by Mrs. West
CHAP. XXVII.
Tho' with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part; the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance.
Shakspeare.
While the levellers and republicans alternately gained the ascendancy,and Monk, either from irresolution or profound policy, appeared tofavour every party but that which he eventually espoused, long suspencequenched the hopes of the Loyalists, and their prospect of golden daysseemed enveloped by the gloom of despair, when all at once the Generalrapidly measured back his steps. That mighty Parliament which, asdifferent parties prevailed in it, countenanced the most rigorouscoercion or permitted the wildest anarchy; which opposed, menaced,conquered, deceived, and murdered the King by whom it was summoned;which feebly attempted to resist the power of its own creature,Cromwell; and, after passively dispersing at his frown, re-assembled toinsult his memory, threaten the fanatics, and denounce monarchy; thatstrange combination of talent and extravagance, of praying demagoguesand aspiring religionists; deemed by Europe the soul of Englishrebellion, and the voice of the nation by whom it was at once feared,hated, and ridiculed; that representative body which voted its ownperpetuity, and overthrew the constitution it was called tomaintain--died at last by its own vote, amid universal execrations, andjoyous anticipations of better times. A Parliament was called, which,being really chosen by the nation, hastened to give utterance to thenational feeling. The prison-doors were thrown open to the Loyalists,their persecutors fled dismayed. Many who had sinned less deeply,hurried to the King with supererogatory offers of service. The ambitiousand the vain busied themselves in devices to give splendor to therestoration which, from the awful circumstance of a penitent peoplewelcoming back their exiled Monarch, could borrow no lustre fromostentatious pageants. Love, confidence, liberty, and security, seemedto revive; malice, suspicion, and guile, vanished with the dark tyrannythey had so long supported. The aspect, manners, and dress of Englishmenresumed their former appearance. The lengthened visage; the rayless, yetpenetrating eye; the measured smile, which expressed neither affectionnor candour, disappeared. The countenance was again permitted to be anindex to the soul, and the tongue uttered the undisguised feelings ofartless sincerity; joy, magnified to ecstasy; freedom bursting thetrammels of oppression; sorrow changed to festivity; want expatiating onthe near prospect of affluence; justice restored to the full exercise ofher balance and sword; religion separated from fanaticism, andreinstated in decent splendor; a hereditary King, a regular government,ancient institutions, definite laws, certain privileges, personalsafety, and the restitution of property--such were the glorious themeswhich employed the thoughts of the contemplative, elevated the devotionof the pious, and made the unreflecting multitude frantic with wilddelight. No period of English history records so great a change. Thespring of 1660 was devoted to universal jubilee; with the vulgar it wasdisaffection to be sober, and among the higher classes gravity wastreason.
Though the prisons were thrown open, the Beaumont family still lingerednear the abode wherein they had been so long inhumed. A freecommunication was renewed with foreign countries; private intercoursewas safe; exiles were every hour returning; but they heard nothing oftheir beloved fugitives. Dr. Beaumont waited with the patience of a man,who had endured years of sorrow. The debilitated Neville feared his lastsands would run out before he could embrace his son. Isabel andConstantia had fears which they durst not disclose, even to each other.Were both their lovers enamoured of the merchant's daughter, or had somecontinental Circe also spread her fascinations, and made the recreantsforget their fathers and their country, as well as their mistresses?Surely, in that case Dr. Lloyd would have sent some qualified account oftheir temptation and fall. Had they all perished in some tremendousundertaking; had a pestilence swept them away; had they fallen into thehands of banditti, or perished silently, ensnared by the still moremerciless machinations of regicide-informers? There was no form in whichdanger and death could appear, that did not present itself to thealarmed mind of these long-suffering maidens, during the few weeks thatintervened between the time that a Loyalist could appear in Englandwithout imminent hazard, and their receiving the intelligence whichdispelled every doubt. A day seemed an age to exhausted patience, andthe transports of others added to their sadness.
Isabel was at length informed, that a stranger inquired for her. Herbosom throbbed violently--"Is he young or old?" was all she could utter."Middle aged," was the reply. "Alas!" said she, "I forget how rapidlytime has stolen on since I parted with De Vallance. I have not looked atmy face for years; 'tis changed, I am sure; I have lost everyattraction, but my heart is still the same."--"Ever the same goodheart!" repeated Eustace, as he rushed in, and caught her in hisaffectionate arms. "O! tell me, Isabel, where is my Constantia?" "Speak,low," said Isabel, attempting to smother a hysterical laugh. "DearEustace, how you are altered! Do not enter that room, the shock will betoo great!"
