the Chancellor) a most insolent 
 
 * At that time, and long before, in the time of the Tudors, 
 Parliament was not the sort of permanent institution it now is, 
 convening and proroguing itself according to the exigences of the 
 country, or the straits ot the Prime Minister, but was more an 
 occasional sort of spurt to be evoked or dismissed, at the pleasure 
 or caprice of the sovereign, and did not as now regularly and 
 periodically meet for " the dispatch" (or delay) of business, being 
 alternately prorogued and re-rogued. 
 
 t Travelling two or three hundred miles in those days certainly 
 was a greater undertaking than dining at the Equator and supping 
 at the Korth Pole is in our times.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 215 
 
 message, in her broadest style^ and we all know 
 what that is; and the king calls him ^the insolent 
 man/ and says that he will not let him speak for 
 himself in Council, which is carrying matters 
 with a very high hand, and shows my poor Lord 
 Chancellor to be in a bad way, unless he can de- 
 fend himself better than people think he can. 
 Yet his son, my Lord Cornbury, says his father 
 longs for the meeting of Parliament for his own 
 vindication much more than any of his enemies 
 long for it. God grant his expectations as to the 
 results may be justified, but he has indefatigable 
 enemies — in the Castlemaine the chief, — for some 
 grant coming to him the other day to be sealed, 
 which the king had given Lady Castlemaine, the 
 Chancellor refused to assent to it, saying he 
 thought this woman would sell everything in the 
 kingdom shortly ; and this coming to her ears, 
 she sent to him to say that his refusal was of no 
 avail as she had disposed of this place, and had 
 no doubt that in a short time she would be able 
 to dispose of his (the Chancellor's) place also. 
 Bless me," added Mr. Evelyn, " there are the 
 Abbey chimes striking three. I must say good- 
 bye." 
 
 So they shook hands and went their different 
 ways. When Oliver Hartsfoot reached Axe 
 Yard he found the well-known heavy weather- 
 blistered door of Hollar's house in the corner
 
 216 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 neither oj)en nor shut ; that is, it was apparently 
 closed, but not being fastened, on a very slight 
 push opened inwards on its heavy hinges. The 
 dingy hall, or rather passage, looked even more 
 desolate than usual, and the wide, unpolished, 
 worm-eaten oak stairs, seemed as if the indentures 
 in them, worn into perfect bowls, were deeper 
 than ever, while the thick, Henry the Seventh 
 torsade banisters, or at least the broad, j)lain 
 plinth that surmounted them, was polished like 
 a mirror from the friction of the hands of byegone 
 generations that had passed up and down it for 
 so many years. Hartsfoot gently and almost 
 fearfully pulled the blackened and well-worn bell 
 cord by its wooden handle, like that of a child's 
 skipping rope, aod the cracked bell, guiltless of 
 wires to convey its appeal to either the upper or 
 lower regions, but hung immediately over the in- 
 side of the door, returned a discordant sound that 
 would have been loud, had not its metallic lungs 
 been evidently enfeebled by age. 
 
 Master Hartsfoot waited for some minutes, 
 and listened for the heavy-trailing step of old 
 Margery, Hollar's largo al factotum^ a poor, rheu- 
 matic, blear-eyed old woman, who seemed to be 
 a sort of experimental freak of nature, that of an 
 ossified north wind; and while he waited and 
 listened, he contemplated the blades of long grass 
 springing up like prosperous parvenus through
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 217 
 
 the crumbling mortar round the broken door-step . 
 and when no Margery came ; he began to wonder 
 if this poor human rush-light had at length burnt 
 down in her socket, and gone out like all rush- 
 lights, more especially human ones, not leaving 
 the world in much greater darkness for her ex- 
 tinction. 
 
 At last, upon finding no one came, he resolved 
 to wait no longer, but go upstairs. Upon reach- 
 ing the first landing he knocked at the door that 
 was Hollar's work room, and where, if at home, 
 he was generally to be found. After a brief pause 
 he knocked again ; still no answer ; he then tried 
 to open the door, but found it locked. But, de- 
 termined not to go without some further search, 
 he now ascended the next flight of stairs. In 
 the staircase window was an old broken Dutch, 
 red, urn-shaped flower-pot, with a bas relief of 
 silenas, going one of his progresses, amid grapes 
 about the size of infant pumpkins, out of which 
 flower-pot towered, like the Pharos of desolation, 
 the brown, dry, leafless, withered stem of a wil- 
 holm geranium. When Master Oliver reached 
 the first door of the second landing, unmistakeable 
 signs and sounds of human life reached him, for 
 there was the plaintive, imploring wail of misery 
 on the one hand, and that of implacable brutality 
 on the other. 
 
 " Mine goote, sir, I do assure you it ish true ; 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 I /^ac/de moneys coming ven de accident happened 
 to my poor man, dat vas so goote as to go for it 
 for me." 
 
 " Aycj tell that tale to the grasshoppers, 
 and perhaps they may swallow it; but Isaac 
 Ironsides ain't quite so green. Come, Master, 
 I can't stay here all day haggling for what 
 ten minutes would clear out, and my orders 
 is to take ally to the bed from under you, which 
 is about the best of the shabby lot ; so quick, stir 
 your stumps, up with you, though praps you 
 can't dress till your wallet comes ; but that ain't 
 no odds, as I shall be able to help you consider- 
 able, as my orders is to take the shirt off your 
 back, and them as returns to first fashions, ain't 
 got no trouble with their dress." 
 
 Hartsfoot felt very sick and very indignant, 
 but pretty well knew what was the matter ; so, 
 having heard the fellow call himself Isaac Iron- 
 sides, he called out, in a civil voice — 
 
 ^' Mr. Ironsides, wiU you have the goodness to 
 step here a moment ?" 
 
 ^' Who the deuce can that be?" said the 
 Sheriff's officer, opening the door, through which 
 his burly form of full seven feet high, and stout 
 in proportion, had no sooner emerged, than Harts- 
 foot closed it after him, and beckoned to him to 
 come down on the stairs. Seeing a gentleman, 
 the fellow became exceedingly civil.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 219 
 
 "Your sarvant, sir." 
 
 " I want to know," said Oliver, '' what is tlie 
 amount of your claim upon Mr. Hollar ?" 
 
 " TTell, you see, sir, business is business, and 
 ourn baint by no means a pleasant business, and 
 we are obliged to act cording to circums^a?2ces, 
 or we should never fold our sheep, and — " 
 
 " And you, I suppose, are the gentle shepherd?" 
 interrupted Hartsfoot, '' but I don't want to hear 
 about that. I want to know the amount of your 
 claim upon Mr. Hollar, and at whose suit ?" 
 
 " At the suit of Jansen Yanderpeerboom, of 
 Crutched Friars, sir, but the facs of the case is 
 these — the horiginal debt was a bill for twenty 
 pounds, at ten per cent, for six months, but it 
 have run and run, and been put off and off, tiU 
 it have growed into £43 13s. 6d., and Mr. Hollar 
 promised to pay it to day sartin sure, and when I 
 comes instead of the money, he tries to bamboozle 
 me with a cock and bull story, that he had sent a 
 poor half cripple as does his odd jobs now his old 
 woman is gone — one Eoger Marner — yesterday 
 to my Lord Arundel for fifty pounds as was ow- 
 ing to him. ' That's no go,' says I, ' for my 
 Lord Arundel is away in furrin parts.' 'I know 
 that,' says he, ' but it was to Mr. Ellis, my lord's 
 steward, I wrote, and he gave Marner the money 
 — some in pieces of eight, some in angels, and 
 the rest in gold Jacobuses — and when poor Mar 
 
 L 2
 
 220 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ner got as fur as Charing Cross, what between 
 the horses and coaches, and a great waggon team 
 that was coming, he hobbled about to and fro 
 to avoid being run over, like one gone off his 
 head, and when at last he reached this house the 
 bag with the money was clean gone. But,' says 
 Hollar, ' if Jansen will only wait three days 
 longer he shall have the money ;, he shall indeed.' 
 Now it wasn't likely, sir, that I or any other man 
 in his senses was going to be gammoned in this 
 way." 
 
 " ^Nevertheless, Mr. Hollar told you the exact 
 truth about his having the money in three days, 
 which he certainly could have had for asking, as 
 I owe him more than that, and have this day 
 brought it to pay him. So, as you came in the 
 expectation of being paid, I suppose you have 
 the receipt about you ? Give it to me, and I 
 will hand you the £43 13s. 6d., that is, if you 
 can give me the six shillings and sixpence 
 change." 
 
 " Whew," whistled the amiable enforcer of the 
 law, and then, sticking his tongue in his cheek, 
 he excavated from his breast pocket a large black, 
 greasy pocket book, abstracted from it a stamped 
 slip of paper, and dipping a stumpy pen that had 
 evidently seen much service, and not done any 
 since it left its native goose, he dipped it into 
 an itinerant Lilliputian ink bottle, that dangled
 
 1670. Cluinljer Chase. 221 
 
 via a jDiece of whip cord from his button hole, 
 and on the crown of his greasy hat wrote out a 
 receipt in full for Jansen Yanderpeerboom, by 
 Isaac Ironsides. 
 
 And Oliver Hartsfoot, having received the 
 change, requested Mr. Ironsides not to stand 
 upon the order of his going, but to go at once, 
 and accompanied him as far as the first land- 
 ing, where he looked over the banisters till he 
 saw the hall door form, a very appropriate drop 
 scene (being dark and dirty,) to the bailiifs 
 exit. 
 
 If history is always repeating itself, verily 
 fate is always doing so too ; that is, she has 
 many rehearsals before the grand finale, for on 
 that very day eleven years after, when poor 
 Hollar was really on his death-bed, and Oliver 
 Hartsfoot had been gathered to his fathers, 
 another and even more brutal emissary of the law 
 stood over the dying debtor, so soon to take the 
 benefit of the act that frees for ever, who savagely 
 ordered the dying man to rise. 
 
 " I hope to do so in a few minutes," was his 
 mild reply, ^' only kindly wait, good sir, till 
 then." 
 
 But the minister of injustice refused. "Well, 
 he seized the body, but the soul had escaped. 
 ^ ^e- ^ -x- 
 
 * * ^ ^
 
 Clamhcr Chase. 1670. 
 
 Not knowing if there might not be more of the 
 genus vulture hovering about, Oliver Hartsfoot 
 took the precaution, so soon as he had seen the 
 last of Mr. Ironsides, of going down and locking 
 and bolting the hall door, and then hastened up- 
 stairs to the poor sick man's room. Yery gently 
 he opened the door, and very gently he crossed 
 the threshold and walked towards the bed. Hollar 
 was lying with his head back on the pillow, his 
 eyes closed, and his wan, worn face upturned. 
 Gently as Hartsfoot walked, the poor sufferer felt 
 his shadow fall across the bed, and murmured^ 
 without opening his eyes — 
 
 " I am so weak wid dis fever dat I cannot rise, 
 but, goote sir, you may take me too if you will 
 not believe me ; but I have told you the truth." 
 
 *' My dear Hollar," said Oliver, feeling his 
 pulse, or rather feeling for it, for it was almost 
 imperceptible, and he certainly had no fever then, 
 being quite cold; ^'no one will or can take you, 
 but I take it very ill of you that you did not send 
 to me before you let these wretches outrage you 
 so." 
 
 " Ah ! mine Got ! my goote, mine dear Master 
 Hartsfoot ; tank Got I see you once more here 
 before I meet you in heaven. Oh! how goote, 
 how kind of you to come." 
 
 "N'ow you must not exert yourself to talk, but 
 only to answer me yes or no."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 223 
 
 '^ Ah ! to see yoii make a' my life come back." 
 
 " Where is your old servant ? I am so grieved 
 to see you here so ill, and all alone." 
 
 *^ Poor Madge ! she go ill to de hospital two 
 week ago." 
 
 "And never to let me know? This was not 
 well, Hollar." 
 
 " Oh ! dear, goote Master Hartsfoot, you free 
 horse, and I have no spurs, and I should not 
 want but for terrible ting dat happen to poor 
 Roger Marner dat go my message for me." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know all about his losing the 
 money. Now don't exert yourself to talk ; but 
 whj let yourself go to such a pass ? Surely you, 
 who taught the king and the Duke of York draw- 
 ing, if they knew it they would not let you be 
 put to such straits." 
 
 " Ah I de poor gentlemens ; dey worse oiF be- 
 cause dey Prince. De Duke of Tork, he got 
 spendfast vife ; de poor king, so generous, he 
 leave nothing for himself. De oder day at Council, 
 no paper put for him. Sir Richard Brown call 
 Martin Kingswell, de royal stationer, to know de 
 reason ; and Kingswell say, wid tears in him 
 eyes, he vas ver poor man, wid large children, 
 and he was out of pocket five hundred pounds, 
 and could afford no more. Poor Kingswell ! he 
 tell me dis himself, and bring me a manchet and 
 some sack yesterday."
 
 224 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Where are tliey ?" asked Hartsfoot. 
 
 " Over on drawer." 
 
 Oliver walked over, found tlie delicate white 
 bread and the sack, ponred out a small glass of 
 the latter, brought both over to the bed, and 
 passing his hand gently under Hollar's neck, so 
 as to raise his head, said — 
 
 " Now you must drink this, and eat a bit of 
 bread, for you seem to me to want food more 
 than medicine." 
 
 The poor sufferer did as he was desired, and in 
 a few minutes felt considerably revived, for, in- 
 deed, his chief malady was inanition, aggra- 
 vated by great anxiety of mind. 
 
 "Now," said Hartsfoot, "that you seem sa 
 much better, if you^ll promise not to be jealous 
 I'll show you one of my etchings." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall be so glad. And vat is de subjec T' 
 
 " Well, I think of calling it the vulture put to 
 flight ; but I must get you to help me as to the 
 perspective." 
 
 And so saying, he held up before Hollar's eyes 
 Jansen Yanderpeerboom's receipt. 
 
 " Ah ! no ; indeed, indeed, mine goote Master 
 Hartsfoot, I cannot take dat from you." 
 
 " But you don't take it from me, it^s your own 
 lawful money — the price of the etchings you are 
 doing for me, and fortunately I brought the money 
 for them to-day, that's all."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 225 
 
 " But they are not even finished yet ; at least, 
 de Ornatus MuUelris is, but not all de tableaux oi 
 de fire and de plague." 
 
 '' That is of no consequence. I only meant 
 the fifty pounds for the Ornatus MuUelris, and, 
 by-the-bye, that reminds me, here is the change 
 from Jansen's receipt," said Hartsfoot, pushing 
 the bag (into which he had slipped three more 
 gold Jacobuses — all the money he had about him) 
 under Hollar's pillow. 
 
 " Oh ! dear kind, ever kind Master Hartsfoot 5 
 you are too good. You break my heart. What 
 can I ever do for you ?" 
 
 " Plenty of drawings I hope ; and I only wish 
 I was rich enough to give you anything like 
 what I consider their real value." 
 
 The poor artist said nothing, but two great 
 tears rolled down his cheeks, and after a minute 
 or two's silence, during which Hartsfoot arranged 
 the pillows and smoothed the bed clothes, 
 Hollar said — 
 
 ^^ De Lord only knows what state all my draw- 
 ings and my poor work room are in, for he have 
 been lock up dese tree week, vile I have been up 
 here, and I have got de gey onder mine billow." 
 
 " May I take it ? And will you trust me to 
 see it dusted and arranged every day till you can 
 return to it ? My Alice shall do it, but not with- 
 out my being there to see that nothing is injured 
 
 L 5
 
 226 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 or disarranged ; and every day I will bring you 
 back tbe key when the room is cleaned, for other- 
 wise all your valuable things may get spoilt." 
 
 At this offer, which went straight to his heart, 
 poor Hollar burst into a plentiful flood of tears, 
 which seemed greatly to relieve him, for his 
 atelier was his wife, his child, his friend ; in a 
 word, his alter ego. 
 
 " Oh ! Master Harts foot, if I could only draw 
 a true map of mine heart to show how I loaf 
 you !" 
 
 " I don't want any map to convince me of your 
 kindly feeling towards me ; but, my good friend, 
 where there is affection there always is obedience, 
 and till you are able to go down stairs again you 
 must obey me implicitly. I'll take the key of 
 your work room, and after that my first injunc- 
 tion is that you turn round and try and sleep for 
 a few hours, and I will send a trustworthy wo- 
 man — some friend of Merrypin's — to nurse and 
 take care of you, for you must not be left in this 
 way. And what did you say was the name of 
 the man you sent to Lord Arundel's steward for 
 the fiftj^ pounds owing to you ?'^ 
 
 "Roger Marner." 
 
 " And the day it was lost ?" 
 
 " Yesterday, about dree of de glock." 
 
 " Because I will send an advertisement about 
 it to all the news books ;* but still, as I said be- 
 
 * Newspapers were at that time called " news books."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 227 
 
 fore, I do wish you would appeal to the King, for 
 I am sure it would not be in vain." 
 
 *' No, no, poor King — free horse, free horse, 
 and I no spurs." 
 
 " Being a free horse no spurs would be 
 wanted," said Hartsfoot, as he shut to the 
 shutters, so as to darken the room, and forbidding 
 Hollar to utter another word, he promised to re- 
 turn in the evening, as he left the room, and 
 gently closed the door after him ; and when he 
 reached the hall he took the key out of the street 
 door and locked it on the outside, so that no one 
 might get in, till he could send someone to take 
 care of the house and its master, for which pur- 
 pose he hurried home, his heart much heavier 
 than when he had left it, and revolving in his 
 mind every possible way in which to serve, that 
 is, to permanently extricate poor Hollar from his 
 grinding poverty, so as to give his rare talent 
 and indefatigable industry fair play ; and still 
 the King's patronage ever came to the fore- 
 ground of these pictures of his imagination, as 
 at once the shortest and least humiliating mode 
 of relief, till he remembered how all things pe- 
 cuniary were in abeyance at Court, since even 
 one shilling of the wages of the very servants 
 had not been paid since the Eestoration, but were 
 all in arrears. There was no doubt that the 
 King would, with his usual impulsive kind-
 
 228 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 heartedness, and his constitutional lavisliness, 
 without hesitation bestow either a considerable 
 place or a j)ension upon his very meritorious 
 and much-to-be-commiserated quondam drawing 
 master ; but unfortunately it was almost equally 
 certain that neither the salary of the one nor the 
 annuity of the other would ever be paid ; in which 
 case poor Hollar, in addition to all his other 
 trials, would only be subjected to that cruellest 
 torture in all fate's arsenal — a false position. 
 So, before he had reached his own door, Master 
 Hartsfoot decided that there would be no use 
 in asking the King to touch for this evil. 
 
 " Is Merrypin at home ?" asked he, as soon as 
 Noah Pump had opened the door. 
 
 " She is, sir, for she is very busy straining 
 calves' foot jelly into some silver moulds that 
 Mrs. Ruffle lent her, as she says they turn out 
 better than from the chaney ones." 
 
 " Oh ! that's lucky ; I'm glad she has got 
 some jelly in the house. Send her to me ; tell 
 her it's something that presses, and I want her 
 directly," 
 
 The directly, however, extended itself into a 
 full quarter of an hour ; so that the cabinet coun- 
 cil was of necessity delayed, and when the Prime 
 Minister did appear, she was still smoothing her 
 pinners, and the muslin apron beautifully tam- 
 boured in a pattern of pansies and bachelor's
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 229 
 
 buttons, with which she had replaced her culi- 
 nary brown Holland one. Master Hartsfoot, 
 not being too sure that the atmosphere was quite 
 serene, when the quicksilver was af jelly," said, 
 blandly — 
 
 " I am sorry to have disturbed you, as I hear 
 you were busy, Merrypin, but I could not avoid it." 
 
 "• It's of no consequence, sir ; only I fear I 
 smell terrible of lemons and sherry," which an- 
 nouncement she punctuated by placing two 
 fingers of her right hand before her mouth, and 
 giving three little " ahem's !" 
 
 " Well, lemons and sherry are both excellent 
 things in their way." 
 
 Which, as Mrs. Merrypin was too strict an 
 adherer to truth to gainsay, her master opened 
 the proceedings by placing before her, very 
 graphically, the deplorable and desolate position 
 of poor Hollar, till the tears so incommoded Mrs. 
 Merry pin's eyes, that she was fain, to the crump- 
 ling — not exactly of the roses, but of her admir- 
 ably '^ got up" apron — to irrigate the tambour 
 pansies and bachelor's buttons with them ; 
 whereupon. Master Hartsfoot asked her if she 
 knew of any competent and trustworthy woman, 
 who could go that very evening to nurse and 
 take care of the poor sick man, and remain per- 
 manently as his servant, and he (Oliver) would 
 pay her her wages ?
 
 230 Clumher Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Well, sir, I do know an honest, respectable 
 woman as ever was, one Audrey Barton, to whom 
 it would be quite a charity ; a widow woman, 
 sir, who has a hard tussle of it to keep life and 
 soul together, with a dead weight of a lout of a 
 boy and a daughter, who does nothing. To be 
 sure, Audrey Barton is rather stricken in years, 
 like myself, but she has plenty of work in her 
 still, and is thoroughly notable." 
 
 " Then it would seem that the way the matter 
 stands is this — the mother is notable, and the 
 daughter not able." 
 
 ^^ That's just about it, sir." 
 
 '^ But would she leave, or could she leave her 
 daughter ?" 
 
 " Oh ! dear, yes, sir ; she's obliged to do that 
 now every day for any odd jobs she can pick up, 
 or else they must starve ; and starvation for one 
 is bad enough, but starvation for two is worse. 
 So, if you please, sir, I'll just step round and 
 bring Mrs. Barton back with me." 
 
