by Moyle Sherer
CHAP. X.
Can warres, and jarres, and fierce contention, Swoln hatred, and consuming envie, spring From piety? HENRY MORE.
The good parson of Cheddar was never informed of the severe misfortuneof his son till all danger was long past, and his convalescence wasadvanced to such a point that he could assure his parents he shouldsoon be perfectly restored to health and to his wonted activity andstrength.
Noble and his wife were both deeply affected at the thought of allwhich Cuthbert must have suffered, and at the considerate care whichhe had manifested for their feelings. His letter was brief, and hisrelation of the conduct of Sir Charles Lambert was given in such acalm and quiet tone that it was plain he had learned the hard lessonto forgive an enemy. Yet it contained some expressions which troubledhis father with the too sure presage of that course which Cuthbert wasabout to follow.
He intended, it said, to leave Milverton at Michaelmas, and shouldrecommend that Arthur, who was sufficiently forward in his studies,should be then entered at the University. "I shall not," it added,"accompany the dear boy to Oxford; indeed, with my sentiments, itwould be alike unjust to Sir Oliver and to the youth himself to retainmy present office in this family. Where a tutor is called upon toconceal his opinions and suppress his feelings (on the most importantand the most sublime subjects which affect the present interests ofsociety and the everlasting happiness of man), in his dailyintercourse with his pupil, both parties are very seriously injured."
It was particularly remarked by his mother that, in this letter, whileCuthbert acknowledged, in general terms of warmth, the kindness withwhich he had been treated throughout his illness by the whole familyat Milverton, and while he mentioned the friendliness of Juxon, ofwhom they had never previously heard, and dwelt still more on his deepobligations to Master Randal, the surgeon, he never even namedMistress Katharine, of whom he had spoken with such a romantic warmthin his former correspondence.
"My dear," said Noble, "Cuthbert has been on the brink of the grave,and his mind is full of all that has been solemn and awakening in thatawful experience; but it is not a good sign that he has avoided alldetail of that experience to us. I doubt not that his piety has beendeepened, but I am not without a fear that his head is taken up withnew notions, both of doctrine and of duty, and that he was unwillingto open them out to us. However, if by any path he has advanced to anearer and more affecting view of his Redeemer than that to which hehas hitherto attained, let us rejoice and thank God. He has all alongbeen deficient in that simplicity of view which begets humility,peace, and joy:--he refines too much on every subject which ispresented to his mind; muses when he should act; speculates when heshould pray; and is lost in the cold and unsubstantial clouds whichveil the mountain, when he might stand upon the serene summit in thewarm light of the Sun of righteousness.
"It was ever thus with him. In childhood we neglected to subdue hiswill, and we shall suffer, and he himself will suffer for our fond butmistaken indulgence."
"I am sure, dear, that he was always affectionate and dutiful, andalways will be."
"Nay, Constance, that does not follow. He will always love us, I amwell persuaded; but whether he will remain obedient to our wishes inthose trying scenes which may sooner or later be presented to our eyesis very doubtful."
"Well, Noble, it will be time enough to think of that when the trialcomes:--happen what may, I feel certain that all will be safe andhappy where you are. God ever takes good care of his own; and I alwaysfeel that there is a blessing and a guard round about our dwelling,for your dear sake."
"Wife, how can you talk so weakly. What is there in two worms of theearth, like you and me, that should procure for us an exemption fromcalamity?--but this is unprofitable talking--sufficient unto the dayis the evil thereof--to enjoy is to obey--and the voice ofthanksgiving is melody. Let us bless God for past mercies, and blesshim by trust for all future goodness."
Their conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Peter, tosay that Master Daws, the sour precisian, who, it may be remembered,would have before prevented the customary sports and pleasures on thefestival of the Mayday, was at the gate, and wanted to see ParsonNoble, for a few minutes, on very urgent business.
To rise and go out and ask him into his study with all courtesy was,of course, the duty of Noble, both as a brother minister and aChristian gentleman; but it was with no doubt as to the nature andobject of his visit that he did so, and with a desire to bring theirinterview to as early a close as might consist with common civility.
The contrast of the two parsons as they entered the study, and asMaster Daws seated himself in the tall chair which Noble drew forwardfor him with a quick and rather, indeed, an impatient motion, wascomic in the extreme, and would have greatly diverted any of Noble'sold college cronies, as it would, of a truth, the good vicar himself,could he have looked on, and been spared the vexation of playing as aprincipal in the dull performance.