The terrors of Eustace prompted a thousand inquiries.--"Was Constantiawell? Was she faithful?" "Yes, yes!" replied Isabel, struggling in vainfor composure; "but----" a thousand fears lurked in that word, and Eustacegazed in mute horror, while Isabel recovered self-command enough to say,"We are very much altered." Eustace shed tears of joy.--"Virtue andfidelity are always young and lovely," said he.--"You should not havetaken me by surprise," resumed the much-agitated Isabel; "let merecollect myself a moment, and then you shall see our long-sufferingfather, and your ever-beloved Constance."
Her eyes were turned to the door at which Eustace entered, with anunacknowledged expectation of another visitant, and she stood incapableof the promised introduction. But the well-remembered, long-desiredvoice of Eustace had penetrated the inner-chamber, and Constantia, paleand silent, advanced to meet her betrothed love; held out her hand withtimid joy, and sunk speechless into his arms. "My boy! my boy! let mefold thee to my heart, and expire in thy embraces!" exclaimed theagonized Neville, as with ineffectual efforts he strove to rise from thecouch of infirmity. Eustace cast himself at his feet. "Your blessing,"said he, "on one who is no disgrace to your blood. Dearest father, yourcommands have been obeyed; I have redeemed my honour, and my life ispreserved to this hour of transport."
"The choicest blessings of all-gracious Providence rest on thy head, andon that of thy faithful partner;" said Neville, for Constance hadinvoluntarily knelt by the side of her lover; "and may your future daysbe crowned with prosperity and peace! True heir of the Neville virtues,and now of their honours!" He closed his eyes, and continued to presshis hands on their heads with a patriarch's fervour--then, as ifrecalling his thoughts to this lower world, inquired of Eustace if hehad seen the King.
"I have seen and served him," answered Eustace. "He is well, amiable,royally-disposed, and, at this moment, embarking on board his own fleetto receive the crown of his ancestors; determined to forget his enemies,and reward his friends."
"Thou wilt kill me with joy," said the transported veteran; "but I amnow content to die. Eustace, thou shalt never leave me more; I can neverbe satiated with hearing the sound of thy voice, or gazing on thee thusrising from disgrace and death. Come, tell me all thou hast enduredsince we parted." Eustace seated himself beside him on the couch, onearm clasped his Constantia, the other reclined on his father's knees.Neville rested his arms and head on his crutch, devouring with his eyeshis son's features, and jealous of the glances he frequently cast on hisbeloved. Dr. Beaumont stood at a little distance, gazing on theaffectionate group with calm delight, and frequently diverting histhoughts in pious thankfulness to that gracious Providence, who thusrichly repaid their sorrows. Isabel threw herself at the feet ofEustace, half angry that she could engage no more of his attention, andlistening to the narrative of his adventures with emotions which it isimpossible to define.
Eustace was brief in his story, reserving the minutiae for a calmermoment. The increased vigilance of the republican government soon madeJersey an
unsafe residence. They removed to the continent; travelledthrough France, Italy, and the Low-Countries, without finding anyeligible place wherein to fix. At length their funds failing, theyagreed to prefer an humble employment to yet more degrading dependence.Dr. Lloyd served as assistant surgeon in the Dutch military hospital;and Eustace entered as a volunteer in the body-guard of the young Princeof Orange, consoled by the idea of devoting his life to the grandson ofhis murdered sovereign. Here he frequently saw and conversed with thepresent King, whose affable and attractive manners he warmly praised."He recognised me," said he, "as the son of one to whom he owedindelible obligations, and his condescension commanded my confidence. Heknows, dearest father, your early wrongs; and so sure as the crown ofEngland is placed on his head, he will restore to you your titles andestates free from every base condition, and subject to no tribute, butwhat every English peer owes to a gracious and generous Monarch."
"There," thought Isabel, "my predictions are true--Constance will wearher ermined robes of state--but where is the cheerful residence ofelegant sufficiency, in which I was to sing to my De Vallance? Eustaceonly speaks of his own adventures. Oh, this merchant's daughter of St.Helier; I wish she had been locked up in a nunnery. Doubtless, she isyoung and beautiful; but prosperity is a becoming ornament. I will takecourage, and ask if they are very happy."
Isabel, after hemming several times, attempted to speak, and at last wasable to say, "My dear brother!" Eustace turned his eyes upon her. Hisexcessive transports had sufficiently subsided to allow him to enterinto her feelings, and he affectionately answered, "What would my dearsister?"
"You had another companion," said she, "besides Dr. Lloyd."
"I will punish this prudery," thought Eustace. "True, my love; poorFido.--It is kind in you to remember that faithful animal. He died onhis travels, and I assure you I dropped a tear on his grave."