 " Yes, do ; but stop one moment. I've some- 
 thing else to say to you," said Hartsfoot, who 
 thought it better to strike while the iron was hot, 
 as Mrs. Merrypin was now in such good cue. 
 *' Poor Mr. Hollar's work room has been terribly 
 neglected ; in fact, locked up for the last three 
 weeks of his illness, and I have promised to see 
 it cleaned and kept in good order, so that none
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 231 
 
 of his valuable drawings may be disturbed or 
 injured, till lie is able to get about. Kow, what 
 bour every morning would it be most convenient 
 to you to come with me to settle the room, till 
 you have shown Mrs. Barton the way to do it? 
 And tell her she must not be oflended at my 
 staying in the room while she settles it, as I 
 should never forgive myself if poor Mr. Hollar 
 was to miss a scrap of torn paper even, when he 
 returned to his study." 
 
 Now, if Alice Merrypin had been asked at a 
 moment's notice, to dress a banquet for all the 
 gods and goddesses, however arduous and oner- 
 ous the undertaking might have been, she would 
 have felt rather flattered than otherwise ; but her 
 genius did not lie among cobwebs and litter, and 
 she felt somewhat taken aback by this question ; 
 but her love for her master and her natural kind- 
 liness of nature conquered, and she answered — 
 
 " About half-past nine in the morning — if that 
 hour would suit you, sir — -would be the most con- 
 venient to me." 
 
 " Then half-past nine be it. I suppose it is 
 too late to make any mutton broth ?" 
 
 " Well, it is for to-day, su* ; but there is some 
 excellent giblet soup, and that's worth all the 
 mutton broth in the world ' for putting strength 
 into anyone that's ill.' " 
 
 " Well, then, we'll take some of that, and 
 some of the jelly that Pump tells me you have
 
 232 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 made ; but not in the silver shapes that Mrs. 
 Ruffle lent you, for we should never take such a 
 liberty with other persons' things as to lend what 
 they have lent us." 
 
 " Hardly, sir ! I hope I know my place better 
 than to think of doing such a thing," said Mrs. 
 Merrypin, both hurt and surprised that her master 
 should have thought her capable of such want of 
 savoir vivre ; therefore, perhaps, her curtsey was 
 a shade lower than usual, as she left the room to 
 equip herself for going in search of Mrs. Barton. 
 While he, guiltless of offence, went to his sanc- 
 tum for a " wonderful lamp," that the Marquis 
 of Worcester had given him out of his '^ Century 
 of Inventions," which, like the vestal fire, he 
 warranted to burn for ever, only without care or 
 replenishing. And certain it was, that it had 
 burnt steadily during the ten years it had been 
 in Oliver Hartsfoot's possession, emitting a dazzl- 
 ing light, almost equal to the then undiscovered 
 Bude light, and the strangest attribute of it was 
 that it emitted scarcely any heat in proportion, 
 as if it had been merely the simulacrum of a 
 flame. This everlasting light was contained in 
 a very small Bhul hand-lantern, with slides to 
 pass over it, so as to shut out the light and 
 render it a dark lantern ; and at night it was 
 always Hartsfoot's companion about the dark, 
 dangerous, dirty, ill-paved streets of Old London.
 
 1670. 
 
 Clumber Chase. 
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SITTING TO SIR PETER LELT. 
 
 XTHOUGH Oliver Hartsfoot had found 
 poor Hollar mucli better on liis re- 
 turn to Axe Yard the preceding 
 evening, from the few hours' quiet 
 sleep he had got when relieved from that worst 
 of all nightmares, " the man in possession," and 
 cheered by that potent elixir, human kindness, 
 sympathy, and help, in the hour of need. And 
 though Hartsfoot left the poor man still better 
 from the good things Mrs. Merrypin's skill had 
 prepared, and her master's considerate fore- 
 thought had brought him ; still, poor good 
 Master Hartsfoot himself passed a sleepless 
 night, vainly casting about for some channel 
 through which he could effectually serve so 
 gifted, deserving, and hard-working a man, and 
 prevent a recurrence of the horrors of the pre- 
 vious day by not again letting him be subjected 
 to the tender mercies of Jansen Yanderpeerboom 
 and his fellow sharks. True, Oliver was ac- 
 quainted with more than one professed and pro-
 
 234 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 fessional philanthropist, but he knew only too 
 well, from experience, that they were so im- 
 mersed in their magnificent theories for the 
 regeneration, perfectability, and impregnable 
 happiness of the whole human race, that they 
 never had either time or inclination to enter into 
 the vulgar details of individual misery and want. 
 Man is their study ; but it is in his abstract and 
 protoplastic state, a most comprehensive, but 
 not very well defined, or practically working 
 scheme, strongly resembling Commissioner 
 Yeh's explanation of "Taoli." 
 
 ''' What does your Excellency mean by Taoli ?" 
 " What you ought to do is Taoli ; what you 
 ought not to do is not Taoli." 
 
 *' Has Taoli no more extended meaning V 
 " Taoli has the most comprehensive meaning ; 
 it comprehends everything." 
 
 '^ Does Taoli teach of a Creator ?" 
 " There are many Taoli. There is Heaven's 
 Taoli, and Earth's Taoli, and Man's Taoli." 
 " Are these Taoli's distinct V' 
 " No ; they are all parts of one Taoli." 
 So leaving the '' Taoli " of universal philan- 
 thropy in despair, and thinking, with Chanticlear 
 in the fable, that a grain of millet would much 
 better serve his purpose than so much sublime, 
 aggregate, but withal, abstruse philosophy, poor 
 Master Hartsfoot suddenly thought, *' Surely, a
 
 1670. Clamber Chase. 235 
 
 brother artist and compatriot ouglit, and will 
 have some feeling for him," which was a strong 
 proof of how troubled and upset he was by Hol- 
 lar's troubles ; for in his normal state, Master 
 Hartsfoot had far too logical a mind to jumble 
 what people ought to do, with what they will do, 
 into a synonyme. 
 
 '' Yes," said he, following up this last straw he 
 had caught at, " surely Yander Yaes, or Lely, as 
 it now pleases him to be called since his knight- 
 hv^od, seeing the insolent prosperity of his own 
 career, will, out of his superfluity of pelf and 
 patronage, hold out a helping hand to his poor, 
 only less fortunate countryman. But, as we have 
 before said, it was only Hartsfoot's anxiety to 
 serve Hollar that made him on this occasion 
 reckon without his host, for though he might not 
 possess what is called knowledge of the world, 
 systematically living out of it as he did, yet he 
 had a profound knowledge of human nature, 
 which is the raw material of knowledge of the 
 world ; therefore, had he had time to reflect, he 
 would have known — none better — that what are 
 called self-made men are nearly invariably self- 
 seeking men, who are too pre-occupied in making 
 themselves to spare time or money towards mend- 
 ing the fortunes of others ; in short, that those 
 who '' get on in the world," as it is called, 
 generally crawl to climb, and are not nice as to
 
 236 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 crooked or mirey ways, and when at length they 
 have succeeded in attaining the summit of that 
 slippery Mat de Cocagne worldly success, and in 
 their low emineiice^ the sun shining on them, and 
 causing the very mire they have accumulated in 
 their progress to glitter, and thus sparkle in the 
 eyes of the groundlings. They do not even give 
 '' luck," that golden calf idol of the world, any 
 credit for their rise, but attribute it wholly and 
 solely to their own merits, with a sovereign con- 
 tempt for those they deem the poor fools who 
 object to rising by the same means, or to success 
 on the same terms. 
 
 Now Hartsfoot thought of all this after, but 
 he did not think of it at the time, and so resolved, 
 so soon as he had superintended the thorough 
 cleaning and dusting of Hollar's work room, and 
 the scrupulous replacing of every scrap of paper 
 where he found it, and had delivered up the key 
 to its owner, promising to take it again every 
 night for the same purpose, that he would call 
 upon Sir Peter Lely and see if he could not in- 
 terest him in behalf his poor confrere. 
 
 The Date Oleulum Belisario is, under any cir- 
 cumstances, by no means a pleasant task, even 
 when we do not hold out the hat for ourselves ; 
 but do what Belisarius really did, instead of 
 begging ; to wit, spoil other people. It wanted 
 about a quarter to eleven a.m. when Hartsfoot
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 237 
 
 reached the splendid house of Sir Peter Lely, in 
 Whitehall, all the appointments of which were 
 en grand Seignieur^ perhaps a shade too gorgeous 
 in detail, and thereby betraying the parveiiu. 
 Two or three coaches had just been sent away 
 from the door, whose occupants had been cour- 
 teously, if somewhat pompously, informed that 
 Sir Peter could not even see them before that 
 day fortnight, as till then his list of names, in- 
 scribed six months ago, was so full that he had 
 not one available minute. 
 
 '^ So," thought Oliver, " this is a bad look out 
 for me, but as the copybook assures us that 
 ^with patience and perseverance we shall suc- 
 ceed in every thing,' now is the time to try the 
 prescription. Fortunately for Hartsfoot, the 
 'first Lord' in black was now engaged with 
 another coach, and the lackey that fell to his 
 share knew him well by sight, being an intimate 
 of Noah Pump and Lancelot Amyot^ Mrs. Neville's 
 footman. So accosting him in the civilest pos- 
 sible manner, he said — 
 
 " I am extremely sorry, but I fear, sir, Sir 
 Peter cannot possibly see you to-day ; but if you 
 will enter your name and address in the book 
 it shall be attended to." 
 
 " I am in no hurry ; I can wait any length of 
 time, as I have come on very particular business." 
 
 Here another footman actually rushed past
 
 238 Cluwber Chase, 1670. 
 
 Hartsfoot and his colleague, and roared out as he 
 stepped into the street — 
 
 " My Lady Castlemaine's coach !" 
 
 *^ If you'll step back here, sir," whispered the 
 good-natured lackey, '' you'll see her ladyship." 
 
 '' Back, back, every one," said the man in 
 black, with a sort of Garter-King -of- Arms au- 
 thority; not actually touching Hartsfoot, but 
 throwing: back his rio:ht arm in such a devise 
 parlante manner as admirably to represent a 
 pantomimic push, and yet what a work of super- 
 erogation was he performing, for Lady Castle- 
 maine had not the slightest objection to being 
 seen, but quite the contrary, and had she been 
 there at the moment would probably have en- 
 forced the spirit of Talleyrand's injunction, only 
 slightly altering its formula, and have said — 
 
 " Pas tant de zele, mon amV 
 
 However, a few minutes after, when she did 
 rustle out, affecting to conceal her face in 
 her hood, but letting it slip back accidentally 
 on purpose, which was only natural, as no one 
 ever presented a better primd facie case. 
 
 Hartsfoot was not sufficiently in eclipse to hold 
 himself absolved from a bow, which the lady ac- 
 knowledged, not only with a very gracious smile, 
 which displayed the two rows of pearl within 
 their coral casket, but actually stopped in her on- 
 ward course and made him a very low courtesy.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 239 
 
 " All I" sighed lie, ^- what a pity that nature 
 should ever be guilty of such discrepancies, and 
 make all angel without and all devil within !" 
 
 The man in black, who was in the habit of 
 taking notes, though not of printing them, per- 
 ceiving how gracious the ruler of the kingdom 
 had been to Master Hartsfoot, as soon as her 
 coach had driven off, turned with an altered 
 manner of extreme empressement, and ex]^)ressed 
 to him his regret that he had waited so long, 
 adding, ^^ But I really fear it will be impos- 
 sible for Sir Peter to give you an audience" — 
 those were his words — "to-day." 
 
 Hartsfoot repeated that his business was urgent, 
 and that he was in no hurry, and could wait, 
 whereupon the man in black — Harbord by name 
 — conceiving that from Lady Castlemaine's 
 civility the strange gentleman must be a greater 
 personage than he (Harbord) was aware of, 
 said — 
 
 *' Well, sir, if you don't mind waiting, for wait 
 I fear you'll have to do, allow me to show you 
 into the dining room, and suiting the action to 
 the word, he walked across the noble hall and 
 flung open the door of a very magnificent room, 
 about fifty feet long and twenty feet high, and 
 having placed a chair for the stranger, closed the 
 door and withdrew. Now Hartsfoot, like all the 
 town, had heard much of Lely's splendid mode
 
 240 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 of living, more especially of the luxury of his 
 plate and other table appointments, which, in- 
 deed were spoken of and expatiated upon as one of 
 the London wonders, in an age where with much 
 extravagance there was little luxury even at 
 Court, and no elegance. Still he was not pre- 
 pared for the coup-d'oeil that greeted him on be- 
 ing ushered into this room. 
 
 Not only the ceiling was rich in Grinling Gib- 
 bon's finest carvings, undesecrated by white 
 paint, but relieved by mosaic compartments in 
 vivid heraldic blues, reds, and gold ; but in the 
 centre of the panelled walls hung, suspended hy 
 an apparent cord, but still of oak, large bunches 
 of game, hares, pheasants, woodcock, snipe, 
 from the same matchless hand — the fur of the 
 former you were tempted to smooth, while the 
 feathers of the birds looked as if you could blow 
 them away ; and some of them, by the cunning 
 of the artist, had been turned aside, so as to 
 shew the down underneath ; in other panels were 
 grouse and moor fowl, with sprays of heather, 
 which, in all but colour, might have deceived the 
 living birds, as the very breeze seemed still to 
 tremble in their bells. But the chef d'oeuvre was 
 the sideboard ! which was composed of deer, 
 wild boars, and chamois, dead, as the spoils of 
 the chase, lying among the roots, that is at the 
 foot, of a giant oak, whose branches rose on either
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 241 
 
 side, meeting in a sort of irregular arch at the 
 top, and so forming the frame of the large mir- 
 ror that was let into the wall; while in these 
 branches, amid the leaves and acorns, were in- 
 numerable little birds, so life-like in their 
 anatomy, that the outstretched wings of some 
 made them appear to be actually flying. This 
 buffet was laden with the most costly gold and 
 silver plate, flagons, cups, chargers, salvers, 
 tankards, many of them gifts from appreciative 
 admirers, but many more from the owner to him- 
 self, yet presented with such becoming modesty, 
 that they always bore inscriptions purporting to 
 be the offering of someone else. The curtains 
 and chairs of this room were of emerald green 
 Genoa velvet, which had also been embroidered 
 in Italy, to order, with large silver lilies, and 
 lined with thick rich padua white silk, and 
 trimmed with deep silver fringe, which, while it 
 added to their richness, at the same time consi- 
 derably lightened them, and toning in so har- 
 moniously as they did with the light — not dark 
 — oak wainscoting and carvings, produced a 
 -:ost charming effect. The sides of the polished 
 oak floor were bare, but the rest covered with a 
 most splendid Turnois carpet, of an emerald 
 green ground, like the curtains, and also strewed 
 with large white lilies. The table was laid for 
 dinner, for at that time people dined at noon, or 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 at latest, from one to two p.m. ; and tlie table 
 was also worth looking at, not from its mere 
 costliness, but from its luxury of taste. 
 
 To begin at the beginning, the napery was of 
 that thick^ curiously fine, soft, satiny texture, 
 such as in former times (when Hamborough 
 table linen ranked en suite with family diamonds, 
 family plate, and family point lace) used often to 
 constitute the gift of royalty, and as such, may 
 occasionally be seen as heirlooms now, but never 
 otherwise. The salt cellars were large branches 
 of red coral, about a quarter of a yard high, sur- 
 mounted by a large gold conch for the salt. The 
 wine coolers were formed by two gold Bacchantes, 
 with one arm round each other's necks, while in 
 their disengaged hand each held a vintage 
 basket of gold trelliswork of leaves and grapes ; 
 save that round the rim of the baskets the ripe 
 bunches of grapes that came tumbling over were 
 made of the root of the amethyst, which, from its 
 semi-opaqueness, perfectly simulated the bloom 
 of the fniit. In one of these coolers was a bottle 
 of Riidesheimer ; in the other, a bottle of Yin de 
 Volnay-Mousseux ; while vulgar Sack and Xeres 
 were banished to the magnificent limbo of the 
 huffet^ with humble Mead and Hippocras. Mere 
 show, which may be called the vulgarity of 
 wealth, was offensive to Hartsfoot's innately 
 good and correct taste, and lavish expenditure
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 243 
 
 roused liis ire as a crying sin, which, while plau- 
 sibly affording employment to a few, must, in an 
 indirect manner, occasion want and privation to 
 many. But the beautiful, whether in animate 
 or inanimate things, was his weak point ; and he 
 thoroughly revelled in the harmonious and artis- 
 tic perfection of the room he was sitting in. But 
 there are two distinct kinds of love of the beau- 
 tiful, and they differ widely ; one is a mere sensu- 
 ous enjoyment of it, quite compatible with the 
 grossest and least imaginative natures ; the other 
 is a pschycological appreciation of it, requiring 
 refinement of organization and superior intelli- 
 gence ; and it was through the latter mediums 
 that beauty in every form and shade appealed to 
 the complete and nicely balanced nature of 
 Hartsfoot. And, as he had to wait full three 
 quarters of an hour before gaining admission to 
 the presence of the tutelary divinity of this rare 
 shrine, he had ample time to examine and take 
 in all its details. 
 
 '' Ah !'^ sighed he, when at length he sat down 
 after a fourth tour of the room, '' I fear self is 
 too much studied, and lavishes like all self-wor- 
 shippers, too much upon its idol, to hope for 
 much help here" 
 
 And the tears welled up in his eyes as he 
 mentally contrasted the two pictures of poor 
 Hollar's desolate, destitute niche in the world's 
 
 M 2
 
 244 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 tableaux vivants, and the Court painter's gorgeous 
 scene ! But then he was the Court painter, and 
 knew how, not only to flatter on canvas, but to 
 canvass flatteringly, the power and patronage of 
 the Laises and Phrynes, whom he transmitted to 
 posterity in such flattering colours, while the 
 other had nothing but his genius, his industry, 
 and his honesty — three excellent things to starve 
 upon — that made all the difference, and so he 
 starved accordingly. 
 
 Master Oliver now looked at his watch, as even 
 the best regulated minds have a trick of doing 
 while waiting, with a vague idea that that pro- 
 cess will hasten the arrival of the person or thing 
 waited for. And as the hands pointed to a 
 quarter to one, the fear of Mrs. Merrypin rose up 
 before his eyes, for though upon the whole she 
 was a good and indulgent ^uovernante enough for 
 the housekeeper of a single gentleman, with 
 whom she had uncontroUedly had her own way 
 for five-and-twenty years; still, the line must 
 be drawn somewhere, and as she piqued herself 
 (and with reason) upon her art, keeping her 
 dinner waiting was one of the things she could 
 not overlook in her master ; but just as he had 
 made up his mind to do penance for his sin of 
 lese-cuisiniere^ and go without any dinner at all, 
 a door opened at the other end of the room, which 
 was so masked as to appear like one of the
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 245 
 
 panels, and the great man appeared, palette and 
 brushes in hand, and in his working dress — to 
 wit, a tunic of black velvet, a point (Taleiicon, 
 pointed falKng collar, and a black velvet beret 
 upon his head. He bowed where he stood, but 
 made no sign of advancing ; the intruder rose, 
 bowed, and walked over to him, and then bowed 
 again, as he said — 
 
 " I have many apologies to make to you. Sir 
 Peter, for this intrusion upon time which I 
 know to be so valuable, more especially as I do 
 not come as a legitimate claimant on it to solicit 
 a sitting." 
 
 " Oh !" ejaculated the great man, bowing very 
 slightly, and measuring at a glance his visitor 
 from head to foot, as if seeking some external 
 clue to his errand, ^^ that is fortunate, as />^ace 
 aux dames, and I have so many ladies on my list 
 for the next eight months, that as a reply to the 
 gentlemen, I have been obliged to put up a per- 
 manent NO in my halL But perhaps you will 
 not mind coming in here ?" he added, backing 
 into his studio, where pointing to a chair for 
 Hartsfoot, he himself ascended the two steps of 
 the dais, where he enthi'oned himself on the 
 sitter's chair, falling apparently quite naturally 
 into a very regal attitude, as he graciously con- 
 tinued — '^ I shall be happy to hear your busi-
 
 246 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " My business is rather of a painful nature ; 
 in fact, Sir Peter, I have come to try and obtain 
 your powerful interest, and enlist your sympathy 
 in behalf of a brother artist." 
 
 The great man slightly knit, and then con- 
 siderably elevated his eyebrows, as if they were 
 protesting upon his part that really he was not 
 aware that Jie had any brother artist ! or that any 
 individual of the kind existed within a hundred 
 degrees of consanguinity to him. But all he said 
 was — 
 
 "Who is this person ?" 
 
 " He has the honour of being a compatriot of 
 yours, though he is far from having acquired your 
 proficiency in our language ; it is poor Wences- 
 laus Hollar." 
 
 ^' Oh !" drawled the great man, as he twitched 
 a highly perfumed handkerchief out of his breast 
 pocket, whose cobweb fineness diffused a delicious 
 odour of rose and ambergris through the air 
 before officiating at its owner's nose. " Oh ! 
 poor Hollar ; I'm afraid there is some great bad 
 management and improvidence there, for he 
 really has a very respectable amount of talent, 
 quite enough to keep the wolf from the door, for 
 a man in his sphere of life, and of his habits." 
 
 " As I am cognizant of poor Hollar's indefati- 
 gable industry and his almost ascetic frugality, I 
 must beg to differ from you there, Sir Peter ; but
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 247 
 
 the fact is, wlien a person without friends — I 
 mean powerful friends, patronage, or opportu- 
 nities, which the two former can always make — 
 when a person, I say, begins with a large capital 
 of poverty, and work and strive as they will, can 
 only succeed in adding nothing to nothing, the 
 chronic sum total is — nothing remains, and that 
 is an abyss from which no poor wretch can extri- 
 cate himself." 
 
 " Ah ! well, I'm exceedingly sorry for him, 
 but I'm in a delicate position, and wishing to 
 preserve my independence" (as so many persons 
 nobly do when they have thoroughly feathered 
 their own nests) " I have made it a rule never 
 to ask any favours at Court for anyone." 
 
