The Chaplain of the Fleet

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER VI.

  HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY.

  The next morning at dinner, we heard the summons of the post-boy'shorn, and Cicely presently ran in with a letter in her hand. It wasaddressed to me, in a large bold handwriting, and was sealed with redwax. I opened it and found a smaller letter inside it, marked "Private.For my niece's eye alone." So that both letters were from my uncle, theDoctor.

  "Your private letter," said Mrs. Esther, "doubtless contains someadmonition or advice designed for you alone. Put it in your pocket,child, and read it in your own room. As for the other letter, as it isnot marked private, it would be well for you to read it aloud, afterdinner, and while we are eating one of my Lord Chudleigh's deliciouspeaches."

  To this I willingly complied, because I greatly feared the privateletter would contain some instructions concerning the secret which theDoctor and I possessed between us. Accordingly, the dinner over, Ibegan the perusal of my uncle's letter.

  "MY DEAR NIECE,--You will first of all, and before reading any further, convey my dutiful respects to the lady by whose goodness you have been placed in a position as much above what you could have wished, as her benevolence is above the ordinary experience of mortals."

  "Oh, the excellent man!" cried Mrs. Esther.

  "I have to report that, under Providence, I am well in health, and in all respects doing well; the occupation in which I am now engaged having received a stimulus by the threatening of a new Act for the prevention of (so-called) unlawful marriages. The increase in the number of applicants for marriage hath also (as is natural) caused an increase in the upstarts and pretenders who claim to have received canonical orders, being most of them as ignorant as a butcher's block, and no more ordained than the fellows who bang a cushion in a conventicle. The clergymen of London complain that the parsons of the Fleet take away their parishioners, and deprive them of their fees: they cannot say that I, who never take less than a guinea, undersell them. You will be glad to learn that Sir Miles Lackington hath left this place. He hath lately received a legacy from a cousin of a small estate, and hath made an arrangement with his creditors, by virtue of which his detainers are now removed. Nevertheless, we expect him back before long, being well assured that the same temptation and vice of gambling, which brought him here before, will again beset him. Yet he promiseth brave things. We gave him a farewell evening, in which his health was toasted, and more punch drunk than was good for the heads of some present, among whom were gentlemen members of the Utter Bar, from the two Temples and Lincoln's Inn, with many others, and honourable company.

  "It will also be a pleasure to you to learn that the ingenious Mr. Stallabras is also at large. Probably he, too, will return to us ere long. For the present his sole detaining creditor, who had supplied him for years with such articles of apparel (at second-hand) as were necessary for his decent appearance on the credit of his future glory, agreed to take ten guineas in full discharge of a bill for forty, which the poet could never hope to pay, nor the tradesman to receive. The calling of poet is at best but a poor one, nor should I counsel any one to practise the writing of verse unless he be a man of fortune, like Mr. Alexander Pope (unfortunately a Papist), or a Fellow of some substantial college, such as the Houses of Trinity, Peter, and Christ, at Cambridge, like Mr. Ray. Nor is there any greater unhappiness than to draw a bill, to speak after the manner of merchants, upon your future success and industry, and to be compelled to discount it. He hath now conceived the idea of a tragedy and of an epic poem. The first he will endeavour to produce at Drury Lane as soon as it is written: the second he will immediately get subscribed among his friends and patrons. Unfortunately he has already obtained subscriptions, for a volume of verses, and, having eaten the subscriptions, cannot now find a publisher: in truth, I believe the verses are not yet written. This melancholy accident obliges him to seek for new patrons. I wish him well.

  "It is, my dear niece, with the greatest satisfaction that I learn you have, with Mrs. Esther, gone to Epsom. The situation of the place, the purity of the air upon the Downs, the salubrity of the waters, the gaiety of the company, will, I hope, all be conducive to the health of that most excellent lady, your best friend----"

  "Oh, the good man!" cried Mrs. Esther.

  "To whom I charge you be dutiful, obedient, and careful in the smallest punctilio. The cheerfulness of the amusements (if Epsom be the same as when I once visited it, when tutor to a young gentleman of quality) should communicate to her spirits something of the joy with which I could now wish her to regard the world. As for yourself, my child, I am under no apprehension but that music, gay companions, and your time of life will together make you as mirthful as is possible for human being. Remember, however, that happiness is but for a season: that mirth must never pass beyond the bound of good manners: and that when a woman is no longer young, the reputation she has earned as a girl remains with her, even to the grave. Wherefore, Kitty, be circumspect. The town news is but little: the (so-styled) young Pretender is said to be moving again, but little importance is now attached to his doings, and for the moment the Protestant dynasty seems firm. But Heaven knows----"

  Here followed a quantity of news about the ministers, the Houses ofParliament, the foreign news, and so forth, which I omit.

