CHAPTER THREE.
LITTLE MRS. DOROTHY.
"And the thousands come and go All along the crowded street; But they give no ear to the things we know, And they pass with careless feet. For some hearts are hard with gold, And some are crushed in the throng, And some with the pleasures of life are cold-- How long, O Lord, how long!"
"If I am to begin at the beginning, my dears," said little Mrs Dorothy,"I must tell you that I was born in a farmhouse, about a mile from SaintAlbans, on the last day of the year of our Lord 1641; that my father wasthe Reverend William Jennings, brother to Sir Edward; and that my motherwas Mrs Frances, daughter to Sir Jeremy Charlton."
"Whatever made your father take up with a parson's life?" said Rhoda."I wouldn't be one for an apron full of money! Surely he was marriedfirst, wasn't he?"
"He was married first," answered Mrs Dorothy; "and both his father andmy mother's kindred took it extreme ill that he should propose suchviews to himself,--the rather because he was of an easy fortune, hisgrandmother having left him some money."
"Would I have been a parson!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I'm too fond of jelliesand conserves--nobody better."
"Well, my dear Mrs Rhoda, if you will have me say what I think,"resumed Mrs Dorothy.
"You can if you like," interjected Rhoda.
"It does seem to me, and hath ever done so, that the common customamongst us, which will have the chaplain to rise and withdraw whendessert is served, must be a relique of barbarous times."
Dessert at that time included pies, puddings, and jellies.
"O Mrs Dorothy! you have the drollest notions!"
And Rhoda went off in a long peal of laughter. The idea of any otherarrangement struck her as very comical indeed.
"Well, my dear," said Mrs Dorothy, "I hope some day to see itotherwise."
"Oh, how droll it would be!" said Rhoda. "But go on, please, MrsDolly."
"Through those troublous times that followed on my birth," resumed theold lady, "I was left for better safety with the farmer at whose house Iwas born; for my father had shortly after been made parson of a churchin London, and 'twas not thought well that so young a child as I thenwas should be bred up in all the city tumults. My foster-father's namewas Lawrence Ingham; and he and his good wife were as father and motherto me."
"But what fashion of breeding could you get at a farmhouse?" demandedRhoda, with a scornful pout.
"Why, 'twas not there I learned French, child," answered Mrs Dorothy,smiling; "but I learned to read, write, and cast accounts; to cook anddistil, to conserve and pickle; with all manner of handiworks--sewing,knitting, broidery, and such like. And I can tell you, my dear, that inall the great world whereunto I afterwards entered I never saw bettermanners than in that farmhouse. I saw more ceremonies, sure; but notmore courtesy and kindly thought for others."
"Why, I thought folks like that had no manners at all!" said Rhoda.
"Then you were mightily mistaken, my dear. Farmer Ingham had twodaughters, who were like sisters to me; but they were both older than I.Their names were Grace and Faith. 'Twas a very quiet, peacefulhousehold. We rose with the sun in summer, and before it in winter--"
"Catch me!" interpolated Rhoda.
"And before any other thing might be done, there was reading and prayerin the farmhouse kitchen. All the farm servants trooped in, and tooktheir places in order, the men on the right hand of the master, and thewomen on the left of the mistress. Then the farmer read a chapter, andafterwards prayed, all joining in `Our Father' at the end."
"But--he wasn't a parson?" demanded Rhoda, with a perplexed look.
"Oh no, my dear."
"Then how could he pray?" said Rhoda. "He'd no business to read thePrayer-Book; and of course he couldn't pray without it."
"Ah, then he made a mistake," replied Mrs Dorothy very quietly. "Hefancied he could."
"But who ever heard of such a thing?" said Rhoda.
"We heard a good deal of it in those days, my dear. Why, child, theCommon Prayer was forbid, even in the churches. Nobody used it, save afew here and there, that chose to run the risk of being found out andpunished."
"How queer!" cried Rhoda. "Well, go on, Mrs Dolly. I hope the prayersweren't long. I should have wanted my breakfast."
"They were usually about three parts of an hour."
"Ugh!" with a manufactured shudder, came from Rhoda.
"After prayers, for an hour, each went to her calling. Commonly we tookit turn about, the girls and I--one with the mistress in the kitchen,one with the maids in the chambers, and the third, if the weather wasfine, a-weeding the posies in the garden, or, if wet, at her sewing inthe parlour. Then the great bell was rung for breakfast, and we allgathered again in the kitchen. For breakfast were furmety, eggs, andbutter, and milk, for the women; cold bakemeats and ale for the men."