 " Neither should I like my poor friend's honest 
 self-respect to be wounded by hs^^mg favours asked 
 for him. My idea was that you, Sir Peter Lely, 
 being a magnate in your profession, might put 
 a less fortunate confrere in a legitimate way of 
 making his talents available, for I need not tell 
 you that the smallest diamond that has the ad- 
 vantage of being set and exhibited by a fashion- 
 able jeweller, though of little comparative intrinsic 
 value, will yet obtain a higher price than an in- 
 valuable gem, which is wedged in the darkness 
 of the mine, and so remains unknown." 
 
 " Peut-etre ?'' shrugged the little diamond 
 which, having been so well mounted, had ob-
 
 248 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 tained sucli fabulous prices. " But what is it in 
 one of your English plays about there being ' a 
 tide in the affau's of men which, taken' — I forget 
 when and where, ' leads on to fortune.' " 
 
 '^ Very true, Sir Peter, but some unfortunates 
 are wrecked upon rocks so steep and so barren 
 that no tide can ever reach them to take advan- 
 tage of." 
 
 " I do assure you," said the knight, crossing 
 his right leg over the left, and passing his hand 
 up and down over his glossy black silk stocking 
 with an air of ineffable complacency and self- 
 laudation, '' I do assure you when I first came to 
 this country I did not know a soul ; fact, 'pon 
 honour." 
 
 " He seems to forget," thought Hartsfoot, 
 ^' that it is bodies and not souls that have got 
 him on." 
 
 " Well but. Sir Peter, you soon knew the 
 King, and that was a royal road to success.'^ 
 
 " And Hollar, long before, was drawing master 
 to the King and the Duke of York." 
 
 " Yes, I reminded him of that, and wanted him 
 to appeal to them, but he is a very sensitive, 
 delicate-minded man, and knowing the impecu- 
 niosity of the royal coffers just now I cannot per- 
 suade him to do so." 
 
 "Ah ! well, if people won't follow up their ad- 
 vantages they have no right to complain."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 249 
 
 " Still I think they are to be respected Tvlien, 
 to their own hindrance, they draw nice distinc- 
 tions, and won't take advantage of others." 
 
 And so saying, finding he had come to a dead 
 wall, and could lead his forlorn hope no farther, 
 Hartsfoot rose and apologised for the length of 
 his star. 
 
 " Oh I not at all ; I am sorry that I really 
 cannot aid yon in any way about Hollar. I'm 
 sorry to hear he is in such straitened circum- 
 stances, and if this can be of any use to him — " 
 
 And he placed a couple of Jacobuses in Harts- 
 foot's hand, or rather attempted to do so, for the 
 other drew back with an irrepressible flush of in- 
 dignation upon his cheek, as if the insult had 
 been offered to himself personally. 
 
 " Ah ! well, you know best ;" and then the 
 great man added, as if under the influence of a 
 sudden inspiration, " I'll tell you what I really 
 might be able to do, perhaps. They have all 
 sorts of little games and things every night at 
 the Duchess of York's ; I might propose a raffle 
 for some of Hollar's drawings, at half-crown 
 tickets." 
 
 " Scarcely," said Hartsfoot; ^'that would be 
 very infra dig^ and for no commensurate relief. 
 Fancy, Sir Peter, having one of your chef 
 (Toeuwes raffled for !" 
 
 He could not imagine anything so preposter- 
 
 M 5
 
 250 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ous ! so merely replied, to show his perfect 
 knowledge of the English character, as well of 
 the English language — " Why, you see, as a 
 rule, great people are very reluctant to part with 
 their money, but equally fond of purchasing the 
 chance of obtaining forty or fifty pounds' worth 
 for two or three shillings ; and when appealed to 
 for cases of distress — that do not bring with them 
 the eclat of public charity — invariably search the 
 ledger of their memory to see what claim the 
 applicant has upon tkem^ and finding none — for 
 mere distress, however extreme, is never con- 
 sidered any — wonder they did not apply to some- 
 body else ; while somebody else, in his turn, 
 passes the ' what ought to be done ' on to other 
 somebody else, and so on, ad infinitum^ 
 
 " Too true," said Hartsfoot, as a quotation ob- 
 truded itself on his mind about '^ Satan reproving 
 sin," but he, of course, did not utter it ; but as 
 he prepared to go, merely looked wistfully to- 
 wards a large piece of brown taffeta that covered 
 a picture on the easel, which his host perceiving, 
 and being in high good humour at having saved 
 his money, even if he had lost his time, pulled it 
 off, and discovered that glorious portrait— ^^^ 
 picture of Lady Castlemaine. 
 
 " Doubtless you know the original T' 
 '' It's not a painting ; it's the living woman !" 
 exclaimed Hartsfoot, in an estacy.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 251 
 
 " Don't, at all events, be too sure that the liv- 
 ing woman is not a painting," laughed the 
 artist. 
 
 *•' What exquisite hands you do give them all, 
 Sir Peter!" 
 
 ^^ I should be no hand at pourtraying fair ladies 
 if I did not." 
 
 While Hartsfoot was still rapt in admiration 
 before the portrait, a side door opened from the 
 hall, and the stately Harbord announced — 
 
 " Dinner is on the table, Sir Peter." 
 
 Thanking him for his courtesy in having let 
 him see that particular picture, which he was 
 aware was never shown to anyone, Oliver Harts - 
 foot bowed his adieux, and retreated through the 
 side door that the man in black had opened, and 
 left the princely domicile of the successful 
 MAN with his heart even heavier than he had 
 entered it, to think how completely he had failed 
 in his efforts there to serve the unsuccessful man, 
 who had done more, so far as deserving success 
 went
 
 252 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ' ' We are like the weaver, who plies his shuttle and fills in the 
 web thread by thread, but has to wait to the end to see it as a 
 whole. We work on the wrong side, like him, and need death to 
 reverse it before we can see it right."— • L^/e ; a Book for a Quiet 
 Hour. By J. Ctmninghaon GeiHe. 
 
 MOTHER k^D SON. COMPANION PICTUEES.- 
 
 MOTHEE AND DAUGHTEE. 
 
 T SO happened that on the very morn- 
 ing that Hollar had despatched the 
 poor old lame man, Roger Mamer, 
 to the steward of his quondam patron, 
 Lord Arundel, for the fifty pounds that had been 
 some time due to him, and inadvertently for- 
 gotten by Lord Arundel, who had done the poor 
 hard-working artist many good turns, and 
 meant to do him many more, Dorothy Neville 
 had been out with her mother's maid. Ruffle, 
 and gone her rounds among her own special 
 pensioners ; so that the basket which the latter 
 carried, and which had been heavy with 
 divers packages of little household luxuries, 
 for those who could with difficulty obtain abso- 
 lute necessaries, was now quite empty, and
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 253 
 
 Dorothy so tired that she devoutly wished it had 
 been large enough to hold her, and Ruffle strong 
 enough to carry her. 
 
 " Do, Ruffle, like a dear good soul, let me get 
 into a hackney coach, or I shall drop," she said, 
 as they were picking their way through one of 
 the narrowest and dirtiest lanes in the purlieus 
 of Westminster, called Catchpole Lane. 
 
 " Indeed, Mistress Dorothy, I dare not. It 
 would be as much as my place is worth if madam 
 knew it. She has such a dread of infection ever 
 since the plague, and would not let even one of us 
 servants go in a public conveyence, for fear of 
 contaminating the house after. Perhaps it's very 
 wrong of me to say so, but there's a time ap- 
 pointed for us all, whether it comes by plague, 
 pestilence, or famine, or over gormandising, and 
 sleeping off the effects." 
 
 " Of course there is ; so what nonsense to be 
 afraid of infection when it's nearly three years 
 since the plague." 
 
 " Tm not afraid of infection, madam. I've too 
 many plagues at home with that unregenerated 
 sinner, Bridget Butson ; but I am afraid to dis- 
 obey madam's strict orders, and really could not 
 do so on any account, and we shall soon be home 
 now, madam." 
 
 As she spoke the rain, which had been long 
 threatening, now descended in torrents.
 
 254 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 "Oh! dear," said Ruffle, "I maybe wrong, 
 and perhaps it's very wrong of me to say so, but 
 this comes, I take it, of my naming that limb 
 Butson, who is always sousing every one and 
 everything, and soused sure enough we're likely 
 to be." 
 
 " Ladies," said a poor woman, coming to the 
 door of a miserable-looking hovel, " mine is but 
 a poor place to ask you into, still it will keep 
 you dry if so be you'll condescend to step in till 
 the rain is over." 
 
 *^ Oh ! thank you," said Dorothy, darting in, 
 followed with equal alacrity by Ruffle. 
 
 Poor and wretched the place unquestionably 
 was, since the rough stones of which the walls 
 were built, like those of a cow-house, or any other 
 out-house, were not even white-washed. A bed- 
 stead was in one corner, but without any bedding 
 but some straw and dried fern, and a rug that 
 served at once for blanket and counterpane. On this 
 bed, half lying, half sitting, leaning on her elbow, 
 with her cheek in her hand, was a sickly, lazy- 
 looking girl, watching her mother work. The 
 fireplace, with a sort of cruel irony, was very large, 
 as if for the purpose of letting down as much wind 
 and rain as possible, while the two rusty andirons 
 were drawn closely together to try and keep 
 alight the not very good imitation of fire, com- 
 posed of nut shells, sticks, and bricks made of
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 255 
 
 ashes, clay and dried leaves, kneaded together with 
 water, and then left to dry — when after much 
 labour, and equal patience, they were induced to 
 ignite and do duty for the more orthodox fuel of 
 wood and coal,^ the exorbitant price of the latter 
 placing it quite beyond the reach of many of the 
 middle classes, let alone the very poor. In this 
 ^' weak invention" of a fire, was a smoothing iron, 
 doing all it could to fulfil its destiny under diffi- 
 culties, while the poor woman's work was an 
 equally arduous attempt to iron a few rags upon 
 a ricketty three-legged table, made on the model 
 of a joint stool, her ironing blanket being the 
 debris of an old flannel petticoat. Still, no 
 sooner had Dorothy and Ruffle entered than she 
 offered them all the hospitality she could, by plac- 
 ing a wooden stool and an inverted deal box near 
 the fire — no, the grate — with many apologies for 
 not possessing a chair, and then, turning to the 
 girl, said — 
 
 " Bridget, where's your manners, not to rise 
 when you see gentlefolks ? Fie ! I'm ashamed 
 of you." 
 
 " Oh ! pray don't disturb her," said Dorothy, 
 " and do go on with your work, or I shall go 
 back into the rain if we are at all in your way." 
 
 * Evelyn, Pepys, and many contemporary writers, mention 
 the terrible fact, of coal being just after the Dutch invasion, 
 £5 10s. a chaldron, from the ships not being able to bring it up 
 the river.
 
 256 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Dear heart, madam, I hope you won't do 
 that, for you are not in the least in my way. I'm 
 only sorry it's such a poor shelter for you." 
 
 And with a natural good breeding, or what 
 Mr. Evelyn would have truly called politesse du 
 coeur, the woman resumed her work, or rather 
 made a pretence of doing so, by folding and un- 
 foldino: the thinsrs she had ironed, rather than 
 disturb the ladies by going to the grate for the 
 other iron. 
 
 " Your daughter, I suppose ?" asked Dorothy, 
 looking towards the girl, who, for want of any- 
 thing better, had been biting her finger, and 
 staring at her and Ruffle, ever since their entrance. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," sighed the poor woman. 
 
 " Have you a husband." 
 
 " No, ma'am, it pleased God to take him at 
 the time of the plague ; and I often wish that 
 none of us had been parted, but the Lord knows 
 best ; we can none of us go without our march- 
 ing orders, as my poor Joe used to say, he being 
 a soldier." 
 
 '^ Then you have only yourself and this girl ?" 
 
 " And her brother, ma'am, a lad of fourteen, 
 two year younger than her." 
 
 " And what does he do ?" 
 
 " Whatever he knows how, ma'am, and what- 
 ever he can get to do, and neither's much, chiefly 
 running errands and holding gentlemen's horses,
 
 1670. Climber Chase, 257 
 
 and calling the qualities' coaches at the playhouses, 
 but it^s sore against my grain, if I could help it, 
 his being about the streets so, but beggars 
 mustn't be choosers ; and as I always tell him to 
 try and be a good boy wherever he is, for God's 
 everywhere, in the worst places as well as the best, 
 and it's us he takes account of, and not the places 
 we are in. So they are no excuse for us if the 
 reckoning is not right at the last." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure you deserve to have a good 
 son, for he has a good mother." 
 
 " Thank you, ma^am, for your good opinion, 
 but such poor creatures as we can't be good, 
 all we can do is to try hard not to be bad." 
 
 " Which is the best of goodness," said Dorothy ; 
 " but I hope your daughter helps you." 
 
 " She would if she was able, ma'am, but I've 
 never been able to bide at home to teach her 
 much, and she's not strong, so she only stands 
 about while I and Joe work." 
 
 " They also serve who only stand and wait," 
 ejaculated Mrs. Euffle, casting up her eyes de- 
 voutly as she gave out the above, which may 
 fairly be called the servants' hall text, and which 
 no doubt she had often found peculiarly satisfac- 
 tory to footmen. 
 
 Dorothy could not repress a smile at this word 
 in season, so peculiarly out of season, and in 
 order to hide it, stooped down, and making a
 
 258 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 holder of her pockethandkercliief, took the iron 
 out of the consumptive fire, and brought it over 
 to the hostess. 
 
 '' Oh ! ma'am," said the poor woman, quite 
 overpowered, '^to think you should soil your 
 pretty hand and your dainty handkerchief touch- 
 ing my irons, and waiting on such as me." 
 
 " The least I can do is to be of some little use 
 while we keep you away from your own fire," 
 and before the woman could prevent her she took 
 the other iron from the table that the woman had 
 been using, and carried it over to the fire, em- 
 bedding it in the ashes from whence she had 
 taken the other, a proceeding which greatly 
 shocked Mrs. Euffle's lady's maid propriety of 
 feeling ; so much so, indeed, that she said, sotto 
 voce — 
 
 " I may be wrong, and perhaps it's very wrong 
 of me to say so ; but I think. Mistress Dorothy, it's 
 not a young lady's place to do such menial 
 of&ces." 
 
 "Ah! well; but you know. Ruffle, I never 
 was in place ; so can't be expected to understand 
 the proprieties." 
 
 " Oh ! the lightning," said Ruffle, placing 
 both her hands before her eyes, while Dorothy 
 called out — 
 
 " Put down your iron, good woman, while it 
 lightens so," and as she spoke, a clap of thunder
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 259 
 
 shook the miserable room — if room it could be 
 called — to its very foundation. 
 
 " Oh ! mother, the thunder !" screamed the 
 girl on the bed ; '^ is God angry with me ?" 
 
 '^ Not with you in particular, poor child," said 
 the mother, going over to her, taking her head 
 between her hands, and resting it against her 
 own bosom, while she patted her shoulder as 
 nurses do infants to hush them to sleep ; " but 
 goodness knows, He has reason enough to be 
 angry with this wicked city." 
 
 To which another loud clap of thunder seemed 
 to assent ; while she spoke, the rain came down 
 in such torrents, that a perfect rivulet flowed in 
 under the door, which could do no other harm 
 than to make the clay floor a little damper. 
 
 " It is fortunate it rains so, as there will be no 
 danger from the lightning." 
 
 " There — hear that, Bridget ; the lady says 
 there's no danger while it rains so." 
 
 " And poor Joe !" said the girl, " he'll be 
 drowned if he's out in it." 
 
 " Joe," said, or rather groaned the mother — 
 " he was born in a storm, has lived in a storm, 
 and ' He who rules the whirlwind and directs the 
 storm,' will take care of him." 
 
 While Eachel Ruffles ready cut and dry texts 
 always brought a smile to Dorothy's lips, this 
 poor woman's holy submission and unshakeable
 
 260 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 trust in God, brought tears into lier eyes ; for 
 verily, it was the finest and most touching ser- 
 mon she had ever heard in her life, and then and 
 there she laid it to heart to ponder on ever after, 
 when she winced at any of her own crumpled rose 
 leaves. While the woman was hushing and 
 soothing the apparently half-witted girl, the 
 door burst open, and in rushed the aforesaid Joe, 
 drenched to the skin, but jumping, capering, 
 and snapping his fingers like a maniac. 
 
 " Hoorah, mother ! Charing Cross for ever ! 
 We're saved ! — we're rich ! You shall work no 
 more ! Bridget shall wear silk ! and — and I'll 
 be a captain in lace, in father's old regiment !" 
 
 " Lord have mercy upon me ! Has the boy 
 gone clean out of his senses ?" 
 
 ^'Not clean, at all events, mother, for I'm up 
 to my knees in mud ; but to show you I'm not 
 raving, what do you think of THAT I" and he 
 flung a small, but bulky and heavy leather bag 
 down upon the table, which returned a metallic 
 chink, and was about to unloose the leather thong 
 that was twisted tightly round its neck, when 
 the mother, pale as ashes, laid her hand upon it, 
 and said, solemnly, fixing her eyes intently on 
 him — 
 
 '' Joseph Barton, where and how did you come 
 by that money ?" 
 
 " Honestly, mother."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 261 
 
 *' Honestly — impossible ! Gentlefolks don't 
 give bags of money to boys for holding horses 
 and calling coaches." 
 
 '' Well, I promise you I did not steal it ; so, 
 as I told you at first, mother, I came honestly by 
 it, and it is ours." 
 
 " Not till I know how you came by it," said 
 she, neither removing her hand from the bag nor 
 her scrutinising eyes from the boy's face. 
 
 '^ Of course you shall ; for I'm sure I don't 
 want to make a mystery of the most wonderful 
 piece of luck that ever happened to anyone — at 
 least to us. I had been holding a gentleman's 
 horse for more than an hour at the Mulberry 
 Tree Tavern, at Charing Cross; when he come 
 out he gave me sixpence ; it was the only one I 
 had got to-day, and heavy at heart I felt to have 
 no more to bring you home. Well, I waited and 
 waited, to get a chance of crossing over ; the 
 place was so thronged with traffic of every kind, 
 coaches, carts, horses, and waggons. At last a 
 clearish moment came; I dashed through the 
 mud as fast as I could tear, and just as I reached 
 the other side, I kicked something, that being 
 covered with mud, I thought was a stone, till I 
 heard it chink ! when I stooped down, and lo ! 
 and behold, it was this bag ! So now, mother, 
 out with your scissors and let us open it." 
 
 " Thank God it was no worse I" said Mrs. 
 Barton.
 
 262 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Worse ! Why, you don't suppose, mother, 
 T'd turn thief?" 
 
 " No, my boy, I don't," said the poor woman, 
 still tightly holding the bag, as she threw her 
 other arm round the lad's neck and burst out 
 crying. ^'No, Joe; I thank God that I don't 
 think in His mercy He'd let that trial come upon 
 me, for He knows I could not bear it. But, my 
 poor boy, we have no right to this money ; in 
 short, it will make us poorer, for it will cost us a 
 shilling to have it advertised upon the News 
 Books." 
 
 '^ Oh !" said poor Joe, with a petrified look 
 between resignation and despair, " I never 
 thought of that." 
 
 And here for the first time he perceived 
 Dorothy and Ruffle ; for, from the darkness, and 
 his great hurry and excitement, he had not seen 
 them on his entrance. So doffing his cap, he 
 bestowed on them his best bow, accompanied by 
 the obligato anterior kick out of his right foot, 
 of all those who like him, have learnt " deport- 
 ment" about the highways and byeways. 
 
 The tears were coursing down Dorothy's cheeks 
 at the scene she had just witnessed between the 
 mother and son. Here, verily God was served 
 in truth and in deed, under every trial and every 
 temptation, and under every pressure stretched 
 on poverty's cruellest rack of chronic and hopeless 
 privation. Oh! what were the little holiday
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 263 
 
 velvet clad toilettees virtues of the ricli, even 
 where they existed, chipped off in small splinters 
 from their supei-fluities, and gilt with the flattery 
 of parasites, compared to the rigid, unwavering, 
 unrecognised, disinterested, rectitude of this poor 
 woman, with only God for its witness, and His 
 law alone for its motive ; for at the moment, in 
 her terrible fear, least the boy should not have 
 come fairly by such a waif, she had completely 
 forgotten the presence of the two strangers, and 
 now that she remembered it, she turned and 
 humbly apologised to them, as if she had been 
 guilty of some unseemly act. 
 
 ^^ Pray make no apologies to me," said 
 Dorothy ; ^^ I feel grateful to you with a grati- 
 tude that will last me my life ; but both your 
 conduct and language are so superior to your 
 present position, that you have made me curious ; 
 not, I do assure you, with an impertinent and 
 unwarrantable curiosity, but with that of extreme 
 interest in the welfare of one I hope to serve, 
 because one who seems in every way so deserv- 
 ing. May 1 then ask where you were brought 
 up?" 
 
 " Aye, surely, madam ; I am only proud and 
 grateful to tell it. My maiden name was Audrey 
 Moore ; my father was gardener to, and had been 
 bred and born in the service of Sir James Bour- 
 chier, whose daughter, Madam Elizabeth, married
 
 264 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 — more's the pity ! — Oliver Cromwell, afterwards 
 the Lord Protector ; and in my lady Protectress's 
 household I was brought up, and served as a 
 laundrymaid, till I married my poor husband, 
 Joseph Barton, colour-sergeant in General Fair- 
 faxe's regiment. And God knows," added she, 
 wiping her eyes with her apron, '' had I been her 
 own child, Madam Cromwell could not have taken 
 more care of me ; and often and often, now in 
 my bitter struggle for an existence, which, if we 
 were free to choose — which we are not — I'd gladly 
 quit, I think of that dear good lady's words. 
 ' Audrey,' she would say to me, ' in prosperity 
 we can only give God words ; and prayer and 
 praise are perhaps all He requires while the sun 
 shines, but as the storm and wreck will come 
 more or less to all, we should, like the gladiators 
 of old, always be training ourselves for the 
 struggle ; for how we act under trials and temp- 
 tation is the test of our faith and our lip worship ; 
 and often and often in life, we find it harder to 
 bear God's will than to do it ; for in all action 
 there is relief, but the dull, stagnant, and al- 
 most hopeless routine of endurance, it requires 
 ALL our trust in God, and all our moral courage 
 to bear up under them.' And every day of my 
 life T feel the truth of her words, and bless her 
 for them." 
 