"Pshaw," cried Isabel, turning away her head.
"He lies in a celebrated spot," continued Eustace, "close to the wallsof the convent of St. Bernard on the Alps; and thereby hangs a dreadfultale."
"We will listen to no dreadful tales now," said Constance, who felt bysympathy the untold sentiments of Isabel. "Tell us what is become of DeVallance, provoking Eustace; I see by your smile all is well. Willnothing cure you of your love of teazing us?"
"When ladies forget the names of their lovers," replied Eustace,"delicacy forbids us to interpret their inquiries. De Vallance is well;he came with me to England; but, Isabel, you must yield him to strongerclaims."
"I guessed so," answered she; "and will resign him with fortitude; nay,with indifference." Tears, it is presumed, are a sign of thesesensations, for her's flowed rapidly as she spoke. "Consider, my belovedsister," returned Eustace; "the glorious event which reinstates you inthe rank and fortune of an Earl's daughter renders De Vallance the sonof a disgraced usurper, despoiled of his ill-acquired splendor, and heirto nothing save the infamy of his parents."
"I had prepared my mind," said Isabel, "for every thing, but his beingfaithless to his vows. Had he been constant, I would have shared his lothowever humble, and told the world his superior virtues cancelled thetreasons and the treachery of his parents. But if beauty and affluencehave proved irresistible, let me remember that my fortunes seemeddesperate, allow the force of the temptation, and forgive him."
"There spoke my own magnanimous sister," exclaimed Eustace, folding herto his heart. "Thou worthy choice of my best and dearest friend! awretched father is the stronger claim which detains him from thee. He isgone to carry comfort to the most pitiable object in the world, analarmed, deserted sinner."
"I never will forgive you, Eustace, for thus torturing me," said Isabel,and while she spoke, encircled his neck with her arms. "Was there notruth in the tale of an enamoured lady of St. Helier?" Eustace blushed,called it a gossip's story, and threw his eyes on Constance, dearer andmore attractive in her faded loveliness, than when in the happy prime ofyouthful beauty she first enslaved his affectionate heart.
Neville sat thoughtful and silent, gazing on his children with thepainful exhaustion of overstrained sensibility. Isabel and Eustaceseemed emulous to out-talk each other. Constantia looked unutterablecontent. Dr. Beaumont was mild, devout, admonitory; more inclined tobless the sure mercies of Providence, than to condemn the perverseconduct of man. He now recollected the anxieties of his good sisterMellicent, and proposed that Williams should be dispatched with thejoyful tidings. "She must be told," said Eustace, "that the air-builtcastles she was so skilful in erecting have now a firm foundation. 'Tistime she should exercise her abilities in making bride-cake and comfits;two happy pairs will soon claim her services." "Nay," said Isabel, "asyou are in a marrying humour, there shall be three, for who but she canreward good Dr. Lloyd, without whose vigilance and generosity we shouldall have been the most pitiable of mourners, wretched at the time ofuniversal joy?"
Eustace answered that the worthy Esculapius was returning in the King'ssuite, being appointed one of his physicians, and he hinted theprobability of his aunt's medical pre-eminence destroying the effect ofher personal attractions. "At least," said he, "the Doctor has neverintimated a wish for the alliance, though he speaks with admiration ofher fortitude and maternal affection for us children of her love andcare. And severely as you accuse me for want of gallantry to your sex, Iwill not even allow a spinster of seventy to volunteer her hand, whenthe honour is not passionately desired."
Dr. Beaumont now inquired what dreadful tale was connected with theconvent of St. Bernard, and he soon found his own predictions wererealized respecting the fate of those who seek security by the paths ofcrooked policy and selfish cunning. Those dreary walls inclosed thewretched heir of the Waverly family. Overwhelmed with horror at havingdeprived his father of life, the unhappy man abjured a country whosecivil wars had given birth to such tremendous crimes. Long the victim ofdespair, he at last sought a quietus to his ever-gnawing remorse, byflying to the bosom of that church which barters salvation for pecuniarymulcts, and represents penance and subserviency to its schemes ofworldly aggrandisement to be the wings which will waft the soul over thegulph of purgatory, and securely lodge it in Abraham's bosom. Notcontent with becoming a convert to the Romish church, the young Baronetdetermined upon expiating his unintentional parricide, by taking thecowl, and entering into its strictest order of monachism. Eustace andhis friends, when they travelled over the Alps, were lodged one night atthis convent, and in the midnight service De Vallance recognized thewell-remembered tones of his powerful voice. They afterwards saw him inthe garden labouring at his future grave, according to the prescribedrules of his order. His hood was fallen off, and gave to view his face,in which the deepest lines of sorrow were combined with the gloom ofsullen superstition. All intercourse was forbidden by that law whichchained his tongue to eternal silence, except when employed as the organof devotion. Eustace wept with true commiseration; the unhappy monkthrew on him a look, which showed he too well remembered England, drewhis cowl over his face, and with a groan of the deepest melancholysolemnly returned to his cell.