"No tea?" asked Rhoda.
"I was near ten years old, child, ere coffee came into England; and teawas some years later. The first coffee-house that ever was in thisrealm was set up at Oxford, of one Jacobs, a Jew; and about two yearsafter was the first in London. For tea, 'twas said Queen Catherinebrought it hither from Portingale; but in truth, I believe 'twas knownamong us somewhat sooner. But when it came in, for a long time noneknew how to use it, except at the coffee-houses. I could tell you adroll tale of a neighbour of Farmer Ingham's, that had a parcel of teasent her as a great present from London, with a letter that said 'twasall the mode with the quality. And what did she, think you, but boiledit like cabbage, and bade all her neighbours come taste the new greens."
"Did they like them?" asked Rhoda, as well as she could speak forlaughing.
"I heard they all thought with their hostess, who said, `If those werequality greens, the quality were welcome to keep 'em; country folk wouldrather have cabbage and spinach any day.'"
"Well!" said Rhoda, bridling a little, when her amusement had subsided;"'tis very silly for mean people to ape the quality."
"It is so, my dear," replied Mrs Dorothy, with that extreme quietnesswhich was the nearest her gentle spirit could come to irony. "'Tissilly for any to ape another, be he less or more."
"Why, there can be no communication between them," observed Rhoda, witha toss of her head.
"`Communication,' my dear," said Mrs Dolly. "Yonder's a new word.Where did you pick it up?"
"O Mrs Dolly! you can't be in the mode if you don't pick up all the newwords," answered Rhoda more affectedly than ever. She was showing offnow, and was entirely in her element.
"And pray what are the other new words, my dear?" inquired Mrs Dorothygood-naturedly, and not without a little amusement. "That one soundsvery much like the old-fashioned `commerce.'"
"Well, I don't know them all!" said Rhoda, with an assumption ofhumility; "but now-o'-days, when you speak of any one's direction, youmust say _adresse_, from the French; and if one is out of spirits, yousay he is _hipped_--that's from hypochondriacal; and a crowd of peopleis a _mob_--that's short for mobile; and when a man goes about, anddoesn't want to be known, you say he is _incog._--that means incognito,which is the Spanish for unknown. Then you say Mr Such-an-one spends_to the tune of five_ hundred a year; and there are a lot of men _of hiskidney_; and _I bantered them_ well about it. Oh, there are lots of newwords, Mrs Dolly."
"So it seems, my dear. But are you sure incognito is Spanish?"
"Oh, yes! William Knight told me so," said Rhoda, with another toss ofher head.
"I imagined it was Latin," observed Mrs Dorothy. "But 'tis true, Iknow nought of either tongue."
"Oh, William Knight knows everything," said Rhoda, hyperbolically.
"He must be a very ingenious young man," quietly observed Mrs Dorothy.
"Well, he is," said Rhoda, scarcely perceiving the satire latent in MrsDorothy's calm tones.
"I am glad to hear it, my dear," returned the old lady.
"But he's very uppish,--that's pos.," resumed the young one.
"Really, my dear, you a
re full of new words," said Mrs Dorothy,good-naturedly. "What means `pos.,' pray you?"
"Why, `positive,'" said Rhoda, laughing. "And _rep._ means reputation,and _fire_ means spirit, and _smart_ means sharp, and a _concert_ meansa lot of people singing and playing on instruments of music, and an_operation_ means anything you do, and a _speculation_ means--well, itmeans--it means a speculation, you know."
"Dear, dear!" cried little Mrs Dorothy, holding up her hands. "Iprotest, my dear, I shall be drove to learn the English tongue anew ifthis mode go on."
"Well, Mrs Dolly, suppose your tale should go on?" suggested Rhoda."Heyday! do you know what everybody is saying?--everybody that isanybody, you understand."
"I thought that everybody was somebody," remarked Mrs Dorothy, with acomical set of the lips.
"Oh dear, no!" said Rhoda. "There are ever so many people who arenobody."
"Indeed!" said Mrs Dorothy. "Well, child, what is everybody saying?"
"Why, they say the Duke is not so well with the Queen as he has been.'Tis thought, I assure you, by many above people."
"Is that one of the new words?" inquired Mrs Dorothy, with a littlelaugh. "Dear child, what mean you?--the angels?"