 " She must, indeed, have been a very good wo-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 265 
 
 man. I know my mother has a great regard and 
 respect for her, and I dare say the stories about 
 her parsimony and meanness are stories ?'' 
 
 "•' That are they, ma'am ; her head never was 
 turned by the sort of tinsel Court she'd been 
 much against her will raised to. She gave too 
 much to her suffering fellow-creatures, and there 
 are always only too many of that class to give to, 
 to allow anything like waste or extravagance, 
 and for that reason she looked after the Court — 
 as it is called — expenditure, as if it had been the 
 household of a private and not over rich gentle- 
 man ; and that of course, by all the hangers-on 
 of such places_, who generally fatten on the spoils 
 of their employers, got her the bad word of all 
 such. She was very plain and frugal, too, in her 
 own dress, but then how many hundreds she 
 dressed on the satins, velvets, and jewels she did 
 not wear." 
 
 ^^And the Protector, do you think he was 
 really religious, or merely an arch hypocrite, as 
 so many think him ?" 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I should say his religion was as 
 like Christianity as a mask is like a human face, 
 there are the outlines of all the features there, 
 but where is the vitality ? that is, the reality ; how 
 can a thoroughly worldly man, caring for and 
 grasping at nothing but power, be a religious 
 man ? because, how can he be a conscientious 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 man ? The Protector was a terrible tyrant ; it 
 was in him to be so. I used always in my own 
 mind compare liim to Herod the Tetrarch in a 
 small way, for of course in these days, and in 
 what is called a Christian country, he could not 
 slaughter, poison, strangle, and lie away people's 
 lives wholesale, as Herod did, but so far as the 
 different times and his very different amount of 
 power went, I don't think he left Herod much in 
 advance of him. However, who knows, here we 
 only ' see as through a glass darkly ?' And he 
 had the reputation, and I believe deserved it, 
 of conducting the machinery of the government 
 wisely and equitably, for that only requires head 
 work, of which he was quite capable. But the 
 ladies of the family, especially Madam Crom- 
 well and Mrs. Claypole, were as near angels as 
 anything can be on this side eternity, and Master 
 Eichard was a dear good gentleman as ever was, 
 and had no vocation for his father's trade, either 
 of usurpation or power." 
 
 As Mrs. Barton ceased speaking, a burst of sun- 
 shine darted through the miserable lattice, which 
 could not be said to gild, but which certainly 
 did display more saliently all the squalid horror 
 of this place, which the former obscurity had 
 toned down into a fine Rembrandt sort of invisi- 
 bility. 
 
 Dorothy thanked her, not only for her hospi-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 267 
 
 tality, but for her anecdotes of the Cromwells, 
 and then said — 
 
 "• You must let me come and see you soon 
 again, Mrs. Barton, and don't give yourself any 
 trouble about having that bag of money adver- 
 tised, as I'll have that done." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you a thousand times, ma'am, 
 and if it is not taking too great a liberty, and en- 
 croaching to much on your kindness, would jo\x^ 
 ma'am, take charge of the bag itself, as you are 
 witness we have not opened it, or meddled with 
 it in any way, and therefore do not know what 
 it contains ; and I do not like the responsibility 
 of keeping it in such a poor unguarded place as 
 this, both I and my boy having to be away from 
 the place so much, doing any odd job we can 
 get." 
 
 " With pleasure," said Dorothy. '^'U take 
 care of it, and bearwitness of your strictly honest 
 and honourable conduct from first to last about 
 it." 
 
 And she was about to take up the bag, when 
 Mrs. Barton said — 
 
 " Stop, ma'am, let me wrap it in a piece of 
 strong paper, for it may not be quite dry yet, 
 though I see Joe has wiped the mud off of it." 
 
 While she turned to look for the paper Dorothy 
 slipped an angel^ into Joe's hand, saying — 
 
 * An old English coin of the value of ten shillings. 
 
 N 2
 
 268 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 '^ I'm sorry, my boy, you were disappointed 
 about your prize, but you have a far greater 
 treasure in so good a mother, who brings you up 
 so well." 
 
 '^ I humbly thank you, madam," said Joe, 
 with another scrape, but, albeit, unused to enter- 
 taining angels, even ' unawares,' upon looking at 
 the gift, he said, " but you have made a mistake, 
 ma^am, this is an angel, and not a sLxpence." 
 
 '' I did not mean it for a sixpence. Keep it." 
 
 *' God bless you, ma'am, thank you. Look 
 here, mother, see what the lady has given me. 
 So you see the bag has brought us luck after 
 all," said he, as he gave the coin to his mother. 
 
 ''Oh! ma'am, God bless you; but this is 
 really too much. It's like robbing you to take 
 all this for your staying half an hour in this 
 miserable place out of the rain. It's a fortune 
 to us." 
 
 " Well," laughed Dorothy, " don't you know 
 that it never rains but it pours, and I hope it 
 may be the beginning of better fortune to you, 
 and I think it will. So now good-bye, and thank 
 you very much, Mrs. Barton, for your hospitality, 
 but as I may be for aught you know, a second 
 Judas carrying the bag — so — " 
 
 '' Oh ! ma'am," interrupted Mrs. Barton, " it 
 is nowhere written that Judas looked, any more 
 than he acted like an angel."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 269 
 
 " At all events, it is only right that you should 
 know with whom and where your bag of money 
 is going ; so, Ruffle, just tear a leaf out of your 
 pocket book, and write down the name and ad- 
 dress for Mrs. Barton." 
 
 Ruffle wrote the name and address, and gave 
 it to Mrs. Barton, who received it with a curtsey 
 and a " thank you ma'am :" but there was no 
 necessity for that, and she did not read it at the 
 time, as a vulgar minded woman would have done. 
 
 The rain had come down in such a deluge, that 
 the at all times dirty streets were comparatively 
 clean, when Dorothy and Ruffle again set out on 
 their way home, and though it was very wet 
 under foot, it was only water, not mud. Know- 
 ing how anxious her mother would be at her un- 
 usually long stay, coupled with such a terrific 
 storm, Dorothy walked as fast as she possibly 
 could, without actually running, till Ruffle, who 
 deprecated *^ hurry skurry" of any sort — more 
 especially in her own movements, as it not only 
 flurried her nerves, but what she thought even 
 worse, disarranged her dress — panted up to her 
 and gasped out, "You'll excuse me. Mistress 
 Dorothy, and perhaps it's very wrong of me to 
 say so, but all proverbs are true, and the more 
 haste the worse speed; and you must stop while I 
 pin up your white petticoat, the lace of which is 
 one mass of mud."
 
 270 Chmiber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind it, Ruffle ; I am all mud, 
 and we'll soon be home now, where I must, and 
 you too, change from head to foot." 
 
 ^' Oh ! but, ma'am, what will madam say, to 
 see that beautiful Dresden lace, at four guineas 
 a yard ! completely spoilt, and perhaps torn ?" 
 
 " Well, I hope she'll say and see," retorted 
 Dorothy, hurrying on, and not giving the horri- 
 fied Ruffle time to effect the meditated rescue ; 
 '' how foolish it is to trim shifts and petticoats 
 with Dresden lace ; and how much better it 
 would be to spend the money in flannel and 
 linen for those who have neither, as the Lady 
 Protectress did." 
 
 "I'm sure, for that matter," said Ruffle — this 
 accelerated speed having put all the verjuice in 
 her composition into a state of fermentation, 
 " madam is one of the charitablest ladies as ever 
 was ; and it can't be expected of anyone, that 
 they are to take off their skins, as if they were 
 eels, to give to the poor." 
 
 " Dear, how kind of them f" smiled the wicked 
 Dorothy ; " I was not aware that was a practise 
 of theirs, but now I know it I shall have such 
 a respect for them, that I'll never eat another eel 
 pie or matelotte as long as I live." 
 
 " Oh ! Mistress Dorothy," and Ruffle closed her 
 eyes and shook her head, as was her wont over 
 lost sheep, " I may be wrong, and perhaps it's
 
 1670. Clamber Chase. 271 
 
 very wrong of me to say so ; but you know very 
 well what I meant, and it had nothing whatever 
 to do with the eels, which are things I can't 
 abide, dressed or undressed." 
 
 Here they reached their own door, at which 
 they had no occasion to ring, it being wide open, 
 with Jessop and Lancelot posted at it, looking 
 out in all directions, while Mrs. Neville was 
 pacing up and down the hall, in too great a state 
 of perturbation to do anything else. 
 
 '' Good Heaven, child ! how you have fright- 
 ened me ; and where on earth were you during 
 that terrible storm ?" 
 
 " Quite safe and well, dear mother, as you 
 shall hear ; for I've so much to tell you, and a 
 great favour to ask you, which you must grant." 
 
 " I'll hear nothing, and I'll grant nothing till 
 you have taken off all your wet things ; and you 
 go and take off yours, Ruffle, and send Phoebe 
 up with some burnt sack to Mistress Dorothy's 
 room." 
 
 " Phoebehas been up in Mistress Dorothy's room 
 for the last half hour waiting for her/' said 
 Jessop. 
 
 " Oh ! mother, darling," said Dorothy, as they 
 went upstairs. 
 
 "Hush!" said Mrs. Neville, "I'll not hear a 
 word till you have changed your things." So 
 Dorothy was obliged to obey, and Phcebe, her
 
 272 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 maid, being all ready at her post, with the dry- 
 things airing before the fire, the drenched gar- 
 ments were soon changed, and Dorothy comfort- 
 ably inducted into her dressing-gown, and no 
 sooner was Phoebe dispatched down stairs for the 
 burnt sack, than she flung her arms round her 
 mother's neck, and bursting into tears, produced 
 her credentials of the bag of money, and then 
 told its and Audrey Barton's whole history, sa 
 far as she knew it, at which Mrs. Neyille was al- 
 most as much affected by Dorothy's graphic des- 
 cription, as if she had been an eye and ear wit- 
 ness of the scene. 
 
 " And now_, mama mia" said Dorothy, in con- 
 clusion, " the favour T haye to ask you is tJdSy 
 and if you refuse me Fll marry Master Hartsfoot 
 to-morrow, as I know he won't refuse me, and 
 never see your face again." 
 
 *^ Well, I'm sure !" laughed Mrs. Neville^ 
 " after such terrible threats I suppose I shall be 
 bullied into everything." 
 
 " Of course you will, like a good, dutiful, and 
 obedient mother, as you have ever been. Now 
 listen to my plan, and sign and seal on the spoty 
 unless you can suggest a better. You knew poor 
 Anne Smith, who kept our lodge at the Chest- 
 nuts, has been dead these six weeks ; you also 
 know that your head gardener, Archy McPherson^ 
 at great inconvenience to himself and his wife,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 273 
 
 has left his own cottage to keep the lodge till 
 you could be suited with a thoroughly respectable 
 trustworthy woman to replace Anne Smith, 
 which you have not yet been able to do. Xow it 
 seems to me, though none else have been able to 
 recommend you such a person, Providence has 
 this day done so in the person of that excellent 
 Audrey Barton, and if you could only see the 
 horrible place such a gem is lost in you would 
 understand what a treasure you have found, and 
 what a paradise the lodze at the Chestnuts would 
 be to this poor worthy soul and her family after 
 the bare, dark, miserable dungeon they are now 
 in. Xow, if it's yes don't answer me, only kiss 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Xeville did not answer her, but threw her 
 arms round her dear child's neck and strained 
 her to her heart. 
 
 "Ten thousand, thousand thanks, my own 
 dear best of mothers, and now to show you that I 
 have some gratitude in my composition, I promise 
 you," said Dorothy, flinging a saucy smile at her 
 mother over her shoulder, as she walked to an 
 escretoire at the other end of the room, to lock up 
 the bag of money that Joe Barton had found. 
 "Yes, I promise you solemnly that my ^^lliaxce' 
 with Master Hartsfoot shall be postponed sine 
 die," 
 
 s 5
 
 274 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 lE^ 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RESTOEATION. 
 
 :HE day after Master Hartsfoot had 
 led Ms forlorn hope to Sir Peter 
 Lely's, he woke with a weight upon 
 his heart about poor Hollar's uncer- 
 tain fixture ; though, for that matter, even for the 
 best placed and most prosperous, are not all 
 futures uncertain ? And a slight pressure upon 
 his conscience, from having for two whole days 
 deserted his post as master of the revels to 
 Dorothy, still a rimpossible nul n^est tenu, and 
 as poverty and pleasure, misery and mirth, al- 
 ways have been and always will be moral anti- 
 podes, how could he reconcile the two? Never- 
 theless, he rose an hour earlier than usual, and 
 resolved, after he had seen Hollar, superintended 
 the arrangement of his work room, and break- 
 fasted, that he would don his harness and repair 
 to Mrs. Neville's for his daily orders ; previous to 
 which he had the satisfaction of finding his pro- 
 tege in Axe Yard much better, and delighted with 
 Mrs. Barton's care and attention, and with Mrs.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 275 
 
 Barton herself ; and in his own mind, for he took 
 care not to express it before his generous friend, 
 Hartsfoot regretted, as he had so often done be- 
 fore, how that petty tyrant, poverty, ever steps in 
 between her victims and their wishes, for he had 
 that morning heard that Marjery (the ossified 
 north wind) would be able to return to her post 
 in a fortnight, and he could not help wishing 
 that he couldafford to have kept Mrs. Barton, too, 
 who was so much poor Marjery's superior in 
 every way. But Master Oliver knew nothing of 
 this ; he merely saw with great satisfaction the 
 moral and physical improvement of the poor in- 
 valid, and told him that he had had the bag of 
 money containing the fifty pounds that Eoger 
 Marner had lost, advertised on the newsbooks, 
 and that he had no doubt the money would be 
 recovered, as, indeed, he resolved in his own 
 mind that someway or other it should; after 
 which cheering assurance he took leave of his 
 friend and returned home to breakfast, which he 
 had no sooner finished than he walked to the 
 glass — a habit he had contracted lately, always 
 previous to his going to the house on the Mall, 
 to see that his dress was point device as that of 
 squire of dames should be, and yet, if all this 
 care was taken for Dorothy (?) T am sorry to say 
 it was wasted upon a little undeserving ingrate, 
 who never remarked what he wore, except that
 
 276 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 she thought he always looked yqtj nice, and would 
 have thought him so had he appeared before her 
 in a flour sack, with holes cut in it for his arms 
 to come through. Having rang to have the 
 breakfast things removed, Noah Pump handed 
 him his hat and gloves, the same he had worn 
 when he went to Axe Yard that morning. 
 
 '' ISTot this ; the last new beaver Holden sent 
 home." 
 
 " It looks very like rain, sir." 
 
 Master Oliver was busy arranging the tassels 
 of his collar, so he did not hear this prudent 
 parenthesis ; at least, he made no reply to it. 
 Noah brought Holden'slast chef d'oeuvre, arrang- 
 ing the glossy sable plumes, and sighing over 
 them as if they had been those of a hearse. Find- 
 ing that his master took this piece of magnifi- 
 cence and put it on with no more respect than if 
 it had been his nightcap, Noah thought it his 
 duty to speak out plainly. 
 
 " You'll excuse me, sir, but should it rain there 
 goes five pounds ten before a person would have 
 time to sneeze." 
 
 " Pooh ! Noah," smiled his master, '' as you've 
 often heard my Lord Worcester say, we can't 
 counteract the nature of things, and it's the nature 
 of a beaver, you know, to take to the water." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but what I'm afeared on is that 
 the water should take to the beaver."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 277 
 
 ^' Bring me a pair of new gloves." 
 
 ^^ Lord, sir ! these was new this morning ; it's 
 all very well for flimsy things like governments 
 to change hands so often, and go from Kings to 
 Protectors, and from Protectors to Kings ; but 
 gloves is gloves, and leather's leather, which is 
 much more solider, and so should nat'rally last 
 longer." 
 
 " Yery true, Noah ; but I soiled the gloves 
 you gave me this morning arranging dusty 
 books." 
 
 " Hang them books !" muttered Xoah, to him- 
 self, as he went for the gloves ; " they're always 
 kicking up a dust of some kind. If they was 
 mine, I'd dust 'em to some purpose, by adding 
 bell and candle light to 'em ! instead of which, 
 we shall be having them ere Saveons here again 
 next week to make more litter." 
 
 As soon as the fresh gloves were brought and 
 put on. Master Hartsfoot issued through the 
 glass door in his dining-room, which opened 
 upon the Mall, and had hardly got beyond its 
 threshold before he met Mr. Locke, who was 
 coming to his house ; he offered to go back. 
 
 " On no account," said Locke ; " I was merely 
 coming to ask you to dine with me and a few 
 more of our friends to-day, at Chatelins, the 
 French house in Coven t Garden." 
 
 '' Thanks — to-day I cannot ; but you know
 
 278 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 next week you all sup witli me, and Lord Wor- 
 cester has promised to show us the experiment of 
 igniting water." 
 
 " That's a secret that it would be worth the 
 government's while to purchase/' rejoined Mr. 
 Locke ; "for otherwise, none of our present rulers 
 are ever likely to set the Thames on fire. I hear 
 there was sad work in the House yesterday about 
 secret intelligence, or rather the want of it, and 
 Secretary Morrice told them that he was allowed 
 but £700 a-year for obtaining intelligence, 
 whereas, in Cromwell's time, the Protector 
 allowed £70,000 a-year for it, which statement 
 was confirmed by Colonel Birch, who added that, 
 thereby Cromwell carried in his girdle the secrets 
 and policies of all the European Powers " 
 
 "There can be no doubt," said Hartsfoot, 
 " that the secret of all salutary economy, whether 
 in states or households, does not consist in mere 
 retrenchment, and 7'iot spending, but in knowing 
 when, and where, and how to spend ; for the 
 most wanton extravagance ever committed, either 
 in states or households, often arises from the 
 not making a necessary outlay at the proper 
 time." 
 
 "Unquestionably/' said Locke: "but no 
 country can be practically well governed that is 
 only theoretically governed as England is, with 
 a maximum of talk and a minimum of super-
 
 1670. Chimher Chase. 279 
 
 vision. Xo household can go on without a mis- 
 tress's eye ; no business without a master's. 
 TVith modification, Cromwell was right in his 
 maxim of 'hang well and pay well;' but we 
 waste an immensity of time in making laws too 
 severe to carry out, which is, in other words, 
 offering a premium for evil doing. In France 
 and Holland, the government at once and effect- 
 ually prevent adulteration of food and every other 
 species of adulteration, by making the spurious 
 articles that would be used to adulterate them, 
 three times as dear as the genuine ingredients. 
 And false weights and measures are as effectually 
 prevented, by having the delinquent's name and 
 fraud emblazoned in large letters, in his own 
 shop, so as that all who run may read ; and no 
 man, consequently, will incur such ruinous dis- 
 grace for the sake of a little temporary cheating. 
 Whereas, we sapiently impose a trumj^ery and 
 inadequate fine upon our rogues, who merely 
 look upon it as paying their way, to secure the 
 right of cheating double tides. The end of 
 punishment should be amendment, and not mere 
 suffering; and legislation will never be sound 
 and comprehensive till it discovers the art of 
 making it the interest of the mass to be honest 
 and their greatest peril to be the reverse. And 
 of this art, Cromwell's ' haxg well axd pay 
 well' was the nucleus, which being paraphrased,
 
 280 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 simply means, let your punisliments and your 
 rewards both be adequate and effectual. But 
 tbougli we have plenty of blacksmith's forges, 
 we never seem to learn the art of striking while 
 the iron is hot in anything, which, I suppose 
 arises from our national phlegm. Yesterday, 
 when it was moved that the King's speech should 
 be considered, because that in the first part of it, 
 the league to which he alludes was the only good 
 public measure of his since the Eestoration, yet 
 no ; the spirit of procrastination is so strong in all 
 our public affairs, that it was voted nejn. con. that 
 it should be adjourned till next Friday, to be con- 
 sidered of.'^ 
 
 " So Lord Worcester told me, whom I met 
 last night at the Club in the Pell Mell ; and he 
 also told me of a shocking thing when he was 
 last in Paris, of some poor man of the name of 
 Cans, or Caius, or some such name, who was in- 
 carcerated at Bicetre, as a lunatic, who is far 
 more sane than any of the wretches who shut 
 him up ; his insanity being nothing more than 
 his maintaining, and, as Lord Worcester says, 
 most lucidly and logically proving the practicabi- 
 lity of utilizing Archimede's old discovery of the 
 power of steam, so as to propel both vessels at 
 sea and vehicles on land, at the rate of thirty 
 miles an houi' or more." 
 
 ** Then, of course he is mad," said Locke 5
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 281 
 
 *' for insanity is the stereotyped label, that the 
 ignorance and prejudice of every age has for all 
 those pioneers who have the misfortune either to 
 think, or to make discoveries, greatly in advance 
 of their own times. The laughed at, or perse- 
 cuted ^visionaries,' as they are thought and 
 called, of one epoch, are the pioneers of science, 
 who make the great world-wide thoroughfare on 
 Time's highway for the plodding, practical money 
 scraping men of succeeding ages to travel by 
 and traffic on, and what are deemed the Utopias 
 of enthiasists — so long as they are only in their 
 germ or seed state of thought — grow at last into 
 laws and statutes ; like acorns, which, as acorns, 
 are only deemed worthy of being food for swine, 
 yet when time has fructified them into oaks, then 
 their utility and importance are found to be in- 
 dispensable. For that matter, I wonder that poor 
 Worcester himself, from his almost miraculous 
 mechanical genius and scientific acumen, has iiot 
 been treated to chains and a strait waistcoat 
 long since." 
 
