The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Moyle Sherer

  CHAP. XI.

  He makes the infirmity of his temper pass for revelations. BUTLER.

  The summer months at Milverton rolled swiftly on, Cuthbert slowly, butperfectly, regained his strength; and, early in August, he was oncemore able to walk abroad and to take exercise on horseback; but hisvivacity and animation did not return with his health: he was nolonger the cheerful and entertaining companion at table, or in theintervals of leisure. Sir Oliver found him a dull restraint, andwearied of his presence: even his pupil, who was truly attached tohim, and was still, in the hours of study, delighted with hispreceptor, felt the sad and depressing change; and if it had not beenfor the frequent visits of George Juxon, would have been disappointedof many of those joyous and manly exercises which Juxon delighted toencourage, and in which he excelled. The only diversions by whichCuthbert could now be attracted were fencing, and the use of the broadsword: but he practised them without a smile; and there was anearnestness of attention and a seriousness of effort about him,whenever he took a lesson from Juxon, which drove away smiles andjokes. His stamp was angry; the glance of his eye rapid and piercing;and after six weeks of occasional practice, when Juxon told him hewould soon be a strong and complete swordsman, the grave scholar, soquiet and gentle in all his ways and words on common occasions,hastily and vehemently exclaimed, "Thank God."

  "For what?" asked his good-tempered instructor, "for what do you thankGod so warmly?"

  "It matters not, it matters not," replied Cuthbert, hastily; "timewill show."

  Juxon put down his sword, and, looking him earnestly in the face,asked him if he was well?

  "What a strange question! quite well."

  "No, Master Cuthbert, it is not always that a man is well who callshimself so, or even who thinks himself to be so. We are alone; we arefriends; tell me what has thus moved you; tell me what it is that hasso changed and saddened you; what are the dark purposes which lie hidin your bosom?"

  "Methinks this question is yet more strange. I have no purposes thatbe not honest; none that will not bear the light of open day; but,yet, I may not care to trouble others or myself by babbling of them."

  "Does the blow still rankle in your bosom, Cuthbert? Have youretracted the pardon uttered on your bed? And do you mean to seek outSir Charles, and make him do battle for your revenge?"

  "Master Juxon, that is not well asked: such purpose would be dark,indeed: was not my pardon spoken before God, and at the grave's mouth?No; I forgave him as I hope to be forgiven; nay, in that it was a stabwhich sought my life I forgave it more readily than I could have donea blow; that, indeed, such slaves we are of pride, that might haverankled still."

  "True--I had forgotten--and my words have wronged you; but, Cuthbert,whatever are your purposes, they do not make you happy. I met you theother day riding much faster than is your wont, and your countenancewas clouded, and your teeth were set, as if in hottest anger, and youwould not stop, but only muttered a good morrow as you passed swiftlyby. What do all these things mean?"

  "They mean that I am sick at heart for England; sick for the meekman's wrongs. I had just then met an aged countryman, his furrowedcheek newly branded, for a churchyard brawl: I questioned him closely,and found him a sufferer for conscience' sake, falsely accused andpersecuted by a godless parson of his parish."

  "Cuthbert, did the countryman tell truth? Did he name the parish andthe parson?"

  "He did; I know them well: in Oxfordshire was this outrage done, andthe crime is not three months old."

  "Well, here is a case of wrong to be made known and to be redressed.Scandals there must be, even in the most sacred offices, when they areheld by mere men. Some are cruel, and some are wanton by nature, andto punish these we have our judges and our bishops."

  "Yes we have--and the same who ruled the decisions of theStar-chamber. The wrong redressed! it would be smiled at; and if itwere punished, what then? There's nothing but the grave-worm can takeaway the brand from the old man's cheek: his grandchildren will puttheir little fingers on the mark and ask the story of it, and he willtell them what he told me, and more. It is a hard world, Juxon."

  "And always was, and always will be. Legislation is a coarse thing:some innocent will always suffer with the guilty."

  "The guilty! is liberty of conscience guilt? Look you, Master Juxon,there are good men and true ready to stand up for that liberty."

  "And for a little more, perhaps: your secret is out; so, instead ofour sword-play being mere exercise for pastime, after college fashion,I have been teaching the noble science of defence to a stoutParliamentarian, to an enemy of mother church."

  "Nay; no enemy to any persons or any institutions, but to theoppressor every where, and to oppression every where, by whatevertitles or names they may be disguised."

  "You confess, then, that you wish an appeal to the sword."

  "I say not so; but if it come, as it may, and as in my presentjudgment it surely will, I shall be well pleased that my fingers havebeen taught to fight; for I would not be wanting in the day ofbattle."

  "I have heard you, Cuthbert, speak words of Christ's religion sinceyour late illness, which I have thought of so sweet and heavenly atemper, as might well engage all men to follow the truth in love.Surely the weapons of a Christian's warfare are not carnal."