Master Daws was a tall, gaunt, bony personage, of a stature exceedingsix feet by nearly two inches: he presented a rigid outline of sharpangles from his cheek bones to his pointed and protuberant ankles. Hisfeatures were coarse; his complexion muddy; his eyes round and dull;his forehead low; and there was an expression of bad temper about thecorners of his mouth. His black hair was cut close, and he had thinweak eye-brows.
He seated himself with a slow solemnity of manner; placed his tallgreasy cane erect between his knees, and folded his clumsy hands uponthe top of it; turned up the whites of his eyes in a pretendedejaculation; and in a drawling tone delivered himself of hishypocritical errand as follows:--
"My dear brother in the Lord--thou art esteemed a master inIsrael--thou hast a name to live. I would fain hope that thou art nota willing partaker of the sins of thy people; but verily they stink inthe nostrils of all true Christians, who are thy neighbours. We haveconferred together--we are sore grieved--we are ashamed for thysake--and I am come to reason with thee alone concerning theabominations which are daily committed in thy parish, lest thou perishand thy people with thee."
The good parson listened to this strange address without anger,without wonder, and without reply. The graceful ease of his composedattitude of attention,--the clear light of his kind intelligenteyes,--his high pale intellectual forehead,--his frame slender, and alittle bent with the weight of advancing years, and the thin whitehairs scattered on his temples,--would have made the sincere butdeluded fanatic hesitate to proceed, or would have melted hisremonstrance into all that was gentle and affectionate in expression.On the conscious, the interested, and the incensed hypocrite, however,his calmness had the opposite effect; and Master Daws, with a moststern tyranny of tongue, in language clumsily misquoted from thesacred books of the prophets, and grossly misapplied, went forward todenounce the wrath of Heaven against the poor rustics of Cheddar andtheir aged pastor. This speech we would rather leave to theimagination of such readers as may be familiar with the incongruousand disgusting jargon in which the sour zealots and the gloomysectarians, who were then daily extending their severe notions,uttered their iron anathemas against the innocent gaieties of life. Atthe close of his very offensive harangue, he drew forth from hispocket a small volume in black letter, and presented it to the goodvicar with these words:--
"Brother, I have been perhaps too warm; but the fire burned within me,and it is accounted the first duty of a servant to be faithful. It ismy zeal for the Lord;--and herewith, in love and compassion to thypoor blinded people, and in pity to thy soul, I do present to thee forthy private reading, and for the instruction of thy benighted mind,this book, which is _The Anatomie of Abuses: containing a Discoverieor briefe Summarie of such notable Vices and Corruptions as now raignein many Christian Countreyes of the Worlde: but especially in theCountrey of Ailgna: together with most fearfull Examples of God'sJudgements executed upon the Wicked for the same, as well in Ailgna oflate, as in other Places elsewhere. Very godly, to be read of all trueChristians every
where; but most chiefly to be regarded in England.Made Dialogue-wise by Phillip Stubbes._ This wordy title-page, placinghis spectacles upon his nose, he read slowly with a nasal whine, whichthe compression of the ill constructed spectacles he wore not a littleassisted."
"Neighbour Daws," said Noble patiently, "I do not need thy service inthis matter, seeing I have on my own shelves the book of MasterPhillip Stubbes; and I deny not that it contains some godly maxims andsound precepts, and it may have done some good by its ridicule ofmany vanities, and its condemnation of many sins and abuses: but Ithink he distinguishes not between things innocent and hurtful, andtears up many pleasant flowers of God's giving, under the dark fancythat they are poisonous weeds;--for the rest that thou hast spokenthyself concerning the little flock and fold over which the providenceof God hath made me the humble and willing shepherd, I will not callthee unmannerly and uncharitable. I have heard thee with pain, thoughwith patience; and, while I give thee full credit for sincerity in thyopinions, desire not to hear them further, now or ever again."
As thus he spoke, he rose, and indicated by that action his wish thatthe interview should not be prolonged. Daws also, with a horriblesmile upon his hideous face, in which was to be discerned all the madirritation of a mean person, who felt himself despised, and for themoment baffled in producing alarm, raised himself slowly from hisseat, and answered,--"Satan, the prince of hell, is lord over thyvillage and thy people--and he has blinded thy aged eyes, and sealedthy dumb mouth:--verily the Lord shall visit for these things, andthat speedily;"--so saying, he stalked out with uplifted eyes, and ashe passed the threshold stamped the dust from his feet with avindictive action, and departed. "I wish that Cuthbert could havewitnessed this scene," said Noble, as he saw the ruthless and enviousbigot pass forth out of the wicket, and stride angrily across thechurch-yard; "but the wish is vain."