 '^ It is a wonder ; last night it made my blood 
 boil at the Club, to see a set of asses grinning 
 and winking at each other, when he was pro- 
 pounding to me, a certainly very subtle and ex- 
 traordinary theory that he has, touching the 
 wondrous and ubiquitous powers of electricity.
 
 282 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 He says lie is quite certain that if lie could only 
 embue half a dozen other minds with his own 
 thorough conception and perception of the sub- 
 ject, he would undertake to convey, through its 
 agency, almost instantaneous intelligence from 
 pole to pole !'* 
 
 " I, for one, don't doubt it," said Locke ; <^ for 
 in physical science, once discover the principle 
 and properties of any agent, and its perfectability 
 and practicability become merely matters of time 
 and study." 
 
 " I confess I should like," rejoined Hartsfoot, 
 ^' to live to see the lightning broken to har- 
 ness !" 
 
 " Whether you live to see it or not, depend 
 upon it the electric fluid will be tamed and har- 
 nessed before the passions and vices of men 
 are." 
 
 " I fear so. Don't you think poor Lord Wor- 
 cester is looking very ill ?" 
 
 " Ah ! poor fellow, I don't doubt but he is 
 suffering from the old Cavalier heart complaint 
 of royal ingratitude, just as his coffers have con- 
 tracted incureable atrophy in the same cause. I 
 almost wonder that the very stones composing 
 Raglan Castle do not propel themselves from 
 their cement with indignation, and come crash- 
 ing down upon White Hall !"
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 283 
 
 " It Tvould certainly seem as if all the cold 
 water in the castle reservoirs^ had not been used 
 against the Roundheads, but that the present 
 King had retained a good supply to throw upon 
 the claims of those who had done his father's 
 cause and his own such signal service." 
 
 " Do let us return to my house," said Harts- 
 foot, ^^ you may take cold standing here." 
 
 "Xo, no, I must be going, for Lord Ashley 
 is waiting for me at Durham Yard ;t so good-bye 
 till next Thursday." 
 
 And the friends shook hands and separated. 
 These prolonged ^^ greetings in the market place " 
 and other quarters, were the natural result of a 
 newsless, because daily-paperless state of society; 
 
 * This fine, brave, loyal Cavalier, Edward Marquis of Worces- 
 ter — like so many more — impoverished himself in befriending and 
 defending Charles the First, without obtaining any acknowU dg- 
 ment or recompense from Charles the Second. Daring the Civil 
 Wars, lie was the owner and occupier of Eaglan Castle. He had 
 constructed some hydraulic engines and wheels for conveying 
 water from the moat to the top of the castle, or great tower ; and 
 upon the approach of some of the belligerent Eoundheads, Lord 
 Worcester determined to startle them by a display of his engineer- 
 ing skill. He accordingly gave orders to set the waterworks 
 playing, of the efi"ect oc which he writes as follows : — " There was 
 such a roaring, that the poor silly men stood so amazed, as if 
 they had been all deac, and yet they saw nothir.g ; at last, as the 
 plot was laid, up comes a man. staring and runniDg, crying out 
 before he came to them. ' Look to yourselves, my masters, for the 
 lions are got loose.' Whereupon, the searchers gave us such a 
 loose, that they tumbled down the stairs, that it was thought 
 one-half of them had broke their necks, never looking behind 
 them till they were sure they had got out of the Castle." 
 
 t Durham Yard, so called, from the palace built there by 
 Thomas de Hatfield, Bishop of Durham, as the town residence 
 for himself and his successors. It stood on the site of the build- 
 ings, now called the Adelphi, and was, in Charles the Second's 
 time, one of the most fashionable parts of London,
 
 284 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 all news was only to be gleaned and inaccurately 
 collected by verbal communication and oral tra- 
 dition, and so slowly did all intelligence travel in 
 those days that an acquaintance or a person of 
 eminence might die in the next street and their 
 friends and the public not become aware of the 
 fact for ten days or a fortnight after it had oc- 
 curred, which cannot be wondered at, when it is 
 remembered that that slow, but by no means 
 sure medium, " a private hand," had chiefly to do 
 the work of modern five or six times a day posts, 
 railways, steam boats, and electric and sub- 
 marine ! telegraphs. 
 
 '' Peccavi^'" said Master Hartsfoot, holding his 
 hand before his face as he entered Mrs. Neville's 
 drawing-room, "• but for the last few days I've 
 had business, imj)erative, but by no means agree- 
 able, which did not leave a minute at my disposal 
 to come and take your commands, MistressDoro thy, 
 but to-nightthere are two novelties, at the Duke's 
 House, a play of Dryden's called ^ Evening Love,' 
 a poor thing, I understand though \iis Dryden's, 
 and he thinks so himself; and at the King's 
 House the first night of ^ir Charles Sedley's new 
 play ' The Mulberry Garden.' '* 
 
 " Well, with my consent," said Mrs. I^eville, 
 '^ any play of Sir Charles Sedley's she'll not go 
 to." 
 
 " Nor does she want to go to it ; so mamina
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 285 
 
 cara mia^ as consents are of great value some- 
 times^ yon should always keep them for those who 
 solicit them," said Mistress Dorothy, looking ex- 
 ceedingly saucy, as, having pinned her mother with 
 this little impertinence, she turned to her other 
 slave and commanded him to sit down, where- 
 upon she said, as she leant back in her chair and 
 joined the ends of her pretty little rose-tipped 
 fingers together — 
 
 " Ahem I and pray, Master Hartsfoot, do you 
 think that no one has important business but 
 yourself? I have been in no humour for plays 
 or pageants these last two days, 1 assure you ; but 
 goaded by your base desertion I have been on 
 the highway accumulating bags of money, but as 
 '- conscience makes cowards of us all,' like you I 
 now cry ' peccaci,'' and want you to help me to 
 hunt out the rightful owner. I have sent adver- 
 tisements to the newsbooks, but that is slow 
 work." 
 
 Master Hartsfoot looked as he felt, completely 
 mystified. 
 
 " Nay, Thea, leave riddles, and tell Master 
 Hartsfoot the exact history of that money, which 
 is so much to the credit of those poor people." 
 
 " Very well," said she rising, placing a foot- 
 stool for Master Hartsfoot, a screen between him 
 and the fire, and taking his hat and placing it on 
 a table with a care as regarded the feathers and
 
 286 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 the right way of the beaver that would greatly 
 have modified one of Noah Pump's stock apho- 
 risms had he seen it, to the efi'ect " that all women 
 are more or less fools, and delight in destruction 
 as monkeys do in mischief." " Very well," said 
 she, re-seating herself, " it is a long story, and I 
 must ' settle you,' as I always do myself at 
 church, when the sermon sets in, for if one is 
 not comfortable one cannot attend, particularly 
 when Dr. Stillingfleet preaches, who, I am sorry 
 to say, generally takes a glass too much."^ 
 
 "Oh, fie! Thea you are too bad!" laughed 
 Mrs. Neville, as she shook her head, while Master 
 Hartsfoot's sides gently undulated for several 
 seconds. As briefly as she could, without omit- 
 ting any of the flemish details by which she had 
 brought the scene at Audrey Barton's so vividly 
 before her mother on the previous day, Dorothy 
 repeated the history of her having taken shelter 
 at Mrs. Barton's, and the circumstance of Joe 
 Barton's having found the bag with the money 
 at Charing Cross. "Now," added she, in con- 
 clusion, " don't talk to me of your Roman virtue 
 — with all Rome for spectators — after this poor 
 woman's Christian virtue, with no witness but 
 God, and His vicegerent her own conscience." 
 
 * It was customary at that time, and indeed long after, for 
 clergymen to preach by an hour glass, and when the sands had 
 run out without their sermon having come to a conclusion, they 
 would turn up the time-keeper, merely remarking to the congre- 
 gation, " Nuw, my brethren, we will take another glass."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 287 
 
 " I won't," said Hartsfoot, as the tears filled 
 his eyes ; '^ but something must be done to put 
 such virtue beyond any more such ordeals." 
 
 " Something has been done," replied Dorothy, 
 " for my dear good mother has given her the 
 Lodge Cottage, at The Chestnuts ; but on going 
 to her with the glad tidings this morning, I 
 found from ' Joe,' that she had been called away 
 yesterday evening to some employment for the 
 next fortnight. So we must wait that time, as 
 well as we can ; for I shall have no sleep till I 
 see the trio installed in that bright, pretty lodge 
 out of that dismal dungeon, only fit for rats and 
 toads." 
 
 " Audrey Barton you said her name was ?" 
 asked Master Hartsfoot. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Strange ! how circumstances dove-tail them- 
 selves into one another. I think I can tell you 
 where Mrs. Barton has got employment." And 
 he then told how, on the preceding evening, be- 
 ing in want of a trustworthy person to attend 
 upon a poor friend of his who was ill, Alice 
 Merrypin had strongly recommended Mrs. Bar- 
 ton. '' And I think," added he, " I shall be 
 able to rescue the poor boy Barton from the 
 streets, as Pump has long been importuning me 
 to let him have a boy under him, declaring that 
 the ' saveons' make too much work for him."
 
 288 Clurnher Chase. 1670. 
 
 ^' Tliank you — tliank you, dear good Master 
 Hartsfoot," said Dorothy, starting up and taking 
 both his hands, and shaking them. '' There ! I 
 hope I have not hurt you," she added, resuming 
 her seat ; ^'but the fact is, there is no one in 
 this house to do anything that ought to be done, 
 but me." 
 
 Whether it was this announcement that 
 shocked Master Hartsfoot, or any other cause, 
 has never been rightly ascertained ; but certain 
 it is, that the blood mounted not only to his 
 cheeks, but to the roots of his hair, and over his 
 ears, so that at that moment he would have made 
 a very good charade en action of being '' over 
 head and ears." However, as that is a sort of 
 thing that never lasts — except in a case of debt 
 — he soon recovered himself sufficiently to say — 
 
 '^ Do you know I think I can give you a clue 
 to the owner of the bag Joe Barton found at 
 Charing Cross ; so far, at least, as knowing a 
 person who dropped a bag there containing £50, 
 in divers coins, angels. Jacobuses, pieces of 
 eight, &c., &c." And he then told them of Roger 
 Marner having two days before dropped such a 
 bag there or thereabouts, when sent by Hollar to 
 Lord Arundel's for the money. 
 
 " Oh ! that is delightful," cried Dorothy. 
 " I'm sure it must be the bag, though I don't 
 know what is in it, having, of course, taken care
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 289 
 
 not to open it ; but I'll go for it, and if yon think 
 it looks like the lost sheep, the best way will be 
 for you, Master Hartsfoot, to have the goodness 
 to take it to Mr. Hollar ; show it to the man who 
 lost a bag, and before allowing it to be opened, 
 make him state the amount of money that was in 
 his bag, and the different coins composing the 
 amount, and see whether the contents of Joe 
 Barton's treasure trove answers in every particu- 
 lar, both as to the amount and the different 
 coins, making up the amount to the bag the man 
 Marner lost." 
 
 " A second Daniel come to judgment !" smiled 
 Hartsfoot. 
 
 '^ No persiflage, Master Hartsfoot; for I won't 
 allow anyone to laugh at me but myself, although 
 you may think that is undertaking too much 
 work for one person to do properly." 
 
 " But I'm not laughing at you, Mistress 
 Dorothy ; on the contrary, I very much doubt 
 whether, in Westminster Hall, they would have 
 come to half so righteous and equitable a deci- 
 sion, and I am very certain they would not have 
 done so in so short a time." 
 
 " Which being interpreted, means— that con- 
 sidering I have no horsehair, I am not after all 
 such an ass,^' said Dorothy, pulling both her little 
 shell-like ears. 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " They are not evidence," langbed Master 
 Oliver. 
 
 " Nothing that is evident, ever appears to me 
 to be taken as evidence in your courts of law ; 
 but as it is very evident, at least to me^ that you 
 are a dear, good kind soul, before I go for the 
 bag I must again thank you for promising to 
 take that poor boy Barton.^' 
 
 " No thanks are due to me, as I do so entirely 
 from a selfish motive ; I think the mother such 
 an admirable woman. I don't mean solely from 
 the one act about this money, but from her whole 
 life, for I have a theory, or rather a conviction, 
 that no one ever does a good or noble act, or 
 commits a villanous or mean one, without hav- 
 ing long led up to the former by a course of 
 systematic good, or to the latter with a chronic 
 routine of evil. I am quite angry with Merrypin 
 that as she knew of them, she never let me know 
 of these Bartons before." 
 
 ^^ It was, I suppose," said Dorothy, as she left 
 the room, "because she knew you too well, and 
 therefore knew that if you were made aware of 
 every case of distress, you would yourself soon 
 become one of the most flagrant cases, and so, 
 like Othello, her ' occupation would be gone.'" 
 
 " Indeed, Master Hartsfoot, I fear Thea is 
 right," said Mrs. Neville, as her daughter closed 
 the door, and then, as some persons think that
 
 1670. Clumber Ckase, 291 
 
 the best way of warding off observation from 
 their own short comings is freely to discuss the 
 faults of others, finding her companion made no 
 reply, she went on to say — " You were good 
 enough to call upon young Broderick about a 
 fortnight ago, the day after his plunge into the 
 Thames to rescue a man from drowning, the 
 night you and Thea went to that horrid Bear 
 Garden ; have you seen anything of him since ? 
 Odd enough, the person he rescued is the brother 
 of our dear, good vicar at Richmond, Dr. Fair- 
 brace." 
 
 " No, I have not ; finding him none the worse 
 for his nocturnal bath the day after when I called 
 upon him, and when he returned my visit, I was 
 out ; and as I am now pretty well known to be 
 Mistress Dorothy's escort to public places, I 
 thought you would not like — on account of Sir 
 Allen — for me to cultivate too close an intimacy 
 with the young man, which otherwise I should 
 much like to have done, for I never saw a young 
 fellow I liked or thought better of." 
 
 " Truly, as you say, on Sir Allen's account — 
 oh ! what that horrid, selfish, tyrannical man 
 will have to answer for, in the gratuitous way in 
 which he has tortured his whole family. I really 
 believe literally^ that my dear and inestimable 
 friend Phillida Broderick's death will be laid at 
 his door ; I do not think with her fine constitu- 
 
 o 2
 
 292 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 tion, her bodily ills would have told upon her for 
 years, but estranged from all she loves by her 
 detestable brother's petty tyranny, she is pining 
 away from a broken heart ; of all heart com- 
 plaints it may be the slowest, but it is unques- 
 tionably the surest. I dare not show Thea her 
 last letter which I got yesterday ; it is, despite 
 all her exalted spiritual resignation, written in 
 such a hopelessly depressed strain." 
 
 *"' I often think," sighed Hartsfoot, " what a 
 stupendous history might be written of the un- 
 legislated for murders, spoliations, perjuries, and 
 cruelties committed within the safe, because as 
 custom makes them sacred, precincts of private 
 life, perpetrated by those irresponsible domestic 
 Herods, Neros, and Caligulas, the heads of 
 families, whose only audit begins and ends in 
 getting themselves up well, ' to strut and fret 
 their hour' on the stage of public life. But then, 
 to be sure, such men are invariably furnished 
 with an inexhaustible store of hypocrisy. Hypoc- 
 risy ! the only evil which remains invisible to 
 all but God." 
 
 " Yes, and which was the only sin that God 
 when on earth had no toleration for," said Mrs. 
 Neville. 
 
 ^a'm glad," sighed Master Hartsfoot, "that 
 Mistress Dorothy makes such a brave fight against 
 her adverse fortune."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 293 
 
 " Nay, 'tis but woman's bravery at best ; more 
 appearance than reality, as in besieged castles, 
 strategy will often send one poor sheep twenty 
 times a day to make its entrance into the keep, 
 so as to deceive the enemy into supposing the 
 garrison is well supplied. But there is in Dorothy's 
 nature a deep well of love and trust, where love 
 and trust can never be betrayed, and as she her- 
 self says, when wincing under the pain, it is but 
 like an unreasoning dog, to bite the stone instead 
 of succumbing to the hand which aims the blow, 
 or else why say, ^ thy will be done?" 
 
 ^^ Why, indeed," said Hartsfoot, '' and she 
 is—" 
 
 But he could not finish the sentence, as that 
 moment the subject of their conversation returned 
 with the bag for which she had gone. 
 
 " I don't think there can be any pieces of eight 
 in this bag," said Master Hartsfoot, first feeling 
 and then weighing it in his hand; ^^ the coins 
 seem to be two small, all like Jacobuses and 
 Angels." 
 
 " TVell that can be soon ascertained by Thea's 
 plan of asking the man at Mr. Hollar's what 
 were the diiferent coins in the bag he lost ; and 
 as you are good enough to go about this, and to 
 come back and relieve our anxiety, or what you 
 men, I suppose, would call our curiosity, you 
 must add to your kindness by dining with us.
 
 294 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 as we shall not dine before two to-day ; and I'm 
 sure Mrs. Merrypin would not like your dinner, 
 or rather her dinner, as artists in her department 
 always call it, to incur any such ruinous delays." 
 " Thank you ; but to-day I fear I cannot, 
 for—" 
 
 " Fear nothing ; and but me no buts ; or 
 tremble at my vengeance. Master Hartsfoot, if I 
 do not see you at my dinner," laughed Dorothy, 
 holding up her finger menacingly. 
 
 *^ Well I certainly don't fear anything so gentle 
 and gentille^ as you. Mistress Dorothy." 
 
 " Ah !" said she, shaking her head, " don't pin 
 your faith upon either of those, but remember 
 what Mr. Butler so truly says in his inimitable 
 Hudibras — 
 
 ** ' As thistles wear the softest down 
 To hide their prickles till they're grown, 
 And then declare themselves and tear 
 Whatever ventures to come near.' 
 
 " But as bribes should always accompany threats, 
 the one being quite worthy of the other, I may 
 as well tell you that I have some of your favourite 
 K atherine pears for you, and such grapes ! both 
 from Hampton Court, made to pay toll on their 
 way to Whitehall." 
 
 " Nay," smiled Hartsfoot, " after your terrible 
 threats I should fear they were prickly pears ; 
 besides, knowing how the King values that vine
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 295 
 
 at Kampton Court, rm not sure tliat the grapes 
 would not be a case of lese Majeste,^' 
 
 " Not that ; only the King sometimes finds 
 the grapes sour as well as other people, and that 
 reminds me that I am very happy to tell you that 
 the Duchess of Richmond^ is 7iot disfigured, and 
 very little altered by the small-pox.-" 
 
 '• I am delighted to hear it." 
 
 '^ So ought every one," said Mrs. Neville, "for 
 we have so much to be ashamed of that we may 
 well be proud that the most beautiful woman at 
 Court is also the most virtuous ; but after having 
 withstood so long a siege, I confess I was sorry 
 to hear that she was sworn in of the Queen's 
 Bedchamber yesterday." 
 
 ^" So am I," said Hartsfoot, " and I wonder at 
 the duke's consenting to it, more especially after 
 last Tuesday's scandal ?" 
 
 " What was that ?" asked Mrs. Neville. 
 
 "Why, the state coach was ordered, and a de- 
 tachment of guards to escort the King to Hyde 
 Park with the rest of the Court, when his foot 
 was on the step of the coach, he turned back, 
 suddenly dismissed them all, and going down 
 \\'hite Hall stairs threw himself into a barge, 
 and had himself rowed to Somerset House to 
 visit the Duchess of Richmond ; but on arriving 
 
 * La belle Stewart, Charles the Second being unable to obtain 
 her, had her eflfigy aa Britannia engraved on the coin of the 
 realm.
 
 296 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 at the garden gate lie found it locked, whereupon 
 he clambered over the wall." 
 
 '^ He was only going to the park in state," 
 said Mrs. JSTeville, '' but clambering over walls to 
 visit ladies I suppose is a scale of royal magnifi- 
 cence more suited to his taste." 
 
 Here Jessop came into the room with a note 
 for Mrs. Neville, there was also a parcel on the 
 salver, which she was about to take first, when 
 he said — 
 
 "• That is for Mistress Dorothy, madam," and 
 handed it to her accordingly, saying to his 
 mistress — 
 
 " Upton waits an answer, madam." 
 
 ^' Oh !" said Mrs. Neville, turning to Harts- 
 foot, " it is &om my father, who says he'll dine 
 with us to day. You have no objection to meet- 
 ing him, have you ?" 
 
 '' On the contrary 1 shall be delighted. How 
 is Sir Charles ?" 
 
 " Quite well, thank you, indeed surprisingly so. 
 My love and duty, Jessop, and we shall be truly 
 glad to see Sir Charles. But we don^t dine till 
 two to-day, though of course we shall be de- 
 lighted to see him as much sooner as he can do 
 us the favour of coming." 
 
 *^ HI send an answer," said Torothy, adding, 
 as soon as Jessop had left the room, " for one 
 cannot send kisses by a servant, and I must give
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 297 
 
 him a dozen at least for his presents — a pair for 
 every pair of stockings/' 
 
 And she laughingly displayed six pairs of 
 emerald green silk stockings. 
 
 "And now Fll read you his note, for your 
 true cavalier cannot be cacalier, but must be 
 galant even to his granddaughter." 
 
 " My Dear Thea,— 
 
 " As the Duke of York says, ' quHl 
 rCy a point de salut pour unejambe sans bas verts,'* 
 I herewith send you some, at the risk of your 
 putting your foot in your salvation ! I know 
 nothing about the leg, but can vouch for your 
 having the prettiest foot and ankle, out of Fairy 
 Land, where I suppose they all wear green stock- 
 ings, with daisy cloaks. So pray wear these for 
 the sake of your faithful servant, 
 
 '' And affectionate grandfather, 
 
 " Charles Wheeler." 
 