Dr. Beaumont's remarks on this narrative were pious and affecting; butthere was a heavy gloom in the eye of Neville, which indicated a mindtoo much absorbed by its own feelings to enjoy the badinage of happylovers, or to listen to the suggestions of wisdom and devotion. "Is ourdear father ill?" was the alarmed inquiry of Isabel. "Has the surpriseof my return overpowered him?" said Eustace. "Will not affliction allowher victim a few years respite, before the effects of her earlyvisitations conduct him to the grave?"
It was the privilege of that true minister of Heaven who tranquillizedhis youthful impatience, to penetrate into the secret feelings of theman of sorrows. Inattentive to every other subject, Dr. Beaumontperceived that he was roused by the name of Walter De Vallance, andtherefore led Eustace to describe his present situation. The tortures ofa guilty conscience, added to his constitutional timidity, had totallyextinguished those faint beams of hope and ambition which led him, inevery previ
ous change of affairs, to project his own security oradvancement. To usurpers and mal-contents of every description hethought he might either be useful or formidable; but from the returningKing, welcomed with rapture by a repentant nation, a versatile traitor,who had betrayed the counsels of the royal martyr, could not expect evenmercy. Too well known both for his rank and his provocations, to hope toshelter in obscurity, he had no resource but to fly to some distantland; and he proposed retreating to those colonies in America which werepeopled under the influence of republican principles. But he had notproceeded many stages from London before he fell sick. His perturbedmind so far betrayed him to his host as to show he was one of those whomthe happy change in public affairs compelled to fly from England, and hewas immediately suspected to be one of the late King's judges, who,having imbrued their hands in royal blood, were, by the consent of allparties, reserved as an atonement to public justice. He was thereforeseized, hurried back to London, and thrown into close confinement. Hisson and Eustace learned these particulars by stopping at the inn whichhad been the scene of his arrest; and the former, from somecircumstances discovering the prisoner to be his father, deputed Eustaceto plead his unchanged love and ardent hopes to his dearest Isabel,while he himself hastened to protect and solace his wretched parent witha hope, that by interposing his own unquestioned loyalty as a surety, hemight preserve his life, if not obtain his liberty.
Not all the courtly blandishments of gallantry, nor even theheart-breathed vows of true love could have been half so acceptable toIsabel as this sacrifice of self-indulgence to filial duty. Even Nevillecould not refrain from commending his nephew's conduct, while brushing atear from his eye he attempted to revive the expiring flame ofvindictive indignation. "The villain, then," said he, "knows now what itis to want the service of a worthy child. Tell me, Eustace, does hesuffer deeply? Is his soul ground down with compunction by recollectingthe inhumed Neville, doomed by him and his rebel partizans to shelterwith the dead. Shut for years from the light of the sun, excluded fromhuman converse, and daily fed by that dear girl with the bread ofaffliction, though born to stand before Kings, and sit as judge amongPrinces! Walter De Vallance now suffers what I never endured. Thegnawing worm of remorse must inflict on him the agonies of despair, butconscious innocence illumined my dungeon with hope. Yes, the spirits ofmy ancestors, offended at the foul pollution of their pure ermine, pointat my son as the restorer of their tarnished honours, and bid me exultin the agonies which await the death-bed of a villain!"
A look of grave rebuke from Dr. Beaumont recalled the much-agitatedNeville from this delirium of indulged malevolence. "My brother and myfriend," he exclaimed; "supporter of my frail existence, and guide of mysoul! I have sinned, pray for me." "May Almighty mercy," replied thepious minister of Heaven, "grant you that peace which only those canfeel who are in charity with all mankind!--If years of affliction havenot so taught you the comparative worthlessness of temporal possessionsas to prevent your making them a pretext for eternal enmity; if calamityhas steeled your heart to pity instead of melting it to contrition, Imust bid you fear, lest some more terrible trials should visit you, orwhat is worse, lest the sinner who will not pardon an offending brothershould be suddenly called to account for his own unrepentedtransgressions against the God, not then of infinite compassion, but ofmost righteous vengeance."