  "I tell you, the fat heart of the oppressor is proof against allother, and they that govern with the headsman's axe must look to bewounded by the patriot's sword."

  "Stop, Cuthbert, we'll say no more on this subject--you are standingupon a precipice--the gulf beneath is treason."

  "Not against Heaven, Juxon; and it is a poor thing to me to be judgedby my fellow man."

  "Yes, Cuthbert, against Heaven. Your father will say so."

  "Never; though it is true that my father is old and timid, and hewould bear the errors of the crown in charity and in hope, rather thansee them openly opposed by arms."

  "And you would punish them in the field of battle?"

  "And gain a victory over the crown for the greater honour and moregolden purity of the crown itself!"

  "Are you so weak, Cuthbert, as to think that a crown, beaten from aking's head by the sword, and lying soiled by the dust of a fall, canever be replaced on the same brows with honour?--No! but among thesuccessful rebels, some stern spirit would be found to wipe it and putit on; whose sceptre would have no peaceful globe surmounted by adove; but would rather be a naked sword crimsoned to the hilt withblood."

  "Never, never:--you, like many good and generous persons, are thecreature of prejudice and of circumstance; you do not see, and youwill not believe, that the temple of true freedom needs only to beopened, and all the virtuous and the holy will flock there to worshipin peace, and they will guard it alike from the rude tyrant and fromthe slavish rabble."

  "Cuthbert, you dream, and will awake some day in bitterness of soul.But if these be your sentiments--if thoughts like these fill your mindand colour your gloomy fancies--no wonder that your looks are sad."

  "My fancies are not gloomy. They are solemn. I am not sad, but I amserious. In visions of the night, I have seen this earthregenerate--its people walking in peace--holiness on the bells of thehorses. I have heard the voice of thanksgiving and the song of praise.I have listened for sighs, and looked for tears, but there were none.I have asked about their happiness, and they have told me, 'In thisregion there is no one to hurt or to destroy:--we do not teach everyman his neighbour, for from the least to the greatest we all knowGod.' Such have been my revelations; and I have been called, andchosen by name, to join that sacred band, which is to awaken aslumbering and captive people, and lead them forward to prepare theway for that monarchy of truth and universal love which is even nowabout to descend and bless mankind. The spear shall be broken, thesword turned into a ploughshare, and the sovereign Lord of all shallstand a second time upon the earth, and proclaim his promised reign ofholiness and peace."

  Juxon listened to this rhapsod
y with awe and pain; and not without aneffort to shake the strong delusion, which was evidently taking a fasthold upon the mind of Cuthbert.

  "My dear friend," he said, laying his hand gently upon his arm, "Iconfess that you greatly alarm me. Consider that, for the first twomonths after your wound, you were very weak in body; you were oftenobliged to have recourse to opiates to procure rest; and you was notin a state to examine the impressions made on your mind, and toseparate illusion from reality. There is nothing wonderful in thesephantasma having floated past your mind's eye: it is with sounds aswith sights; the music of a dream is often clear and ravishing to themind's ear; and our name may be thus, to our sleeping fancy, verydistinctly called and connected with some message or charge of solemnimport spoken as by a voice from Heaven. Or, it may be, Cuthbert, thatthe enemy of your soul, knowing that you can only be led aside fromthe path of duty and peace by the fair semblance of true religion andfreedom, hath assumed these angel shapes to lure you to your ruin.

  "I can understand the plain and manly language of a Hampden, but thisI cannot. It is unhealthy; it is the false fire of the fanatic. Rouseyour intellect, and turn away from these notions, or you will beentangled and overcome: strangle the serpent while you have strengthto do so."

  Cuthbert replied only by the grave smile of one so firmly persuadedof the truth of his own convictions as rather to pity than resent thevery unwelcome effort to disturb them. However, he now communicated toJuxon that, in another month (it being then the end of September), heshould accompany his pupil to enter at Oxford, and should there leavehim, and proceed himself to join a friend in London. This arrangement,he observed, would enable him to reach the capital about the time whenthe new parliament was to assemble; for it had been just resolved bythe King, in his great council of peers held at York, that aparliament should be called to sit on the third of November following.

  George Juxon was truly concerned to find that Cuthbert was so far gonein his views, that to reclaim him seemed hopeless; but there were somany amiable and engaging points in his character, that he could notallow any one chance of recovering him from a course which he trulythought would distress his father and destroy his own peace of mind,altogether neglected.