  "I have seen a sermon, published this year by one Laurence Sterne, on 'Conscience,' which I would commend to Mrs. Pimpernel. I also commend to you Dr. Samuel Johnson's 'Vanity of Human Wishes,' and the first number of the 'Rambler,' of which I hear great things. Mr. Henry Fielding hath produced a novel called 'Tom Jones,' of which the town is talking. I mention it here in order that you may be cautioned against a book whose sole merit is the faithful delineation of scenes and characters shocking to the female moralist. For the same reason I would have thee beware of Mr. Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle,' in which, as a man who knows--alas! the wickedness of the world, I find a great deal to commend.

  "The weather has been strangely hot even for July, and fever is rife in this neighbourhood. I hear that the Bishop of London threatens me with pains and penalties. I have sent word to his lordship, that if he will not allow me to marry, I will _bury_, and that at such prices as will leave his clergy nothing but the fees of the paupers, beggars, and malefactors.

  "I think that I have no more news to send. I would that I were able to send thee such tidings as might be looked for in a London letter; but I know not what actor is carrying away all hearts, nor what lady is the reigning toast, nor what is the latest fashion in cardinal, sack, patch, or tie-wig, nor anything at all that is dear to the hearts of an assembly on the Terrace of Epsom. Therefore, with my duty to Mrs. Pimpernel,--I remain, my dear niece, your loving uncle,

  "GREGORY SHOVEL, _Doctor of Divinity_.

  "_Post Scriptum._--I enclose herewith a short letter of admonition, which thou mayest read by thyself, as such things are not interesting to Mistress Pimpernel."

  "Now," cried Mrs. Esther, "was there ever such a man? Living in sucha place, he preserves his virtue: among such dregs and offscouringsof mankind he stands still erect, proclaiming and preaching Christianvirtue. O Kitty! why was not that man made a bishop? Sure, there is noother position in the world fit for him. With what eloquence would hedefend Christian faith? With what righteous indignation would he notexpel evil-doers?"

  I did not dare to ask, which of course occurred to me, what indignationhe would show against such as violated the law by marrying in the Fleet.

  "Now," I said, "with your permission, madam, I will retire, in order toread my uncle's private letter of admonition."

  I opened the short note in fear; yet there was nothing alarming in it.

  "MY DEAR NIECE,--I add a word to s
ay that Lord Chudleigh is going to visit Epsom, and hath either engaged or been offered the mansion of Durdans for the summer: perhaps he is already there. It may be that you will make his acquaintance: in any case you cannot fail of being interested in his doings. Since his visit to the Fleet, I hear that he has been afflicted with a continual melancholy, of which you and I know the cause. He has also led a very regular and almost monastic life, reproaching himself continually for that lapse from temperance which led to what he regards as the curse of his life.

  "Child, if he pays you attentions, receive them with such coquettish allurements as your sex knows how to hang out. On this point I cannot advise. But if he is attracted by more showy and more beautiful women"--I looked at the glass and smiled--"then be careful not to exhibit any jealousy or anger. Remember that jealousy and anger have ruined many a _femina furens_, or raging woman. Let things go on, as if nothing of all that you and I wot of had happened. He will be watched, and at the right time will be called upon to acknowledge his wife. Such a return for the evil done me by his father shall be mine. And with such a return of good for evil, a brilliant position for yourself. If he should fall in love, if he hath not already done so, with another woman, you would, in one moment, blast his hopes, trample on all that he held dear, and make him ridiculous, a criminal, and a deceiver. But it is at all times a more Christian thing for a man to fall in love with his own wife.

  "Remember, my dear Kitty, I place the utmost reliance on thy good sense. Above all, no woman's jealousies, rages, and fits of madness. These things will only do thee harm.

  "Your loving uncle, "GREGORY SHOVEL, _Doctor of Divinity_."

  Were one a stock or a stone; had one no feelings; were one destitute ofpity, sympathy, and compassion, these letters might have been useful asguides to conduct. But the thing had happened to me which my uncle, inhis worldly wisdom, could never calculate upon: I had fallen in lovewith Lord Chudleigh: I was passionately anxious that he should fall inlove with me. What room, in such a condition of mind as was this man,for advice so cold, so interested as this? Return good for evil? Whathad I to do with that? I wanted to wreak no vengeance on my lord: Iwould have surrounded him with love, and been willing to become hisservant, his slave, anything, if only he would forgive me, take mefor his sweetheart, and make me his wife. But to lay those snares: tolook on coldly while he made love to other women: to wait my time, soas to bring shame and remorse upon that noble heart--that, Kitty, wasimpossible. Yet I could not write to my uncle things which he couldnot understand. I could not say that I repented and was very sorry:that I loved my lord, and was determined to inflict no harm upon him:and that, if he chose to fall in love with another woman--who was I,indeed, that he should love me?--I was firmly resolved that no actor word of mine should injure him, even though I had to stand in thechurch and see him with my own eyes married to that other--that happywoman--before the altar.