Neville trembled violently. His affectionate children intreated Dr.Beaumont to spare his infirmities, but he answered, that regard for themortal body must not, in this instance, make him overlook the moreimportant concerns of the never-dying soul, endangered by his thuscherishing implacable resentment. The termination of the struggle provedNeville a true hero. He not only confessed but abjured his errors. "Ihave," said he, "brooded too deeply over my injuries, and thus haveadded to my plagues by inflicting on myself more torments than even myenemies designed I should feel. Born with too exquisite sensibility ofill-treatment, proceeding possibly from inordinate self-esteem, disposedto ardent attachment and unbounded confidence, I measured the hearts ofothers by my own, and supposed that they equally revered the claims ofgenerosity and friendship; for never did I expect a service, which in achange of situations, I would not have rendered unasked; never have Icondemned a fault but those so abhorrent to my nature that, I would havedied rather than have committed them. Condemned by the triumphanttreachery of a man, in all things my inferior, to indigence andobscurity; all the liberal feelings I so dearly cherished palsied by myinability to expand the social charities beyond the narrow limits of myown family, I ruminated on the glorious indulgences resulting from, thepossession of that power and affluence I was born to inherit. But,instead of enjoying the means of patronising merit, raising theoppressed, or succouring calamity, I beheld myself doomed to the anxiousroutine of a life consumed in the care of procuring a sufficiency forits own support, pondering how the claims of a creditor could bedischarged, and the disgrace of injustice averted by the sacrifice ofevery generous gratification--I passed my days in a silent sacrifice ofmy wishes and comforts, in concealing my own wants, and steeling myheart to those of others, and it was during this mental torture ofrestrained liberality that I nourished in my soul a deadly thirst forrevenge, an extreme desire of seeing the arm that smote me to the earthwithered and powerless as my own. Oh, my children! there is guilt anddanger in an excessive indulgence of even the most laudable feelings,and my crime brought on its punishment.--The loss of reason; the deathof your adored mother, deserving infinitely more than the highestearthly honours, and therefore early translated to an angelical throne;these were my chastisements. In respect to what I have since sufferedfor my King, the testimonies of a good conscience were my support and myreward. And may the favours of a grateful monarch enable my Eustace toenjoy those noblest privileges of greatness for which I pined withineffectual desire! I am now old and helpless, tottering on the brink ofeternity, a blank, as far as respects this world. May I then divest mysoul of those passions which will unfit it for the abodes of peace! Theinjuries of Walter De Vallance are not irremediable. Still do I clasp myson to my heart. Affliction has tried the virtues of my children, andbrought me to a sense of my own errors. Let not short-sighted man, whocannot see the remote consequences of events, cherish revenge. Let notdust and ashes value its imperfect shows of goodness. Our greatestconquest is a victory over ourselves. Our noblest title is to be calledobedient servants of the Most High."
Dr. Beaumont wept with pious delight, while Neville, leaning on hischildren in a posture of penitent adoration, besought Heaven to pardonhis own sins, and the sins of his brother De Vallance. So entire was hisabstraction, that he was not interrupted by the entrance of Barton,whose countenance expressed a degree of depression ill suited to thejoyous character of the times. Dr. Beaumont accosted him by the title ofhis worthy friend, and the associate of his future fortunes. Heintroduced him to Eustace, of whose preservation from the massacre atPembroke he was till then ignorant. Barton blessed the protecting handof Providence, and explained his apparent dejection, by stating that hehad just witnessed a most awful and impressive scene--a grievous sinnerwounded alike in body and in soul, with no hope of escaping punishmenteither in this world or in that which is to come. He soon discoveredthat he meant the miserable De Vallance, whom, as he had served inprosperity, he would not desert in his utmost need, though he alikedetested his private and despised his public character. He described himas alone, pennyless, comfortless, without resources in himself, or helpfrom others. His worthy son had not yet discovered the place of hisconfinement; he knew not what was become of his son, and among all thecrimes which tortured his conscience, the supposed death of Eustace wasmost insupportable. Hopeless of pity, yet desperate from remorse, he hadcommissioned Barton to intreat the greatly-injured Neville to forgivehim. Christian principles had already obtained a victory over theagonizing resentments of wounded honour, and the eloquence of Bartononly served to hasten its effect. Neville was calmly resolved, not movedby pathetic description, to act as he ought. "Go, my child," sai
d he toEustace, "bear my forgiveness to our unhappy kinsman, and by convincinghim of your own existence, foil the tempter's efforts to overwhelm himwith despair. I would see him, but we are both, weak in body, and frailin purpose. An interview might revive violent animosities. Envy andresentment are irritable passions; 'tis best we meet no more till ourmortal failings are deposited in our graves. Then may our purifiedspirits enter upon a state where avarice and ambition cannot tempt, norimpatience and anger dispose us to offend! There may we meet as pardonedsinners, alike rejoicing in redemption!--Mine shall not be a mere verbalreconciliation. My King can refuse nothing to Allan Neville, thefaithful Loyalist. Title and fortune will be restored to me as my right;but the only reward I will ask for my services shall be the pardon of myenemies. The punishment of a state-criminal must not disgrace myIsabel's nuptials. She has been to me the angel of consolation, and sheshall carry forgiveness and honour as a dower to her husband. And now,Beaumont, while the relentings of my soul can refuse nothing to thyadmonitions, tell me, is there aught more that I ought to perform?"