 ^^ Now, don't you think that a charming poulet 
 for seventy-eight ?" 
 
 '' He is, indeed, a dear old man in every way," 
 said Hartsfoot. 
 
 " Once a gentleman always a gentleman," said 
 Mrs. Neville; "and my father was born, and 
 
 * See Memoirs de Grammont about Lady Chesterfield's green 
 silk stockings. 
 
 o 5
 
 298 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 flourislied in the days when there were gentlemen, 
 and when the Court had not degenerated into the 
 Bear Garden, and something worse that it is 
 now. Just fancy a peer of the realm in Charles 
 the First's time, boxing a gentleman's ears in 
 the presence ! Well, last Wednesday, my Lord 
 Rochester, irritated at Tom Killigrew's persiflage 
 at dinner, gave him a ringing box on the ear be- 
 fore the King." 
 
 " Is it possible ! Well, I hope he was sent to 
 the Tower for it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! dear no ; anything that amuses the 
 King — no matter how great or indecorous the 
 liberty taken with himself in doing it — is sure to 
 find favour in his eyes. So my Lord Rochester's 
 only reprimand was to be seen walking arm-in- 
 arm with the King the next morning, on the 
 Mall ; and I verily believe, that it would have 
 been just the same, had he boxed the King's own 
 ears." 
 
 " Well, really it is too bad ; and where it is 
 all to end Heaven only knows. I sometimes 
 think that Evelyn is right, and that such a satur- 
 nalia, en permanence in a Court, must drift us 
 into a republic," said Hartsfoot, as he rose to^ 
 
 go. 
 
 ^' Would you have the goodness to ring the 
 bell, Master Hartsfoot ? I forgot to give Jessop 
 a message about dinner."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 299 
 
 Hartsfoot rang, and then taking his hat off the 
 table where Dorothy had so carefully placed it, 
 said — '' I shall go now to Hollar's directly, and 
 hope to bring back good tidings about the found 
 money." 
 
 As he was about to leave the room, Jessop 
 answered the bell. 
 
 " Tell, Butson," said Mrs. Xeville, " to be sure 
 and have some quilted pigeons for dinner, as my 
 father dines here ; and tell Ruffle, in addition to 
 the other sweets, to make a pupton of quince. 
 Yon know that '42 claret of Prince Eupert's that 
 Sir Charles likes, and be sure the Steinberg is 
 sufficiently iced, which it was not the last time." 
 Dining at such matutinal hours as they did in 
 those days, exclusive of what modern refinement 
 would think their unquestionably coarse and 
 dirty habits, people^ of course, did not dress for 
 dinner ; but Dorothy, on this occasion, in order 
 to wear and do honour to her grandfather's pre- 
 sent, went to exchange her dress for one more in 
 keeping with her green stockings and their silver 
 clocks. 
 
 At the expiration of an hour Master Hartsfoot 
 returned radiant with the good news of which he 
 was the bearer. Hollar had made a mistake as to 
 there having been pieces of eight in the lost bag, for 
 npon sending for Roger Marner and closely ques- 
 tioning him — before showing him the bag Joe
 
 300 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 Barton had found — as to the amount and species 
 of coin the one he (Marner) had lost contained, 
 he at once distinctly stated that it held fifty 
 pounds, that there were no pieces of eight, only 
 twenty-five gold Jacobuses and fifty angels ; and 
 no sooner did he see the bag Master Hartsfoot 
 had brought than he exclaimed — 
 
 " Why that's the very bag as Master Ellis 
 give me, and inside there are the two letters of 
 his name — G. E., for George ElHs — in red," 
 which, when the bag was then for the first time 
 opened, was found to be the case, and the fifty 
 pounds, half in Jacobuses, half in angels, as he 
 had stated. And although the sum was by no 
 means sufficient to have realised Joe Bartends 
 golden dreams of his mother ceasing to 
 work, his sister " walking in silk attire," and 
 himself fluttering as '' a captain in lace," yet, 
 small as it was, the lawfal owner, poor Hollar, 
 was as delighted at its recovery as if he had really 
 found a gold mine.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 301 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 'N this world of cross purposes and 
 wrong people in wrong places, it 
 is not always from those in authority 
 over us that we suffer ; but much 
 oftener from the tyranny of those who should be 
 in subjection under us — but who, like many other 
 things that should be, are not. Of this sort of in- 
 verse tyranny, bachelors, those supposed " birds 
 of freedom," par excellence, and denizens of 
 Liberty Hall, are more especially the victims, 
 and Master Hartsfoot was no exception to the 
 rule. The frequent assemblage of learned and 
 scientific men at his house, savans in fact, or 
 " saveons," as Noah Pump called them, were as 
 springs and oasis in his desert and solitary life. 
 But like all deserts, his was by no means exempt 
 from Siroccos and Simooms, now caused by the 
 subterranean fires in the nether regions, over 
 which Mrs. Merrypin ruled ; and then, again, 
 from certain hydraulic difficulties with Mr. Pump 
 touching the proper icing of the fluid, contributed
 
 302 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 by his namesake to these " feasts of reason," as 
 also that of the different vintages about which he 
 was not quite so learned as his master. So the 
 combined humours of the lar below and the 
 penate above, though they could not check, yet 
 were a sad drawback to Master Hartsfoot's hos- 
 pitality. However, it so happened that on this 
 particular Thursday in October that he had con- 
 vened his friends, the domestic barometer was 
 not only " set fair," but there was a halcyon 
 suaveness diffused through the atmosphere, that 
 amounted to a sort of moral ozone, for it so fell 
 out that in the way of pieces cle resistance, 
 Mrs. Merrypin had achieved a swan pie, a venison 
 and also a salmon pasty, and a baron of beef, 
 which she thought quite worthy of her talents, 
 while chaud-froids of partridges and gallantines 
 of pheasants were ''trifles light as air" to her; 
 and as for her stewed lampreys, any king that 
 might have had the good fortune to taste them 
 would not have deserved to live had he not been 
 content to die after having so feasted. Then, 
 among her sweet things, were whole Alps of 
 whipped cream, with rugged foundations of 
 brandied greengages and guava jelly ; but with 
 regard to her fortifications of puff, pastry, and 
 spun sugar, I am not engineer enough to venture 
 to speak ; but she, who was artiste, connoisseur, 
 and^ amateur, was satisfied, quite satisfied, the
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 303 
 
 pleasing result of which was, that her master 
 might have with truth repeated the last line of 
 that charming epitaph which some model hus- 
 band wrote upon his wife, and have exclaimed in 
 the gratitude of his heart — 
 
 " Now she's at rest, and so am I !" 
 
 While above stairs, Mr. Pump having in the 
 person of Joe Barton, become possessed of his 
 long coveted souffre douleurs, who, so far as 
 work went, out of sight, and — 
 
 •'Unsuspected, animated the whole," 
 
 was in an equally amiable and condescending 
 mood ; so that as slaves never are fit for sudden 
 emancipation, but are apt to let liberty degenerate 
 into licence, the proper spirit of subordination in 
 his master really ran great risks on this occasion, 
 for he had actually the audacity, without any 
 beating about the bush, or circumlocution, to 
 find fault with some of Mr. Pump's arrange- 
 ments on the supper table, and desired, in quite 
 a master of the house tone, that they might be 
 altered, and ordered that screens might be placed 
 on the backs of those chairs near the fire. Pope 
 Pump stared, but obeyed; while his master 
 looked with greater complacency, or rather 
 greater comfort, than he had ever yet done on 
 his magnificent collection of Henri <^^2^j; ware and 
 his buffet of twelfth century plate, and walked
 
 304 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 through the rooms with a sort of Alexander Sel- 
 kirk air, as if he had really been — 
 
 " Monarch of all he surveyed,'' 
 
 till his guests began to arrive. First came Lord 
 Worcester and Mr Oldenburgh ;* next Mr. 
 ShereSjt 23oetaster and dilettanti^ and immediately 
 in their wake, Mr. Locke, Mr. Evelyn, Lord 
 Arlington, a Mr. Plume, and Mr. Pendarvis, a 
 Cornish gentleman, which completed the party. 
 
 Their greetings over — " Now, my Lord,^' said 
 Hartsfoot, to Lord Worcester, leading the way 
 to his sanctum, a room within the " Cedar Par- 
 lour," where they had assembled, " we shall have 
 time, before supper, to witness the experiment 
 you promised to show us, of igniting water by 
 means of certain chemicals ; but first I will take 
 the precaution of locking the door, for if once 
 
 * Henry Oldeuourgh, at that time Secretary of the Eoyal 
 Society. 
 
 t This was the person who so excited Mr. Pepys' jealousy, by 
 being always, "by a fortuitous concurrence of circumstances/' 
 beside Mrs. Pepys at public places. On going to see the play of 
 *' The Generous Portingales," Mr. Pepys enters in his diary— 
 *'Here, by accident, we met Mr. Sheres, and yet I could not but 
 be troubled, because my wife do so delight to talk of, and to see 
 him," Then the next day comes this entry— "April 24th, 1669. 
 Mr. Sheres dining with us, and my wife, which troubled me, 
 Eoighty careful to have a handsome dinner for him ; but yet I see 
 no reason to be troubled at it, he being a very civil and worthy 
 man I think, but only it do seem to imply some little neglect of 
 me." More especially as Mrs. Pepys not only read Mr. Sheres' 
 own effusions, but everything else that he recommended, till Mr. 
 Pepys seems to have had a sort of prophetic inverse knowledge 
 of homoeopathy, and thought that as his father, the tailor, had 
 been made by the Shears, he, Samuel Pepys, was to be undone 
 by the Sheres. Mr. Sheres was also an engineer, and employed 
 by Lord Dartmouth to blow up the Fort of Tangier.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 305 
 
 my man Pump should discover your proceedings, 
 nothing would convince him that we had not 
 dealings with the devil, and he would take to his 
 heels, and we might get our supper as we 
 could." 
 
 " To say nothing," laughed Mr. Oldenburgh, 
 " of the ignition of water being really a danger- 
 ous discovery for every pump in the kingdom." 
 
 There was a small fountain in this room, which 
 was in fact, a kind of laboratory, and Hartsfoot 
 now turned the tap, and filled the large marble 
 shell under it full of clear, cold water. 
 
 '' The matter is very simple," said Lord Wor- 
 cester, putting his hand into his pocket and 
 taking from it a small phial. " I shall not even 
 turn up my sleeves like a conjurer, as there is no 
 hocus pocus about it." 
 
 " Very simple to you, my lord," said Locke, 
 as they all flocked eagerly round the fountain, 
 " who have gone through fii-e and water to dis- 
 cover all the secrets of science, but a very good 
 imitation of a miracle to us ignoramuses." 
 
 '' And one that, even in these days, might cost 
 you your head," put in Mr. Evelyn, " were you 
 to play any tricks with the conduits of the New 
 River Company." 
 
 "Yes, only Fm not so mad as to think of 
 benefiting the public by my discoveries, or I 
 should have offered my really wonderful phe-
 
 306 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 nomema about the conduct and warfare of ships 
 to the Government to patent." 
 
 " As a present, you mean, my dear fellow," 
 said Lord Arlington, "for we are in such a 
 blessed state of bankruptcy that we have scarcely 
 money for pattens — which would be of more use 
 to our old women in the legislature — let alone 
 for patents."^ 
 
 " I should like," said Mr. Oldenburgh, " to 
 hear your lordship's discoveries about ships." 
 
 * This wotild have been a most extraordinary speech for the 
 Chief Secretary of State to have made in the present day, but 
 everything was extraordinary and anomalous in those days, and 
 one of the most so that the members of the legislature were al- 
 ways among the first to cry withered roses, and point out the 
 nakedness of the land. This arose perhaps, from their despair- 
 engendering position, that of responsibility without power ; and 
 even had full powers been vested in them, legislation with a bank- 
 rupt exchequer is an impossibility, and at that time seems to have 
 been as confused and uncertain as their orthography, and as bad 
 as their grammar, in short, "a mighty maze without a plan." 
 The only wonder is, that instead of the Dutch invasion, we were 
 not invaded by every European power, with the amphibious 
 muddle that then existed of generals and admirals being "rolled 
 into one," and our sailors mutinying from want of pay and in- 
 sufficiency of food, and others, rather than be pressed into such 
 an inglorious and unprofitable service, committing suicide. It is 
 a still greater wonder that the outbreak of national discontent 
 should have waited till James the Second's time to manifest it- 
 self, only Charles the Second, with all his vices and disregard of 
 his sovereign duties, was personally popular. But what a state of 
 vulgar extremes meeting was the society of that day. It was not 
 only the poor queen, who had to associate with her husband's 
 mistresses, but such was also the universal custom in an age when 
 " great people" (?) dined occasionally with their own servants, and 
 ladies took their maids with them to the play, and took the patches 
 ofi" their face to put on their own ! ! as Lady Castlemaine is repre- 
 sented by Pepys to have done at the King s house one night ; 
 while Pepys, the tailor's son, had his entrees at White Hall, and 
 ran in and out of the Kings presence and the Duke of York's 
 dressing room like a pet spaniel, independent of Court Chamber- 
 lains, and dined one day with the Cabinet Ministers at the Palace, 
 and the next was with his wife and servants at high jinks, at some 
 baker's or butcher's wedding.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 307 
 
 ^^ In a moment, when I have shown you this 
 experiment." 
 
 And he poured the contents of the phial into 
 the marble basin of water, and immediately it 
 was overspread by a brilliant flame, bright blue 
 at the base, exactly like the flame produced by 
 brandy or any other spirit when set fire to. 
 
 " How beautiful I" they all exclaimed, ^^ but 
 how long will the flame continue ?" asked Mr. 
 Oldenburgh. 
 
 " Till it has literally burnt up the water, which, 
 being in so small a quantity, it might succeed in 
 doing by this time to-morrow ; but a large body 
 of water would continue burning for years and 
 years, as the water feeds the fire as oil does that 
 of an ordinary lamp, so that a lake or river would 
 by ordinary means, once so ignited, be unextin- 
 guishable." 
 
 " And how can you extinguish this fire, now ?" 
 
 " Not by water, for that would add fuel to the 
 flame ; but I will extinguish it before we leave 
 the room, by other chemical ingredients. It is 
 on the same principle as the ever burning lamp 
 I gave you, Hartsfoot, which unlike servants and 
 Cabinet Ministers, never goes out." 
 
 " Ha I ha ! ha ! and about the ships, my lord? 
 I am so anxious to hear about them," again in- 
 terposed Mr. Oldenburgh. 
 
 " Well, it is rather long to describe, and I fear 
 I shall tire you."
 
 308 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 But there was a unanimous negative to this, 
 whereupon Lord Worcester said — 
 
 ^'' I have constructed a portable engine to fit 
 in the pocket, which may be carried and fastened 
 to the inside of the largest ship, tunguum aliud 
 agenSj and at any appointed minute, though a 
 week after, of either day or night, it shall irre- 
 vocably sink that ship. I have also constructed 
 a like engine which, at a mile's distance, a diver 
 may fasten to any ship, so that it will punctu- 
 ally work the same effect, both as to time and 
 execution ; but that would be nothing if I had 
 not also discovered a method of protecting a ship 
 against any such attempts or results, such as I 
 have just described to you ; in fact, a way of 
 making it impossible that a ship should be sunk, 
 though fired at a hundred times between wind 
 and water by cannon, and though the vessel 
 should lose a whole plank, yet by this plan it 
 would, in half an hour's time, be made as ship- 
 shape and fit to sail as before. I have also an- 
 other invention how to make false decks, which 
 in a moment should kill and take prisoners, that 
 is, as many as should board the ship, without 
 blowing the decks up, or destroying them from 
 being reduceable ; but on the contrary, so that 
 they should in a quarter of an hour's time re- 
 cover their former shape, and be rendered fit for 
 any employment, without discovering the secret 
 of their construction. I have a farther discovery.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 309 
 
 of how to weigh an anchor, or to do any other 
 forcible exploit in the narrowest or lowest cabin 
 of any ship, where few hands shall do the work 
 of many, and many hands applicable to the same 
 force, some standing, other's sitting, and by 
 virtue of their several helps, a great force aug- 
 mented in little space, and as effectual as if there 
 was sufficient space to go about with an axle tree 
 and work far from the centre. 
 
 " I have also a way to make a boat work itself 
 against wind and tide, without the help of man 
 or beast ; yet so that the wind and tide, though 
 directly contrary, shall force the boat against it- 
 self, and in no point of the compass, but it shall 
 be as effectual as if the wind was in the poop, or 
 the tide actually with the course it is to steer ; 
 according to which the oars shall row, and the 
 necessary motions work and move towards the 
 desired port, or point of the compass.* I have 
 also many other nautical inventions, too long to 
 describe now ; and I have lately constructed a 
 small engine, whereby may be taken out of the 
 water a ship of five hundred tons, so that it may 
 be caulked, trimmed, and repaired, without any 
 need of the usual way of stocks, and as easily let 
 down into the water again." 
 
 '' Wonderfal !'^ said Mr. Oldenburgh. 
 
 * This would clearly be invaluable for a lifeboat if the secret of 
 its mechanism could be discovered.
 
 310 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear lord," cried Mr. Evelyn, " what 
 an amount of disgrace ! to say nothing of loss, 
 would your marvellous inventions have saved us 
 in the Dutch invasion, had our government 
 practically possessed itself of them ; as that of 
 France or Holland would have been sure to have 
 done, had either been able to boast of such a 
 genius as your lordship." 
 
 '^ Aye, truly," said Locke; " and our first gain 
 would have been that we should not have lost 
 Sheerness by sheer imbecility." 
 
 " Only I am afraid we are taxing your lord- 
 ship too much, I wish you would tell our friends 
 of that wonderful hydraulic invention you were 
 explaining to me the other day," said Hartsfoot. 
 
 " Ah ! that, without vanity, I think I may call 
 the most stupendous work in the world ; but, by- 
 and-bye, after supper. I have inflicted enough 
 of my doings on you for the present, gentle- 
 men." 
 
 " Well, after supper then be it," said the host. 
 " Any news stirring, Mr. Evelyn ?" 
 
 " Well, I heard one piece of news, which I 
 don't believe — to wit, that Captain Broderick is 
 to marry Lady Jemima Montagu." 
 
 " Nor I neither," said Mr. Sheres, " for I 
 heard the story with a variation ; that is, that 
 she had refused him (not very likely, I should 
 think, if he ever offered), and that in consequence
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 311 
 
 of this rejection he goes out to Tangier in a 
 month, to join my Lord Dartmouth — in which 
 case he would be my compagnon du voyage, which 
 I should be very glad of — but think it is too good 
 to be true, as I'm sure if there had been any 
 match on the tapis between him and Lady 
 Jemima, I should have heard of it from the 
 Pepys' ; and on the contrary, Mr. Pepys told me 
 in confidence the other day, that everything was 
 arranged, with Lord Sandwich's perfect con- 
 sent, for her marriage with Sir George Carteret's 
 son." 
 
 " Pish ! I lay anything that this report, and 
 young Broderick's being consigned — for that's 
 the proper word— to Tangier, is some fresh 
 scheme of that cutter,^ Sir Allen's,^' said Lord 
 Arlington. 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised," said Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 Here the handle of the room door was turned 
 in no very gentle manner. 
 
 " The fire ! the fire !" said Master Hartsfoot, 
 pointing to the flaming fountain in almost as 
 much alarm as if the house had been really on 
 fire. 
 
 Lord Worcester took the hint, and pouring the 
 contents of another phial on it, in one moment 
 extinguished it, leaving the water looking as cold 
 
 * Cutter, an old English word, meaning a swaggering, hector- 
 ing fellow.
 
 312 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 and impassable as if it had never '^ felt a flame." 
 Fortunately the extinction of the fire left no tell 
 tale odour, so the master of the house flew to 
 the door and opened it with all possible alacrity, 
 when Mr. Pump announced that " supper was 
 on the table," but not without casting a scru- 
 tinising glance round the room, accompanied by 
 an inquisitorial sniffing, as if he fully expected 
 to detect brimstone and other infernal agencies, 
 for at the time he remarked to himself, and after, 
 in council, to Mrs. Merrypin, " There was no 
 knowing what them ere saveons wasn't up to ; 
 and all he was afeared on was, that poor Master 
 Hartsfoot warnt deep enough for 'em, and might 
 be dragged down goodness, or rather badness, only 
 knew where ; afore he seed where he was a going 
 to/' 
 
 " By-the-bye," said Lord Arlington, as he un- 
 folded his napkin, " I suppose you have heard 
 that the Duke of York's dressing-room was broken 
 into last night, the locks of two of the cabinets 
 picked, and several papers of some importance 
 stolen, but neither money nor jewels (of which 
 there was much) touched." 
 
 No, of course they had not heard it ; people 
 seldom had new laid news, only twenty-four hours 
 old at that time, which may account for the ex- 
 traordinary stories that were hatched from stale 
 reports.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 313 
 
 "What a pity, Lord Worcester," said Harts- 
 foot, " that there was not one of your marvellous 
 locks that would have detained the hand of the 
 thief just as a fox is springed in a trap." 
 
 '^ Yes," said Lord Arlington, " that would have 
 been satisfactory in every way, and have pre- 
 vented all the surmises now afloat as to Popish 
 and other plots, and our being on the brink of 
 another rebellion." 
 
 " And is it to be wondered at ?" said Mr. Pen- 
 darves, " with the pay of our soldiers and sailors 
 all in arrears since the Restoration, the country 
 actually swamped with profligacy, dishonesty, 
 and disaflection everywhere ; the very King with- 
 out a sixpence in his pocket, while he has always 
 thirty thousand pounds ready to pay Lady Castle- 
 maine's ever recurring de bts, and seven hundred 
 guinea rings to give to Moll Davis, and others 
 of her tribe." 
 