  He was aware that Cuthbert maintained a scrupulous silence on thesubjects on which he had just spoken in his intercourse with thefamily; but he had often observed that, whatever was the matter ofdiscourse at table, or elsewhere, the opinion of Mistress Katharinehad great weight with him. He determined, therefore, to make a fulldisclosure to her of the state of Cuthbert's mind, and to engage hergood offices to dissipate, if possible, the cloud of illusions whichobscured or dazzled his present judgment. He was, however, obliged todefer this step by the sudden arrival of Sophia and Jane Lambert; thelatter of whom instantly joined Sir Oliver and the ladies in thegallery, to communicate the arrival of their brother at the Grange,and his intention of again presenting himself at Milverton thatevening, to express his sorrow to Sir Oliver for what had passed inthe spring, and to acknowledge duly the frank and Christianforgiveness of Cuthbert Noble.

  Juxon learned from Sophia Lambert that Sir Charles having met with SirPhilip Arundel at some place of public amusement, had demandedsatisfaction of him for the insulting words which Sir Philip hadaddressed to him on the evening when they last parted at Milverton;that they had retired to an adjoining tavern with their friends; andSir Philip having been wounded, the quarrel was amicably adjusted, andthe parties shook hands.

  By this duel, Sir Charles at once succeeded in stopping the mouth ofone who would have reported the occurrence at Milverton more to hisdisadvantage and shame than it was yet considered among his Londonacquaintance, and knew that he should in some degree recover his lostground with Sir Oliver and his neighbours in Warwickshire. For thecredit of their family the sisters were naturally desirous of this;and, therefore, they had preceded their brother with cheerfulness, andwith an earnest anxiety to secure him a good reception. Jane, indeed,well knew the feelings of Katharine Heywood, and loved her happinessfar before that of Sir Charles; but still he was a brother, and thehead of their house; and though she secretly determined to divert hisattentions and his hopes from Katharine, she wished that the twofamilies should resume their old footing of neighbourhood andfrequent intercourse.

  The various projects devised by the kind heart of Jane Lambert werealways most readily aided by an acute and contriving mind.

  She had already rendered Katharine a most important service in thematter of George Juxon's suit, which she had put an end to before anydeclaration of it distressing to the fair and noble object of it hadbeen made.

  The modesty, the good sense, and the manliness of Juxon, enabled him,with very little assistance from the delicate though playfulmanagement of Jane Lambert, to discern the painful truth. He plainlysaw that Katharine Heywood was not at all disposed to favour, or evenentertain, his pretensions as a lover; and he made a worthy andsuccessful effort to stifle in his breast the sentiment, which she hadinspired, that he might still enjoy the privilege of visiting atMilverton as an intimate, and might attain to the happy and soothingdistinction of being her true and faithful friend:--this consolationwas already granted to his manly heart. Katharine saw and valued hissterling qualities; and to no one in the whole circle of heracquaintance were her manners more open, cordial, and confiding thanto George Juxon.

  It was a curious thing, that evening, to see with what a shy,embarrassed air the noble Cuthbert, noble even in his errors, receivedthe silken, though forced and momentary, submission of the man, whosesavage anger had well nigh deprived him of life. No looker on,ignorant of their peculiar relation to each other, at the firstinterview, could have remotely guessed it from the manner or bearingof either.

  The cheek of Sir Charles was indeed coloured by a deep, thoughtransient, stain of crimson, as he made his obeisance to MistressKatharine, and took her slowly extended hand,--but with Sir Oliver hewas quite at his ease immediately; not so, however, with Juxon, whosepresence a little disconcerted him throughout the evening.

  As the weather was, for the season, very open and mild, and as therewas a fine moon, it was soon arranged by Sir Oliver, that the partyfrom the Grange should sup at Milverton, and ride home by moonlight.To Sir Oliver the reconciliation was most satisfactory; and as he sawCuthbert sitting at the table, as strong and healthy as before themisfortune, and as he considered the name of Sir Charles completelywhite-washed in society, by his duel with Sir Philip Arundel, hedismissed all further thought about the ferocious crime which hecommitted. It was now passed without the sad consequences which mighthave followed--it was forgiven--it was already dwindling into veryinsignificant proportions--and was soon to be altogether forgotten.

  After the pleasant customs of that time, when supper was ended, themusic books were introduced--the viol and lute were brought;--and anhour, or more, was delightfully spent to the health and refreshment ofmind and body, in that familiar concert, where each person wasexpected to sing the appointed part at first sight. Among thepermitted pleasures of our existence, those derived from the gift ofsweet sounds, and from the divine art of musical composition, may beclassed among the purest and most refined.