From one of less acute sensibility, Dr. Beaumont would possibly haverequired that he should have been the interpreter of his own purposes toDe Vallance, but he rightly considered, that very susceptible and ardentcharacters, after they have forgiven, find it impossible to forget. Whensuch persons are brought to that proper state of mind, to return goodfor evil, without either boasting of their lenity, or enumerating theirwrongs, the best way of inducing an oblivion of the past, is to avoidsuch intercourse as may revive painful retrospection. It is impossiblefor those who have minds capable of appreciating the delicacies offriendship, to re-unite the bonds of esteem and confidence, when theyhave been violently rent asunder by cunning or treachery. Beside, Bartonadmitted that he saw in the behaviour of De Vallance more of theapprehensions of timorous guilt than the renovated spirit of self-abasedcontrition.
Eustace inherited the deep sensibilities of his father, but a train ofhappy years rose in perspective before him. Unbroken health, uncloudedfame, successful love, wealth, and greatness--at the hour of hisrestoration to all these blessings, he must have been a monster whocould have withheld cordial forgiveness from a humiliated miserableenemy. Eustace visited the man who had doomed him to a premature grave,with a sincere desire to prolong his life, and restore his peace. To therelief afforded by a conviction that the guilt of his nephew's murderdid not lie upon his soul, De Vallance received the additionalconsolation of knowing that his own son was alive, and acknowledged byEustace as a most beloved friend and future brother. The forgiveness ofNeville, and the assurance of his powerful intercession with the King inhis favour, changed the horrors of the wretched man into transports ofjoy. Lost to all nobler feelings, and penitent only from terror,apprehensions of the future had increased the sickness which fatigue andanxiety had occasioned, and his recovery was expedited by the confidencehe now felt, that he should be permitted to spend the remnant of hisdays in security, protected by the virtues of the son whom he hadneglected, and the clemency of the victims he had wronged.
CHAP. XXVIII.
All friends shall taste The wages of their virtues, and all foes The cup of their deservings.
Shakspeare.
The restoration of the King was speedily followed by the re-instatementof Neville in his family-honours, and the marriage of his son anddaughter. Mrs. Mellicent had the unspeakable satisfaction of arrangingthe ceremony, selecting the dress of the brides, and ordering thenuptial banquet. History does not warrant me in adding, that sheafterwards consummated the happiness of Dr. Lloyd, by completing theliberal tokens of regard which his grateful friends showered upon him.But whether this was owing to her own obduracy, or to somewhat of thatenmity which often subsists between professors of the same liberal art,I have no means of discovering. It is certain that they continued to besincere friends, which possibly might not have been the case if Mrs.Mellicent's confidence in the superiority of her own cordials andointments to the recipes prescribed by the regularly educatedpractitioner, had not induced her to pass on, "in maiden meditationfancy free," preferring the privileges of "blessed singleness" to themortification of subscribing to the efficacy of those medical nostrumswhich were not found in the British herbal.
Morgan fled from Bellingham-Castle with the precipitation of an owl atthe sun-rising. When the aged Earl proceeded to take possession, hestrained his dim eyes to point out to his son the seat of his ancestorsfrom the most distant eminence which afforded a glimpse of the statelyturrets. He fancied he should never be weary in showing Eustace theparticular places which were signalized by conspicuous actions; the hallwhere Walter the Inflexible sat in judgment; the tower from whenceRodolph the Bold overlooked the tournament; the postern where Allan theMagnificent welcomed his princely guests with the courtly subservienceof an humble host; or the chamber in which Orlando the Good paid thedebt of nature, while the monks told their beads in the anti-room, andthe inner court of the castle was crowded by the pensioners whom hesupported, and the way-faring pilgrims he relieved. But Neville soondiscovered that prosperity has its disappointments as well as adversityits comforts. The woods which Earl Henry planted were cut down, theshield and trophies which Sir Edmund won at Agincourt were defaced, thefamily heirlooms were carried away, the precious manuscripts burnt, thestate-furniture sold. Bellingham-Castle was merely the despoiled shellof greatness, requiring, for its re-edifying, that energy and anxietywhich a worn-out invalid could not exercise. The duties of an exaltedstation overwhelmed him; its business distracted, its state fatiguedhim. He soon felt convinced, that to those who have long languished inthe gloom of sorrow, the brilliant glare of greatness is insupportable.To them ease is happiness, and tranquillity delight.