 '' I have long thought," said Mr. Evelyn, 
 " that we must end in a E-epublic." 
 
 '' I don't think so," said Locke, '' human 
 nature, more especially in the aggregate, seldom 
 re I urns to pick up the burden it has just laid 
 down ;^ moreover men, perhaps from a fellow feel- 
 
 * Locke was right, and in our own times, as recent events in 
 France have so bitterly proved, M. Philarfete Chasles is more right, 
 who hag so truly said, in his own terse, quint-essential style — 
 * ' Stimulants do not give strength ; comets do not give out heat ; 
 and revolutions do not give liberty," 
 
 VOL. 1. P
 
 314 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ing, much more easily condone vice and malad- 
 ministration, than they do tyranny, even when it 
 insures perfect order. Individuals have long 
 memories for oppressions or aggressions, and 
 thus it comes, that family feuds are often per- 
 petuated through several generations. But there 
 is an elasticity in the concrete life of nations, 
 which renders their memory remarkably evanes- 
 cent, so that the most devastating revolutions 
 and sanguinary civil wars, are in a marvellously 
 short time consigned to oblivion, covered, as it 
 were, like all other fresh made graves, by the 
 verdure of natural changes, and ever-growing 
 successions ; add to which, the world is ruled by 
 words, much more than by deeds or by facts, or 
 even by experience, and as the King's words are 
 never at fault, despite all he does, he is popular." 
 
 '' I fear," said Mr. Plume, whose brother was 
 the Incumbent of Cripplegate, '' that after what 
 he said the other day upon refusing to let the 
 temporal power of the bishops be curtailed, his 
 majesty is stooping to take a leaf out of the Pro- 
 tector's grimoire of pious hypocrisy." 
 
 " What was that?" asked Hartsfoot, '^ I have 
 not heard what he said, yet generally his sayings, 
 which are all motSj travel pretty quickly." 
 
 " Why his answer was sufficiently terse, and 
 coming from a person of irreproachable morals, 
 might have been deemed both pious and orthodox.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 315 
 
 He said, ' Xo, take one stone from the Churcli 
 and you take two from the throne.' " 
 
 "I don't see any hypocritical pretension to 
 piety in it," said Locke, " and coming from the 
 King, whatever Charles Stuart's lese morale may 
 be, it was extremely orthodox ; for as Church and 
 State are incongruously bound up together, each 
 clogging and impeding the other, something like 
 the Mazentian punishment of the living body 
 bound to the dead. Church and State, of necessity 
 become the creed of princes ; consequently, an 
 English sovereign, however impious, irreligious, 
 or even sacrilegious, must of necessity, and in all 
 truth and sincerity, be great sticklers for the 
 Church, as by law established, and having been 
 made, as it were, the lynch pin of the wheel of 
 State machine, all English monarchs do of course 
 conscientiously believe, that take one stone from 
 the power of the Church, and you take two from 
 the power of the throne." 
 
 '• Ah ! I perceive ; I did not see it in that light 
 before ; but of com'se it is as you say, Mr. Locke, 
 and the King really meant bond fide what he 
 said." 
 
 " Ha ! ha !" laughed Mr. Evelyn, " I'm glad 
 you're not as unteachable, Plume, as the parish- 
 ioners of a cure in Dauphine that I encountered 
 last autumn." 
 
 '^ I am sure thereby must 'hang a tale,' not t@ 
 
 p 2
 
 316 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 say a tail, perhaps the devil's," laughed Lord 
 Arlington, " so pray let us have it, Evelyn." 
 
 " Why, T, and my wife, and daughter made a 
 little tour in Dauphin e last autumn, a part of 
 France we had not been in before ; among others, 
 we at last came to a place called Dieulefit. 
 Under the sign board at the entrance of the vil- 
 lage announcing this name of Dieulefit, some 
 wag had written — Dieu lejit, et le planta Id ! — 
 perhaps the Cure himself, who was evidently a 
 humourist, as we found out after, upon strolling 
 into the village church to hear the sermon. Mon- 
 sieur le Cure had been lecturing his parishioners 
 upon their backwardness and ignorance in all 
 things, but more especially did he animadvert 
 upon the little spiritual progress which they had 
 made during the five years he had laboured so 
 hard for the good of their souls. ^ What,' said 
 he, * shall I say — what can I say to the Almighty 
 at the great final Audit day, in parading before 
 Him such a congregation ?' And he paused for 
 a reply, as is the wont of French preachers, and 
 then added, with a groan — ^ Helas ! je lui dirai, 
 Seignieur, betes tu me les a donms, et b^tes je te 
 les rends P " 
 
 As soon as the roar of laughter this story had 
 caused had subsided. Lord Arlington, in helping 
 himself to a peach (for the dessert was now on 
 the table, and Mr. Pump had withdrawn to
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 317 
 
 regions where he was more appreciated), said — 
 '^ I should not wonder at the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham's embarrassments if he gave such banquets 
 of the gods as you do, Hartsfoot." 
 
 " Whom the gods deign to visit, must needs 
 be Amphitryon," smiled Hartsfoot; " but had I 
 the Duke of Buckingham's £20,000 a-year, I 
 don't think I could contrive to get into debt ; he 
 really must be very clever." 
 
 " Of course he is, for he is very wicked ; and 
 in modern parlance they are synonymous. But 
 he has not, though he had, £20,000 a-year ; here 
 is his rental,'-* continued Lord Arlington, 
 " £19,000 a-year, but owes £10,000 ; pays away 
 £7,000 in interest, about £2,000 in fee-farm 
 rents to the King, about £6,000 in wages and 
 pensions, and the rest to live on — I mean to run 
 in debt upon." 
 
 " His Grace's financial system," said Harts- 
 foot, " appears, Lord Worcester, to be stolen 
 from your invention of how to make a weight 
 that cannot take up a hundred pounds, and yet 
 shall take up two hundred^ and at the self-same 
 distance, and so proportionably up to millions of 
 pounds !" 
 
 ''Very like it," laughed Lord Worcester; " a 
 pity I never thought of utilizing the invention 
 in that way. May I trouble you for the sack ?" 
 
 " No — no," laughed Hartsfoot; "" I'll give you
 
 318 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 anything but the sack ! particularly as your lord- 
 ship promised us an account of what you justly 
 consider your greatest scientific achievement." 
 
 " But of what use is it ? or any of my other 
 inventions, when there is no getting them 
 patented, in order to utilise them. One very 
 simple invention of mine, one would have thought 
 might have found favour with the fine ladies, if 
 only to save their pretty faces and their fine 
 clothes, when taking the dust in Hyde Park, 
 which literally prevents their getting any air, and 
 sends them home as if sacks of dust had been 
 showered upon them. It is nothing more than a 
 large box upon cart-wheels, and shafts for a horse 
 to draw the cart, the said box being about the 
 size of a spinet, and a foot and a half deep ; in 
 the centre is a plug, which can be taken out to 
 fill the box with water, while the back, which 
 faces the road, is perforated with small holes, 
 like a watering pot ; but that the water may not 
 come through till the cart is in motion, there is 
 a board to slide over these holes, which, as soon 
 as the cart is filled, is withdrawn, and then, as 
 the cart is driven on, the road is thoroughly 
 watered as it goes, and all the dust laid ; the box 
 being, of course, re-filled whenever the supply of 
 water is exhausted."* 
 
 * Evidently our modern watering-carts, now nsed in every vil- 
 age.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 319 
 
 *' Capital !" said everyone ; '^ it would, indeed, 
 be a great boon, and as you say, so simple, that 
 one wonders necessity has not mace it occur to 
 minds less inventive than yours ; but now, my 
 lord," continued Hartsfoot, " I want you to have 
 the goodness to describe your chefd^oeuvre to us." 
 
 " Oh ! but I really fear I shall tire you with 
 all my long descriptions, particularly as I have 
 not the engines here to show you the principles 
 when in action." 
 
 '' No — no ; if we don't tire you, pray let us 
 hear all you can tell us." 
 
 " Well, you must know, after many years' ex- 
 perience and great labour, I have perfectly suc- 
 ceeded in constructing an engine that the strength 
 of a mere child could bring up a hundred feet 
 high an incredible quantity of water, even of two 
 feet diameter, and that so naturally and easily, 
 that the working of this engine would not be 
 heard, even in an adjoining room, and with such 
 great facility and geometrical symmetry, that 
 though it work day and night, from one end of 
 the year to the other, it would not require forty 
 shillings' worth of reparation to the whole engine, 
 nor hinder it one day from working. It would 
 serve with little charge to drain all sorts of 
 mines, and furnish cities with an abundance of 
 water, though built on ever such great heights, 
 as well as to purify them by running through
 
 320 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 every street, alley, and suburb, and so perform- 
 ing the work of many scavengers, as well as 
 supplying all the inhabitants with plenty of water 
 for their own particular use ; but it would like- 
 wise supply rivers with a sufficient body of water, 
 to maintain and convey them from town to town, 
 and enable them to irrigate lands as they went, 
 with many more advantages and profitable re- 
 sults. So that deservedly, I deem this the crown- 
 ing invention of my labours, and look to it to 
 indemnify me for my expenses, and direct my 
 thoughts in the channel of further discoveries.^' 
 
 They all listened with the greatest attention, 
 and declared that it was indeed truly wonderful ; 
 but as an engineer, Mr. Shores was the most 
 appreciative of his audience, and as a poet, said — 
 
 " In fact, my lord, this is your iron epic?" 
 
 " It must needs be, since I cannot, like you, 
 Mr. Sheres, pretend to golden numbers." 
 
 '^At all events, I think your lordship will 
 make a great many others pretend to them, since 
 you have invented an instrument for writing in 
 the dark." 
 
 " No, no," laughed Locke ; " that must be 
 intended for writing history." 
 
 '' Wrong for once/' replied Lord Worcester ; 
 " for my instrument is so trae^ that it writes per- 
 fectly straight, and never deviates a hair's 
 breadth."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 321 
 
 " Oh I then it will be of no use to those great 
 fictionists, the historians." 
 
 ''Poor wretches! What would they do if 
 TRUTH was made a sine qua non before they put 
 pen to paper," said Evelyn. ''■ T have lived long 
 enough to be convinced that no one knows the 
 real truth — that is, the whole truth of anything, 
 but God. Is not the town talk we bring from 
 Heaven, or the club, the coffee houses, or West- 
 minster Hall, one day, often contradicted the 
 next? or else considerably either added to, or 
 curtailed? And let two persons, of even the 
 most scrupulous and unimpeachable veracity, 
 write a description of a Lord Mayor's show, or 
 any other pageant, and both accounts shall differ 
 materially, and yet both be strictly true, so far 
 as the writers are concerned, for both relate the 
 truth so far as they saw, but they saw from dif- 
 ferent points of view ; that is, they did not both 
 see the same things, nor at the same time, yet 
 the things that both narrate were to be seen, and 
 did occur. This holds good, even with regard to 
 the four Gospels. Then again, circumstances 
 alter cases ; suppose, for instance, any foreigner, 
 collecting materials and intending to write a book 
 upon England, had spoken to poor Lord Essex 
 five years before his execution, of his brilliant 
 but base proUg4, my Lord Bacon, Essex, in his 
 enthusiasm — for all generous natures are enthu- 
 
 p 5
 
 322 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 siastic — would have taken his measure merely 
 intellectually, and have described him as a gigan- 
 tic perfection. So far, so true. But let another 
 have applied to poor Lord Essex a day or two 
 before his execution, when he knew that the 
 viper he had warmed had so basely betrayed, and 
 so assiduously wrought his ruin ; then he would 
 have guaged the wretch morally, and where was 
 the black — sufficiently black wherewith to pour- 
 tray him ? Yet both these individuals would tell 
 the exact truth, in stating that they had these 
 traits of Lord Bacon from Lord Essex ; and both 
 characters, though differing so widely, would be 
 both equally true. How then can we reasonably 
 expect truth from history? when all history is 
 not only written at second, third, and fourth 
 hand, but is of necessity coloured by the indivi- 
 dual bias, moral, and political, of the writer. 
 And there would be no histories written at all, if 
 historians, as a rule, were too much staggered at 
 atrocities, and did as De Thon did, when writing 
 his history, in his house in the Eue de Betizy, 
 where, when he came to the St. Bartholomew, 
 he threw down his pen, and filled up the hiatus 
 with this exclamation — 
 
 * Excidat ilia dies arve, 
 Nee postera credant, 
 Sarcula, nos certe faciamus, 
 Et obruta mult^ 
 Notce tegi patiamur crimina gentis T "
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 323 
 
 " Too true/'' said Locke : " but it amounts to 
 this, tliat we must not examine into anything 
 too closely, nor sum up the results of things too 
 generally, or nothing would ever be undertaken, 
 or rather finished ; and so there would be no such 
 thing as progression, and the world would come 
 to a dead lock, were we to preface every human 
 effort with a cui bono ? For instance, we should 
 all start in life by saying, ' What is the use of 
 my doing, or attempting to do anything ? for I 
 must die, and do not even know how soon that 
 inevitable event may cut short my labours ; and 
 at best, the world is but a thankless, unappre- 
 ciative, oblivious, and ungrateful master to work 
 for. ' YeTy true ; but the world is not, or rather 
 should not be our master, for we are, one and 
 all (great and small, splendidly endowed with 
 TEX talents, or straitened by the pauper pittance 
 of one), equally God's servants. So that, in fact, ■ 
 our highest aspirations and most ambitious 
 efforts should, on this side Eternity, be ever 
 bounded by that nucleus of all wisdom, enjoined 
 by the Catechism, to ^ do our duty in that state 
 of life unto which it has pleased God to call us.' 
 Besides, example does not always act either as 
 precept or precedent — when of an evil kind it 
 quite as often acts as a warning ; and thus, in 
 the wondrous chemistry of nature, both in the 
 moral and physical world, are substances trans-
 
 324 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 muted, and pernicious things neutralized. So 
 that even the very errors and mis-statements of 
 history have their uses, for they put the more 
 advanced intelligences of succeeding ages, upon 
 detecting and analysing its fallacies, and thus 
 mens digitat molem.'''' 
 
 '' Then, verily, Mr. Locke," said Lord Arling- 
 ton, " what a debt of gratitude future generations 
 will owe our times ; for what a splendid collection 
 of errors, fallacies, vices, and blunders, we shall 
 leave them to whet their intellect upon." 
 
 *' All ages do their little possible for posterity 
 in that way, and when posterity, with its new 
 brooms, has swept the byegone rubbish into a 
 corner, and sets up on its own account, it thinks 
 it has done great things." 
 
 *^ Pray, my lord,'^ said Evelyn, " do you think 
 that the King will, as so many persons believe, 
 make a great push for a standing army, and so 
 try to rule by military force ?" 
 
 ** Nay," said Hartsfoot, ^' that is scarcely a fair 
 question to put to the Chief Secretary of State." 
 '^ It is perfectly fair, inasmuch as that I cannot 
 possibly answer it in one way or the other," said 
 Lord Arlington, ^' for in the present state of 
 affairs it would be utterly impossible to predict 
 what may or may not happen from one month to 
 another, unless one had the gift of second sight, 
 which I don't pretend to."
 
 1670. Clumher Chase. 325 
 
 " By-the-bye," said Mr. Oldenburgli, " apropos 
 of second sight, what is that story, my lord, about 
 some Scotch gentleman, possessed of second 
 sight, having in a most extraordinary manner 
 predicted Lady Cornbury's death ?" 
 
 " It's only last year I was asking Lord Corn- 
 bury about it, and I'll tell you what he told me, 
 as nearly as I can recollect them in his own words. 
 He said — * Five or six years ago, one day — I 
 know by some remarkable circumstance that it 
 was towards the middle of February, in 1661 or 
 1662 — the Earl of Newborough came to dine 
 with my father at Worcester House, and another 
 Scotch gentleman with him, whose name I can- 
 not call to mind. After dinner, as we were stand- 
 ing and talking together in the room, says my 
 Lord ]N"ewborough to the other Scotch gentleman, 
 who was looking very steadfastly upon my wife, 
 " \Yhat is the matter, that thou hast had thine 
 eyes fixed upon my Lady Cornbury^ ever since 
 she came into the room ? Is she not a fine wo- 
 man ? Why dost thou not speak?' " She's a 
 handsome lady indeed," said the gentleman, 
 " but I see her in blood." Whereupon, my Lord 
 Newborough laughed at him, and all the com- 
 pany going out of the room, we parted, and I 
 believe none of us thought more of the matter ; I 
 am sure I did not. My wife was at that time 
 
 * Theodoeia, tldrd daughter of Arthur Lord Clyde, of Hadham.
 
 326 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 perfectly well in health, and looked as well as ever 
 she did in her life. In the beginning of the next 
 month she fell ill of the small-pox. She was 
 always very apprehensive of that disease, and 
 used to say if she ever had it she should die of 
 it. Upon the ninth day after the small-pox ap- 
 peared, in the morning, she bled at the nose, 
 which quickly stopped, but in the afternoon the 
 blood burst out again with great violence at her 
 mouth and nose, and about eleven o'clock that 
 night she died, almost weltering in her blood.""^ 
 
 " Strange, most strange," said every one. 
 
 " Truly there are more things in Heaven and 
 earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," 
 said Hartsfoot. 
 
 '' I only wish," said Evelyn, ^' we could find 
 out this prescient Scotch gentleman to prognosti- 
 cate to us what our political future is to be." 
 
 " OmnibuB hostes 
 Redite nos populis, civile avertite bellum," 
 
 said Lord Arlington. 
 
 " Amen," responded Hartsfoot. 
 
 Here Pump announced my Lord Arlington's 
 coach. 
 
 '^ Can I have the pleasure, gentlemen," said 
 
 * Several years after this, in 1701, Lord Cornbury, then Lord 
 Clarendon (Henry Hyde, second Lord Clarendon), related thia 
 story verbatim as above in a letter to Mr. Pepys, and adds that 
 the great grief he was at that time in, for the loss of his wife pre- 
 vented his trying to find out the Scotch gentleman who had made 
 BO terribly true a prediction.
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 327 
 
 he, bowing courteously round the table to the 
 assembled guests, ^' of taking any of you home ?" 
 
 '' I fear," said Mr. Oldenburgh, " it would be 
 trespassing quite too much on your lordship's 
 kindness, for the way to Durham Yard is so bad 
 and so dirty." 
 
 '' Can any ways be too bad or too dirty for a 
 Secretary of State ?" laughed Lord Arlington, 
 " as we are the real secretaries oi\hQ Royal Society. 
 And you, my dear Lord Worcester, will you not 
 let me set you down at your own door ?" 
 
 " Many thanks, but I have had too many sets 
 down in my time, and do not want any more, 
 and it is fortunate we cannot be deprived of our 
 feet, however we may be of our footing," and the 
 gallant old Royalist sighed as he thought of the 
 Psalmist's advice, '^ Put not thy trust in Princes." 
 
 The sigh was echoed by all present, who thanked 
 him and the host for the agreeable evening they 
 had passed. 
 
 " You have nothing to thank me for," said 
 Hartsfoot. " Mine are all pic-nics ; you bring 
 your own entertainment with you, and I it is who 
 have 80 much to be obliged for." And always 
 anxious to do any kindness that he could, he said 
 to Lord Arlington, sotto voce — 
 
 " If it is not crowding your lordship too much, 
 as Mr. Sheres goes out in an official capacity to 
 Tangier next month, it might be a help to him 
 to have received this little civility from you."
 
 328 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 ''Oh I thank you for telling me ; he really 
 seems a very sensible, modest young fellow. I'll 
 give him some private despatches to take to Lord 
 Dartmouth, which may help him more." 
 
 And then, turning to the subject of his little 
 parley, he said — 
 
 " As all but Mr. Oldenburgh have rejected my 
 offer, I hope, Mr. Sheres, you will take compas- 
 sion on me ; for you know two of a trade can 
 never agree, and recollect Mr. Oldenburgh and 
 I are both secretaries." 
 
 Of course Mr. Sheres was too happy to ac- 
 cept the invitation so kindly given, and as soon 
 as he. Lord Arlington, and Mr. Oldenburgh had 
 departed, Mr. Locke and Mr. Evelyn, having 
 offered a seat to Mr. Pendarvis, followed, so that 
 only Mr. Plume was left to accompany Lord 
 Worcester, who produced from his pocket a small 
 lantern with an ever-burning lamp, exactly 
 similar to the one he had given Hartsfoot, with 
 whom he now shook hands, and their adieux 
 over, the former let them out by the glass door 
 that opened on the Mall, at which he stood utter- 
 ing a final '' Good-night," and watched them till 
 they had turned the corner, and cleared the iron 
 gates, at which a drowsy watchman challenged 
 them and rang his bell after them, informing the 
 sleeping inhabitants in the adjacent houses that 
 it was " Past twelve of the clock, and a cloudy 
 night."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 329 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE FIKST DARK SHADOW. 
 
 ^OROTHY was lying listlessly on a 
 couch, reading Robert Ascham's 
 " ScliolemoMer^ pitying poor Lady 
 Jane Grey, the girl martyr, and 
 wondering what sort of a wretch — instead of a 
 saint and a martyr — she (Dorothy) would have 
 become, if instead of ceaseless kindness and con- 
 stant care, and every wish anticipated, she had 
 been subjected to the " nips," " bobs," and 
 " pinches" of poor Lady Jane, the breaking of 
 her spirit over the ruts of systematic restraints 
 and preventions, and the grinding her brains 
 under Greek mill stones ? 
 