Upon inquiring of Peter, he learned that, on the preceding evening,this morose personage had found a dozen children playing round a smallbonfire, in a glen about half a mile from the village, andcelebrating, as a game of play, the festival of St. John's eve,--theobservance of which had in the present reign been discontinued. Thejoyous urchins, alike innocent of pagan or popish idolatry, weredancing about the flames, and tossing flowers into the rivulet, whichflowed past the spot where they had kindled them, when Daws, who hadhis secret designs in many a walk which he took to the neighbourhoodof Cheddar, came suddenly upon them, and driving them off withexecrations and blows, kicked the half burned sticks into thewater:--the little fearless sinners, however, making a swift andactive retreat up a rock, where they felt secure from pursuit,revenged themselves by shouts and laughter; and in this the littlefellow who had witnessed the ludicrous fall and flight of this sameDaws on May morning, and who had been again recognised by him thisevening, led the merry chorus of impudent little rebels withconspicuous glee.
Although Noble listened to this news with a smile, the severe andmischievous spirit evinced during his interview with Daws, both inlanguage, tone, and manner, gave him more uneasiness than he chose toimpart to his wife, to whom he related much of what had passed betweenthem in a light and jocular vein. But, alone, he could not but beimpressed with the conviction, that a curate of this harsh andmalevolent character was a very uncomfortable and unsafe neighbour,and might hereafter prove dangerous.
However, he had now plainly paid his last visit in the quality ofbrother clergyman; and, if he was ever to come in that of enemy andaccuser, he could only do so under the restraining guidance of thatmighty, merciful, and mysterious Providence, which ordereth all thingswisely and well.
The good pastor was ill qualified to counteract the intrigues, or tocontend with the violence, of parties. He was a quietist, an optimist,a dweller at home, enjoying to-day, and taking little anxious thoughtfor the morrow. His hours were divided between his parish, his study,and his garden.
Old Blount, the most honest and hospitable of English franklins, wasthe only neighbour with whom he could associate upon a footing ofmutual intercourse: but there was not a threshold in the village whichhe did not often cross with some friendly inquiry or cheerful wordsupon his lip; not a child, that would not rather run to than from him;and the cottage curs were too familiar with his step and voice to domore than raise and turn their heads as they lay watching at thedoors, when Noble passed by.
His chief recreation was the weekly visit to Wells. As regularly asthe appointed day came round, the worthy parson mounted his old whitemare, with her well stuffed saddle, rejoicing, in a seat covered withcloth of a pale sky blue, much faded, and he was carried at ameditative jogtrot to the fair and ancient city.
Here, at the house of his friend, he would refresh his spirits bylistening to (and sometimes joining in the rich performance of) thebest madrigals of the never surpassed composers of that day, andtaking his part in most pleasant and tuneful exercises on the viol andthe lute.
The troublous aspect of the times had of late somewhat altered thecharacter of these meetings; and the two holyday hours were now forthe most part, if not entirely, consumed in grave and anxiousconsultations on public affairs. The severe spirit of the churchreformers of that period frowned upon every semblance of pleasure: tothem the song of harvest, the dance of the village green, and themerry catch round the winter hearth, were things sinful and forbidden,and the peal of the solemn organ in the house of prayer and praisewas hated as an abomination.
Yet they might have read in Scripture, in the very words of holy menof God, that "the ear of the Lord listeneth to the song of the reaper,and the joy of harvest; and that he delights not to turn the dance ofthe vintage into mourning, nor to make the young cease from theirmusic:" but because the good provisions of God are daily abused by themany, who consider not the gracious Giver of them, therefore theywould have the bread of all steeped in tears, and eaten with thebitter herbs of mourning. Of a truth, in some degree every Christianman, and minister more especially, must be a mourner, and is: but thespirit would fail and faint if it might not also taste the richconsolations of a hallowed joy; and if, amid the labours, the toils,and the mean cares of the daily pilgrimage, man might not stoop togather the flower at his feet, or pause to listen to the featheredchoristers of God's own temple, it would be to refuse and put away,with a sullen unthankfulness, the comforts which the Father of mercieshas provided.
Of such enjoyments Noble was most fearlessly fond. To him the world ofnature was a vast and richly illuminated volume; on the variouspictures of which he could pore for ever, with all the wonder, andwith all the rapture, of childhood:--"his Father made them all"--thatwas his feeling. The arrows of trouble and disappointment fell bluntedfrom a bosom, the shield of which was a God seen, acknowledged, andfelt, in all things visible, as the very essence of love.