Determined to spend the residue of his days with his daughter, the Earlresigned Castle-Bellingham to Eustace and Constantia. Happiness andbenevolence diffused over the face of the latter charms superior to anyit had boasted even in the prime of youthful beauty. This excellent paircontinued to deserve each other's affection, being an ornament to theirhigh station, a blessing and an example to their neighbours, faithful totheir King, true to their country, and grateful to their God.
Not content with barely doing justice to those who had deserved andsuffered so much, the King granted to Lady Isabel Neville the manor ofWaverly, which had escheated to the crown by the extinction of thatill-fated family. The title of Lord Sedley had now devolved on Eustace.It was agreed to disuse the dishonoured name of De Vallance, and adoptthe endeared appellative of Evellin, to which was annexed the title ofBaronet. Waverly-Park was now changed into Evellin-hall. An elegantmansion was erected on the scite of the ruins, exhibiting as marked acontrast in the cheerful munificence of its aspect, as the firmintegrity, unostentatious goodness, and amiable manners of Sir Arthurand his Lady did to the contemptible character of its late inhabitants.
Large church-emoluments were offered to Dr. Beaumont; but he, with alowliness and moderation corresponding to his other great qualities,declined accepting any. He said he had endured too much to become aprominent actor in public affairs at a time which required the mostdispassionate prudence to heal discord, and the firmest wisdom to repairbreaches. He suspected his understanding was clouded, and his tempersoured, by the heavy pressure of affliction. He knew that his health wasbroken, and his long seclusion from the world had unfitted him forundertaking its direction. It was his prayer to devote the remnant ofhis days to peace and privacy. He returned to Ribblesdale (now endearedto him by the attachments of its inhabitants, and the change which histruly pastoral labours had produced,) in the same state of respectablemediocrity, with regard to worldly wealth, as he enjoyed before thecommencement of the troubles; his worthy heart glowing with the honestpride, that though he had shared in the sorrows, he had not partaken ofthe spoils, of his country. His return was welcomed with rapture. Hefound no pseudo-shepherd to dispute his right of reclaiming the churchhe had wedded with primitiv
e simplicity of affection. Davies had diedof an apoplexy; and Priggins, after giving indubitable proofs thatconversion was in him merely the turned coat of knavery, while, to weakunderstandings and bad hearts, he made religion itself contemptible bydressing it in the cap and bells of folly, had gradually lost all hisauditors. The return of the King made his spiritual wares whollyunsaleable. He studied the humour of the times; and, conforming towhat would gain him a maintenance, he turned his pulpit into astage-itinerant, and commenced Jack Priggins, a redoubtable MerryAndrew.
Though the royalists, while in expectation of the restoration, hadpromised to abstain from all suits of law on account of the injusticethey had suffered, the extortions of Morgan had so much out-herodedHerod, that justice claimed a right of stripping the daw who had longstalked in stolen trappings. Reduced, by repeated fines formisdemeanors, to his primitive meanness, the little man lost all theself-importance which had been the appendage of his greatness; and, frombeing a happy, joyous person, who thought the world a very good world,and all things going on as well as could be wished, he became adiscontented reviler, complaining that industry was unrewarded, andtalents left to perish on a dunghill. He gained a scanty support bypractising the basest chicane of his profession; and, after beingstripped of the affluence he had extorted from the rich, he contrived topick up the means of a bare existence, by inflaming the animosities, andadding to the necessities of penury. Whether his death was hastened by awant of the luxuries which indulgence had made indispensable, or by amore summary process, is uncertain.