 Being now the middle of October, though the 
 sky was bright, the trees were nearly bare, and 
 the Mall was strewed thick with " sear and yellow 
 leaves." Mrs. Neville sat working near the 
 vvindow — plain homely work ; in short, a set of 
 garments for Bridget Barton, who, with her 
 mother, was now installed at the lodge gate of 
 The Chestnuts. Every now and then, Dorothy
 
 330 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 looked off her book and over at her mother, in 
 whose face she thought she detected an unusual 
 expression of care and preoccupation ; she longed 
 to knowj \Qi felt a delicacy about inquiring the 
 cause, as there were no secrets between them ; 
 and, therefore, she knew that had her mother 
 thought fit to tell her, she would have done so. 
 Still, this silence between them oppressed her ; 
 so, addressing Mrs. Neville, she said — " Listen 
 to this, mother darling ; it is a letter of Roger 
 Ascham to Sir William Paulet, about his 
 (Ascham's) wife, and substituting mother and 
 daughter for husband and wife, it is exactly your 
 case and mine. He says — ^ God, I thank Him, 
 has given me such an one, as the less she seeth 
 I do for her, the more loving in all causes she is 
 to me ; when I again have wished her well rather 
 than done her good, and therefore the more glad 
 she is to bear my fortune with me, the more sorry 
 am I that hitherto she hath found rather a loving 
 husband (daughter) than a lucky one to her." 
 
 Mrs. Neville put down her work, walked over 
 to the sofa, and seating herself beside it, took 
 Dorothy's hand in hers, and rubbed it gently up 
 and down, as she said — ^^ Nay, dear child ; you 
 have always been the best of children to me. So 
 it's not at all a case in point ; and as for luck, I 
 consider it the greatest of all good fortune to 
 have such a daughter."
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 331 
 
 Dorothy all this time was carefully reading her 
 mother's face, to try if she could decipher the 
 carking hieroglyphic that was behind the tears 
 that filled her mother's eyes, but in vain ; so she 
 merely said — " Then what must T think of my 
 good fortune in having such a mother ? I know 
 I often think as I was to lose one of my parents, 
 how good it was of God not to take you ; for 
 what are fathers at best to their children? — 
 merely appendages ; they are never part and parcel 
 of them, as a mother is." 
 
 '' Hush I Thea. You must not say such 
 things." 
 
 " Well — but, dear, you know I was only seven 
 years old when my father died, and I have not 
 the slightest recollection of him. If he was like 
 that picture of him at Clumber Chase, that be- 
 longed to Sir Reginald Mortimer, and was left 
 with the place to dear Mrs. Broderick, he was 
 certainly very handsome ; but what's that to me ?" 
 
 ^^I think it has been a great deal to you," 
 smiled Mrs. Neville. 
 
 " Humph ! Well, one thing I cannot under • 
 stand, which is, what you could have been about, 
 mamma, when you refused poor dear Master 
 Hartsfoot?" 
 
 " I was about eighteen, and as foolish as most 
 girls of that age generally are, not excepting 
 Dorothy Neville."
 
 332 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " I admit the impertinence, but not tlie truth 
 of that assertion, Mrs. Neville." 
 
 " I suppose you will think me more imperti- 
 nent when I tell you that I have two offers of 
 marriage for you ; one from Sir Charles Slingshy, 
 for his son, the other from Lord Henry Howard 
 for himself." 
 
 And Mrs. Neville drew a deep breath, as if she 
 had been relieved from a heavy weight. 
 
 Dorothy looked at her for half a second, and 
 then said, ^' No ; not yoii^ dear mother, but 
 them." 
 
 " I cannot return that for an answer. What 
 am I to say ?" 
 
 " Why don't you know that the truth should 
 be spoken at all times ? So tell them first the 
 usual falsehood on such occasions, that I feel 
 highly honoured, &c., &c., but that I intend being 
 an old maid, as fools spitefully call sensible wo- 
 men." 
 
 Mrs. Neville looked down upon the little hand 
 she was still rubbing, and was silent for about a 
 minute, but she did not smile ; on the contrary 
 she looked graver and sadder than before. At 
 length she said — 
 
 " You know, my dear child^ were I to consult 
 my own selfishness, I should rather you never 
 did marry, and I'm sure you also know that 
 never will I, by word or deed, try to influence you
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 333 
 
 to marry anyone you don't care for ; at the same 
 time, I think it not only a pity, but derogatory to 
 any woman's proper pride, to waste her life in 
 regretting one who has ceased to — care for — or — 
 or — even to remember her/' 
 
 "Mother!" cried Dorothy, half starting from 
 her recumbent position, leaning on her elbow, 
 while with her disengaged hand she almost con- 
 vulsively clasped her mother's wrist, her cheeks 
 flushing crimson, and the pupils of her eyes dilat- 
 ing, as she darted her searching glances into Mrs. 
 Neville's eyes, looking like a deer at bay, " Mother, 
 what do you mean ?" 
 
 " Well, my poor child, you must hear it at 
 last, so better sooner than later ; Captain Bro- 
 derick has made an offer of his hand to Lady 
 Jemima Montagu, has been refused, and is go- 
 ing out to Tangier to be on my Lord Dart- 
 mouth's staff in consequence." 
 
 " And y^^^ believe it?" said Dorothy, with a 
 look of magnificent scorn." 
 
 '' It is the town talk." 
 
 " Were it the world talk it's false !" 
 
 " I fear not ; at least it is quite true that he 
 goes to Tangier." 
 
 "Lady Jemima Montagu! Ha! ha! ha! 
 Why not Bridget Butson, your cook maid, at 
 once, when they were about it ?" 
 
 " She is certainly very plain/' said Mrs.
 
 334 Clumber Chase, 1670. 
 
 JN"eville, mildly, quite alarmed at Dorothy's 
 feverish excitement. 
 
 '' Plain ! it's not that ; perhaps he don't think 
 her plain, but so uneducated, so uncouth, so 
 downright vulgar, so unkempt even, never hav- 
 ing had as much care or culture as she would 
 have come by in her father's house, and truly 
 that would have been so little as only to have 
 half filled the eye of a bodkin ; but first sent 
 to board and lodge with one set of tradespeople 
 and then with another, with no other companions 
 but them and her maid, till even Mr. Pepys, who 
 is neither very exigeant nor very refined, used to 
 be quite shocked at the way in which she used to 
 romp with these people, who used to think it very 
 good fan to make her merry with wine." 
 
 '' Well, but, my dear love, you know what a 
 worldly time-serving man Sir Allen is, and if 
 she were ten times less attractive and less estim- 
 able he only thinks of her as Lord Sandwich's 
 daughter ; and he also knows that the King has 
 done more, not only in conferring titles and high 
 appointments, but in hard cash, for that family 
 than he has done for so many others, who have 
 served not only him but his father before him, 
 so much longer and so much more devotedly_, — 
 take poor Lord Worcester for instance ; and Sir 
 Allen also knows that my Lord Sandwich still 
 .possesses the King's ear, from being even more
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 335 
 
 convenient and subservient to him than Colonel 
 Titus, or than the Duke of Buckingham himself. 
 Therefore, were Lady Jemima his Satanic majesty's 
 daughter, and a little blacker than her sire, that 
 would make no difference to Sir Allen." 
 
 " Then why don't he marry her himself? And 
 if she were his Satanic majesty's daughter, then 
 Sir Allen would be all the better matched." 
 
 " I don't suppose there is a woman in England 
 who would marry him." 
 
 " Don't be too sure ; English women, as a 
 rule, would marry anything that had a title and 
 a rent roll ; let alone both ; and the exceptions 
 that would not, are too few to be worth mention- 
 ing. But the question is not of Sir Allen 
 Broderick's marriage, but of his son's ; and do 
 you suppose the latter is such a complete machine, 
 that his father has only to wind him up and set 
 him to execute any purpose he may design ?" 
 
 " Habit is proverbially called second nature, 
 and the second nature that springs from custom 
 is unfortunately invariably stronger than the 
 original nature, which it has completely paralysed, 
 if not utterly annihilated. And the grinding and 
 subjective process exercised by all domestic 
 tyrants, more especially when it has the warrant 
 of parental authority, generally ends by taking 
 the muscle and sinews out of the character of 
 their victims, and reducing them to a mere mass
 
 336 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 of malleable and plastic weakness. You have 
 seen the manner in which even the most fero- 
 cious wild animals are tamed by the loaded whip 
 of their keeper, and quite as much are they cowed 
 by the irresistible power of that inquisitorial 
 human eye so constantly fixed upon them, and 
 which alone is quite sufficient to insure the most 
 abject obedience, even when the loaded whip is 
 not brought into play. And if such is the result 
 of indomitable human will and coercive power, 
 upon even the fiercest natures, what must it be 
 on the gentler and more affectionate ones of 
 lambs or dogs? and I look upon poor young 
 Broderick under the ferule of his paternal keeper 
 exactly in this light ; there was no ferocity to 
 tame — no savage instincts to cow, but a gentle 
 nature to crush, and a clinging and affectionately 
 confiding spirit to quench into perfect nullity, 
 and it has been done." 
 
 '^ Oh ! mother, it is not like you to turn 
 people's very virtues against them, and place 
 really the most admirable trait in Gilbert Brode- 
 rick's character — his child-like submission to so 
 unloveable and unesteemable a father, in the 
 odious and contemptible light of inane and in- 
 sentient weakness." 
 
 '' Alas ! my dear child, all our virtues and all 
 our vices are placed so closely together, that like 
 parti-coloured silks, under the influence of wet,
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 337 
 
 when the colours run into one another, each dis- 
 figures its neighbour, and the whole fabric is 
 spoilt. It is these terrible collisions of extremes 
 meeting, that flaws and jars the whole world ; in 
 fact, as John Bunyan more terribly and tersely 
 says—* At the gates of Paradise itself, there is a 
 bye-way to hell.' Were our virtues and our vices, 
 our good and our evil qualities assorted and re- 
 strained within perfectly separate vessels — as the 
 poisons and the antidotes are in a chemist's labo- 
 ratory — life would indeed be easy : so easy, that 
 it would be almost as difficult to miss the right ; 
 as it is now to hit it ; but, no — I must return to 
 my homely simile of the parti-coloured silk. All 
 the good and all the evil in us is woven into the 
 same tissue, and is thus rendered so liable to be 
 injured by extraneous and external influences. 
 For instance, how rare is it to see very mild and 
 even tempered people who are not apathetic, and 
 wanting in energy and quick perception ? or very 
 sensitive, impulsive people, who are capable of 
 calm dispassionate judgment? Very generous 
 and unselfish natures who are not improvident ? 
 or intensely prudent ones who do not culminate 
 in selfishness and parsimony ? and so on to the 
 end of the chapter. For it is rare — very rare, to 
 find great consistency and decision of character 
 that does not amount to obstinacy, or extreme 
 amiability, and yielding to others, that does not 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 degenerate into weakness. But such an alterna- 
 tion and reciprocity is there in all things ; and 
 were there not, no doubt the gravitation of the 
 world would be endangered. That certain it is, 
 that some virtues lead to vices, just as some 
 faults lead to virtues, and I confess I ever prefer 
 the latter to the former. There are but two vices 
 which leave their possessors no hope of redemp- 
 tion — VANITY and HYPocEisY ; the first sacrifices 
 everyone and everything, and violates every law 
 divine and human, to minister to its own insa- 
 tiable cravings ; and the latter erects an altar over 
 the carnage, and affects to be offering incense to 
 Heaven." 
 
 '^ Well, I certainly don't think Gilbert Brode- 
 rick can be accused of either of those." 
 
 " Indeed, I don't think he can ; or of any other 
 fault but what at fiirst sight has a faux air of 
 virtue, poor young man, and that it is which 
 makes me feel for him with all my heart." 
 
 " Then how can you, mother, believe in the 
 story of his wanting to marry Lady Jemima 
 Montagu ?" 
 
 " I never thought, and still less did I ever say, 
 that he wanted to marry her. I only thought, 
 and still think, that Sir Allen would make him 
 do so had Sir Allen so decided." 
 
 " Oh ! mother, mother, you know that Sir 
 Allen is an Atheist — at least, people say so — yet
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 339 
 
 do you, can you think that if he ordered his son 
 to publicly swear that he believed there was no 
 God that he would do so ?" 
 
 " Sir Allen is far too great a hypocrite and too 
 worldly wise, like all hypocrites, to do anything 
 of that kind, depend upon it ; but that's a very 
 different thing to his son's making a sordid and 
 worldly marriage to obey his father." 
 
 " A very different thing, indeed ; still, when 
 Gilbert Broderick publicly abjures his God, then, 
 and not till then, I'll believe he intends, or ever 
 intended, to marry Lady Jemima Montagu." 
 
 This was all Dorothy said aloud, while in her 
 own mind she added, " or any other woman but 
 me." 
 
 "And Lord Harry Howard and Mr. Slingsby, 
 what am I to say to them ?" 
 
 "Oh! hang them," said Dorothy, pettishly, 
 as she gave such a violent pull to her hanker= 
 chief both ways, the border of which she had been 
 examining very minutely, that she tore it. 
 
 " Nay, dear, * Do unto others as you would 
 they should do unto you.' And suppose Captain 
 Broderick had made an offer of marriage to any 
 young lady, and her courteous reply had been, 
 * Hang him !' how should you like that?" 
 
 " And so she or anybody else might hang him 
 if he had.^' 
 
 And Dorothy turned her face quickly and with 
 great energy to the walL
 
 340 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 " Well, love, I won't tease you now ; but, in- 
 deed, Thea, it grieves and frets me^ to see you 
 wasting your life upon a will-o'-the-wisp, which, 
 with such a man as Sir Allen, Gilbert Broderick 
 must ever be to you." 
 
 " Why ^2?^r, mother? In the first place Sir 
 Allen will not live for ever," said Dorothy, now 
 again turning suddenly round, " for do you sup- 
 pose that the devil 7^^r^r forecloses his mortgages? 
 But even assuming Sir Allen Broderick should 
 enter into partnership with the Wandering Jew, 
 I don't consider not marrying^ wasting one's life 
 at all." 
 
 " Well, for you, who hate anything mean or 
 cowardly, Thea, it's quite as bad ; for it's running 
 away from the battle, and seeking safety in an 
 inglorious ambush." 
 
 " Ah ! mother, mine," said Dorothy, trying to 
 laugh, while the tears were in her eyes and the 
 colour had left her cheeks. ** It's pretty to see, 
 as Mr. Pepys said at his cousin Joyce's wedding, 
 * how glad all the old springed birds are to see 
 the poor young ones got into the net.' But I am 
 sorry I cannot furnish you with that amusement, 
 as I newr intend to marry." 
 
 '* Vows on such subjects are silly things." 
 
 ^' I make no vows, for I think they are worse 
 than silly ; they are wicked, for when all things 
 about us change, how can we expect to remain 
 unchanged and unchangeable ? > Neither do I
 
 1670. Clumber Chase. 341 
 
 coincide with Mr. Milton's convenient morality, 
 that — 
 
 * Oaths made in pain are violent and void,' 
 
 *^ So, ' Swear not at all,' is a safer rule." 
 
 " Very true ; therefore it is that we Protestants 
 think monastic vows so wrong in principle, and 
 so terrible in practice." 
 
 " Ah ! and how about the other still more ter- 
 rible matrimonial vows ? Does it not seem to 
 you rather impious to sjvear to love and honour 
 a person all your life whom experience may teach 
 you is hateful, and everything that is dishonour- 
 able? And as for men, we know what a mere 
 mockery the most solemn of the vows they make 
 in this contract are to most of them ? But hav- 
 ing made a code of honour (?) suited to their 
 actions, called custom, the said custom upholds 
 them among their peers in violating the laws of 
 God, and agrees to ignore their perjuries. Now 
 to submit, however reluctantly, to all the pains 
 and penalties our lords and masters might think 
 fit to impose upon us, that would be another 
 affair, and however tyrannical and unjust, there 
 would be nothing impious in it, for it Koukl be 
 within our power to perform, but to ' love ' and 
 * honour, ' what is odious and despicable is not.'''' 
 
 " You know Master Hartsfoot called you 
 Councillor Neville the other day," smiled Mrs. 
 Neville, " and I always avoid litigation, so I
 
 342 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 won't argue with you on that point, more 
 especially, as I could not conscientiously argue 
 against you. But I am looking upon the matter 
 in its mere natural and mundane aspect, and I 
 think women who do not marry are incomplete ; 
 that is, they fail to receive the full complement 
 of existence their Creator intended, by their 
 natures not being fully developed ; in as much as 
 their affections and capacities, instead of being 
 strengthened and enlarged by diffusion among 
 many objects, are narrowed and weakened by 
 being concentrated within the chilling and re- 
 stricted sphere of isolation." 
 
 " Now, *• Out of thine own mouth will I con- 
 demn thee,' for take all the wives and mothers 
 you know, or ever read, or heard of, and make a 
 Pelion upon Ossa of their devotion, their utility, 
 and their self-sacrifice, and it would not make 
 such a large heart, such a noble mind, such a 
 blameless and extensively useful life as dear Mrs. 
 Broderick's, nor one, which so far as self is con- 
 cerned, has been one great Lethe." 
 
 " True; but exceptions don't make — they only 
 prove rules." 
 
 "Indeed, mother darling, except yourself, I 
 don't know anyone who lives so completely in, 
 and for others as she does." 
 
 *^ Oh ! Thea, it's rank blasphemy to compare 
 me with Phillida Broderick ! Nothing can com- 
 pare with her but her own dear, loveable, match-
 
 1670. Clumber Chase, 343 
 
 less self. I declare I feel almost as much shocked 
 as if you had compared Solomon Eagle to St. 
 John !" 
 
 " Well, I don't ; but," added Dorothy, looking 
 towards the window at the leafless, dismantled 
 trees, '' we must accept our blights and our 
 desolations in this life, as well as our sunshine 
 and our greenery." 
 
 " Aye, truly must we ; but only as they come 
 — not by forestalling and anticipations. We can- 
 not by ^ searching find out God,' but wQknow He 
 neither slumbers nor sleeps. And how silently, 
 invisibly, but ceaselessly and surely. His great 
 handmaid. Nature, works ; under the winter 
 snows the roses are still growing, despite the 
 bleak wintry winds — she is ever weaving garlands 
 of flowers, spreading over the plum that sort of 
 pulverised, purple air, that we call bloom, and 
 giving a ruddier tint to the peach, of which ever 
 progressing work there is neither sign nor hint 
 to our dense perceptions, till, as Master Herrick 
 has it — 
 
 ' Spring from her green lap throws, 
 The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.' 
 
 And depend upon it, dear child, our fates are 
 always weaving in the great loom of Time — over- 
 looked, planned, and directed, by the same un- 
 erring Intelligence ; though while the tissue is 
 being woven, we can neither trace the pattern 
 nor see the beauty of the design, nor is it in-
 
 344 Clumber Chase. 1670. 
 
 tended that we should. And to us the shuttle 
 may often seem thrown with unnecessary force, 
 but He who aims it must know best." 
 
 " At all events, dear mother, as you have ever 
 taught me, we should trust where we cannot 
 trace, and we must submit ; so it is not only 
 wrong, but useless to ' kick against the pricks.' 
 But I think I could submit better at The Chest- 
 nuts, with my dogs, and pigeons, and birds, and 
 flowers, and all my other subjects about me, than 
 I can here. Moreover, in the country winter, 
 however poor and miserable, is clean and respect- 
 able, and does not give way to such squalid 
 filth as it does in London, where the snow itself 
 is ever wrestling with chimney sweeps, and so 
 has to go into mourning for the loss of every- 
 thing belonging to it. Besides, my incarnate 
 sermon, Audrey Barton, will teach me how to 
 behave myself, for after all, her burden has been 
 ten thousand times heavier than mine, and look 
 how she has borne it !" 
 
 " Yes, and also look, how in His own good 
 time God has lightened it for her." 
 
 " Oh ! dear mother," said Dorothy, throwing 
 her arms round Mrs. Neville's neck and bursting 
 into tears, " what an ungrateful wretch 1 am to 
 murmur at anything so long as I have you I" 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newby, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London.
 
 ERRATA OF CLUMBER CHASE- 
 
 Vol. 1. 
 At page 3, for " leze niijestt^ " r^ad " lese Majeste." 
 At page 0, for " fla(,-on " read " iiacon." 
 At page 11, for ''Jules Caezar" read "Jules Cesar." 
 At page 11, for " qui maiigait toujours, et ne dine jamais ;" read " (jui 
 
 maugait toujours, ft 113 dii^it ji'Uii;." 
 At page 130, for " tangled secrets" read " tangled sects." 
 At page 233, for "Date Oleulum Belisario" read "Date Obolura 
 
 Belisario." 
 At page 297, f3r "daisy cloaks" read "daisy clocks." 
 At page 303. for " souff re douleurs " read " souffre douleur." 
 At page 816, for "Heias" read " Helas." 
 
 Vol. 2. 
 
 At page 21, for " C"eu est que I'eolat " read " C'en est que I'eclat." 
 At page 278, in foot note, for " piuk-white lute string," read "pinked- 
 
 white lute string." 
 At page 304, for " Me, exit regneo " read " ne exeat regno." 
 
 Vol. 3. 
 
 At page 52, for "plat de lionnes uouvelles " read "plat de bonnes 
 nouvelles." 
 
 At page 91, for " J'ai niais pauvres " read " j'ai mes pauvres." 
 
 At page 209, f or " Carcomet " read " Carconet." 
 
 At page 218, at " n'ayez pas peur," after the word " peur," there 
 should be a comma. 
 
 At page 2-50, for " Helas Test clair " read " Helas c'est clair." 
 
 At page 310, for " covered with perfect velvet " read " covered with 
 purple velvet.' , 
 
 At page 312, for "also his brother James" read also "his brother 
 Jambres." 
 
 At page 51, for " prastonpans " read " Prestonpans." 
 
 For " it's on a great many persons' minds, for that Master Xoah's, ' 
 read "for that matter, Xoah."