  They sung a few of the best madrigals of Orlando Gibbons, and Bird'srich harmony--"My Mind to me a Kingdom is;"--and they closed with aflowing glee for five voices, from Gibbons, entitled "The SilverSwan." The summer parlour in which they sung had been found so warmthat the casements were half open, and the moonlight streamed in,scarcely overpowered by the lamp, which stood upon the table, and butdimly illuminated the oaken wainscot and ceiling. Except a whisperedword, to the one sitting next, on the richness of Bird's harmonies, oron the delicate and sweet style of Orlando Gibbons, a long and silentpause followed the evening's performance, and they seemed to beenjoying again in memory what they had just made vocal. Suddenly therestole upon them from among the trees, at a short distance, a simpleand soft melody of a most tender expression. It was the music of apipe or reed, but such as none of the
party had ever heard before. Thetones were various,--now full and clear; now faint and exquisite; nowdied away into a charmed stillness; now, again, they were heard slow,chaste, and solemn, as if the burden of the air were some sacred hymn.At last, after ravishing the ears of the astonished party, who stoodat the window, or leaned upon their chairs with mute attention, bybreathing forth airs of strange harmony, which none could distinctlyrecognise, the invisible minstrel closed the magical prelude, inheavenly and melancholy notes of surpassing sweetness, with thefavourite air of "Now, O now," by the famous Dowland, the well knownfriend of the immortal William Shakspeare. Not one of the partyobserved the sudden paleness and deep agitation of Katharine, whilethe sweet notes of this beautiful air were sounding in their ravishedears. All were silent, and most of them absorbed in still attention;and Katharine sat back in the shadow of the apartment, so that hercountenance was hid.

  "Methinks it is a spirit," said Jane Lambert, with a smile.

  "Nay, if it be," observed Mistress Alice, "it is a good one, and hasbeen gently bred.--I am sure I felt quite sorry when the last airceased; and as for poor Master Cuthbert, I never saw any man soaffected by music before.--Do you not observe it, Katharine?"

  "I cannot wonder, because I know that Dowland is a great favouritewith him; and that air, played as it was, might affect a person lesseasily moved than Master Cuthbert."

  "Well, Kate," said Sir Oliver, "after all, it is but some pipingstroller, perhaps, that is trudging it to Coventry fair; but, whatwith moonshine and fancy, you are making an Orpheus of thevagabond,--and I dare to say he would be well pleased to pipe a goodfat hen out of the fowl house."

  "Really, Sir Oliver," said Jane Lambert, "you old gentlemen are veryprovoking:--you have a way of knocking down all castles in the airwith a crab-stick; and if we do now and then get lifted off plainground, you bring us down again with a vengeance. Now, even I, who amnot very romantic, was painting to myself some disconsolate bard ofnoble presence, wandering about in sad banishment from the lady ofhis love, and solacing his despair with the melody of this pipe, givenhim, I am sure, by a magician."

  "Whoever he is," said Juxon, who with young Arthur had leaped from thewindow and ran to the wood, coming to the open casement a few minutesafter, "he has certainly got the ring of Gyges; for there is not manor animal in that open beechery; and if any one had run forth we musthave seen them in the close behind."

  "It may be, Juxon, he is perched in a tree, like your truenightingale," said Sir Oliver.

  "Nay, we looked up into the branches carefully, but could discernnothing: the birds at roost, though, had raised their heads frombeneath their wings, to listen to the strange chorister. In faith, heis no common shepherd in clouted shoon, but a rare minstrel, such aspoets feign Apollo. Hush! listen again."

  Again, after a playful prelude, the invisible musician performed thesweet air to which the song of Ariel in the Tempest was always sung.

  "Marry, Master Juxon," said Jane, "the precious songster mocks yourpains, and gives you fair challenge to renew your hunt; but I thinkyou might gather the night dew till cock-crow before you would findhim."

  Every one seemed spell-bound till the air was done, and Jane Lambertspoke; but Juxon and Arthur now ran again to the beechery, and in afew minutes returned without better success than before.

  "Well," said Jane Lambert, "we shall soon find out who it is that thisdainty spirit is come to honour; for if it be Sophy or me, we shallhave him flying with us on a bat's back all the way to the Grange; andif it be you, dear Kate, you will have more music than sleepto-night."

  Katharine was spared all reply by Sir Oliver gravely saying, "that heremembered when he was a boy that beechery was said to be haunted, andthat whenever the white lady appeared it boded evil to the family atMilverton." This old Philip had already mentioned to the servants, whostood grouped at the gate of the court-yard on the right, but none ofwhom had dared to venture down to the spot whence the music came,though they had seen all which passed.

  Master Cuthbert ventured to observe, that the music was not like thewailing of a ghost, which came as a forerunner of grief; nor was it ofsuch solemnity, that a spirit from heaven could take delight in it:and he doubted not that the minstrel was plain flesh and blood; thathe had, probably, been arrested by the sounds of their little concert,had amused himself by responding to them with his own pleasantinstrument, and had practised cleverly upon their curiosity by thenimbleness with which he had evaded their search. But Sir Oliver shookhis head at this natural explanation of the mystery; and the Lambertsand Juxon, after putting their lips to a stirrup cup of spiced wine,took leave of their host, and the trampling of their horses soon diedaway in the distance.