The prejudices which Barton had imbibed against the Liturgy anddiscipline of the Church seemed to increase from a conscientiousapprehension that worldly motives might influence him to conformity. Invain did Dr. Beaumont advise him to follow the example of theapostolical Bernard Gilpin, who, "though he doubted as to some of thearticles to which he was required to subscribe, considered that, withoutsubscription, he could not serve in a Church which was likely to givegreat glory to God, and that what he disliked was of smallerconsequence." His extraordinary integrity prevented his compliance; andhe told Dr. Beaumont that, finding himself incapable of refuting thelearning and weight of his arguments, he suspected that a secret desireof worldly advancement had blunted his faculties; but of this he wascertain, that since he had refused assisting the Church, considered as acivil institution, in the night of her calamity, he had no right to baskin her sunshine. After this declaration, Dr. Beaumont's respect for therights of conscience made him for ever renounce the character of adisputant; but during all the hardships to which Non-conformists wereexposed he steadily supported that of a friend. Barton found, in theparsonage at Ribblesdale, a safe, honourable, and happy asylum fromthe tempest which fell upon his party. His peaceable and friendlydisposition restrained him from every mark of enmity to the Church fromwhich he dissented; nor did he ever confound the mistakes of hergovernors, or the faults of her officials, with the essentials of herinstitution. Dr. Beaumont avoided every topic that might give him pain,with a delicacy which proved that the gratitude of an obliged pensionermingled with the feelings of a generous host. Even Mrs. Mellicent neverabused Round-heads in his presence; and, as to fanatics, Barton thoughtthem as disgraceful to his sect as they were dangerous to the hierarchy.He had the singular honour of escorting the venerable spinster, in herpurple camlet riding-hood, whenever she visited her niece Lady Evellin,at the Hall, or her nephew Lord Sedley, at Bellingham-Castle; and thecordial welcome he ever received from both families, proved their justsensibility of his former kindness.
The wretched Walter De Vallance, when released from prison, went intovoluntary exile, supported by a pension from the Earl, who imposed thatduty on himself as a memento of his own errors. His sole care was toprolong his contemptible life; but his solicitude was unavailing. Helived to hear that his son had renounced his name, and that an heir wasborn to the House of Neville. As contrition had no share in his previoushumiliation, envy at the flourishing state of his rival's familyhastened his death.
This history, however, has still to record a true penitent. Nothingcould exceed the indignation of Jobson at finding himself deceived byMonthault. He was one of the first to ask forgiveness of the right Earlof Bellingham, and of His Reverence the Doctor, who, he was sure,deserved to be made a Lord also. "I don't come to your honours," saidhe, "because you are become great men, or to ask you to speak to theKing about me; for I know I have no right now to be a Beef-eater, or anything else; but I must just tell you how it was. Sure as you are alive Ithought all the while I was fighting for His Majesty; for thosegenerals, as they called themselves, turned, and twirled, and sworebackwards and forwards till nobody knew what side they were of. And thatsmooth-faced knave, Monthault (as pretty Mrs. Isabel said he was), toldme all was going on as it should be; and that Lambert would bring theKing back presently. So I fought furiously, thinking I was on the rightside, till that deceiver had his deserts from the honest general who didfetch the King home. Bless his sweet face! though I don't deserve tolook at it again."
Neville admitted that the perplexing changes which had lately happenedmight confuse a clearer head than Jobson's, and promised to retain himin the family, offering him the choice of being his personal attendant,or porter at Castle-Bellingham. Jobson's joy and gratitude wereunbounded. He preferred the former office. "Because," said he, "such ablundering fellow as I, who cannot tell rebels from honest men, may letpickpockets and gamblers into a true Lord's house, if they happen tohave smooth tongues, and shut plain honesty out of it, which I hope willnever be the case in Old England. But if I live always under YourHonour's eye, you will keep me from doing wrong; and a simple man, likeme, is always best off when directed by those who know better thanhimself."
Lord Bellingham is reported to have commended this opinion so warmly asto say, he hoped the race of the Jobsons would never be extinct amongthe British peasantry. But as this wish implies his persuasion, thatprinciple rather than information is the great desideratum in the lowerclasses, I dare not affirm that my hero was so very illiberal, though,as a Loyalist and a Churchman, I admit that he must have been adverse tothe generalizing philanthropy of that admired sentiment, "Educationuntainted by the bigotry of proselytism," which, if it be any thing morethan a brilliant scintillation of wit, intended, by its happyantithesis, to revive the dying embers of festive hilarity, must meanthat the ends of education are destroyed if they produce any effect; or,in other words, that though the lower classes are to be taught everything, great care should be taken that they do not improve by any thingthey learn--a discovery equally profound with that of Dogberry, whothought "writing and reading came by nature, but that to bewell-favoured was the gift of fortune."
I have only to add, that Lady Isabel Evellin long continued "to rock thecradle of reposing age;" and, to the last hour of her life, enjoyed theserene satisfaction which is the portion of those who, with true anddisinterested magnanimity, devote their abilities to the calls of dutyinstead of wasting their lives in self-indulgence.
THE END.
Strahan and Preston,Printers-Street, London.