"Oh, Mrs Dorothy, you are the oddest creature!" cried Rhoda. "Why, youknow very well what I mean. Should you be sorry, Mrs Dolly, if theDuke became inconsiderable?"
"No, my dear. Why should I?"
"Well, I thought--" but Rhoda's thought went no further.
"You thought," quietly continued the old lady, "that I had not had enowof town vanities, and would fain climb a few rungs up the ladder,holding on to folks' skirts. Was that it, child?"
"Well, I don't know," said Rhoda uneasily, for Mrs Dorothy hadtranslated her thought into rather too plain language.
"Ah, my dear, that is because you would love to climb a littleyourself," said Mrs Dorothy, smilingly, "and you apprehend noinconveniency from it. But, child, 'tis the weariest work in all theworld--except it be climbing from earth to heaven. To climb on men'sladders is mostly as a squirrel climbs in its cage,--round and round;you think yourself going vastly higher, but those that stand on the firmground and watch you see that you do but go round. But to climb upJacob's ladder, whereof the Lord stands at the top, it will be othereyes that behold you climbing up, when in your own eyes you have notbettered yourself by a step. Climb as high as you will there, dearmaids!--but never mind the ladders that go round. They are infinitelydisappointing. I know it, for I have climbed them."
"Well, Mrs Dolly, do go on, now, and tell us all about it, there's agood soul!" said Rhoda.
Little Mrs Dorothy was executing some elaborate knitting. She went onwith it for a few seconds in silence.
"I was but sixteen," she said, quietly, "when my mother came to visitme. I could not remember seeing her before: and very frighted was I ofthe grand gentlewoman, for so she seemed to me, that rustled into thefarmhouse kitchen in silken brocade, and a velvet tippet on her neck.She was evenly disappointed with me. She thought me stiff and gloomy;and I thought her strange and full of vanities. `In three years' time,Dolly,' quoth she, `thou wilt be nineteen, and I will then have thee upto Town, and thou shalt see somewhat of the world. Thou art notill-favoured,' quoth she,--'twas my mother that said this, my dears,"modestly interpolated Mrs Dorothy,--"and I dare say thou wilt be theTown talk in a week. 'Tis pity there is no better world to have theeinto!--and thy father as sour and Puritanical as any till of late, savethe mark!--but there, `we must swim with the tide,' saith she. `'Tis along lane that has no turning.' Ah me! but the lane had turned ere Iwas nineteen."
"Why, Mrs Dolly, the Restoration must have been that very year,"observed Rhoda.
"That very year," repeated Mrs Dorothy. "'Twas in April I quittedFarmer Ingham's house, and was fetched up to London; and in May came theKing in, and was shortly thereafter crowned."
"If it please you," asked Phoebe, speaking for the first time of her ownaccord, "were you glad to go, Madam?"
"Well, my dear, I was partly glad and partly sorry. I was sorrowful totake leave of mine old friends, little knowing if I should ever see themagain or no; yet, like an untried maid, I was mightily set up with thethought of seeing London, and the lions, and Whitehall, and the like.Silly maid that I was! I had better have shed tears for the last thanfor the first."
"What thought you the finest thing in London?" said Rhoda. "But tellus, what thought you of London altogether?"
"Why, the first thing I thought of was the size and the noise," answeredMrs Dorothy. "It seemed to me such a great overgrown town, sodifferent from Saint Albans; and so many carts and wheelbarrows alwaysrattling over the stones; and so many folks in the streets; and all thestrange cries of a morning. I thought my father a very strange, coldman, of whom I was no little afraid; and my mother was sadlydisappointed that I did not roll my eyes, and had not been taught todance."
"Why did they ever leave you at a farmhouse?" inquired Rhoda, ratherscornfully.
"_I_ cannot entirely say, my dear; but I think that was mainly myfather's doing. My poor father!"
And Mrs Dorothy's handkerchief was hastily passed across her eyes.
"The first night I came," she said, "my mother had a large assembly inher withdrawing-chamber. There were smart-dressed ladies fluttering oftheir fans, and gentlemen in all the colours of the rainbow; and I,foolish maid! right well pleased when one and another commended mycountry complexion, or told me something about my fine eyes: when all atonce came a heavy hand on my shoulder, and my father saith, `Dorothy, Iwould speak with you.' I followed him forth, not a little tremblinglest he should be about to chide me; but he led me into his own closet,and shut the door. He bade me sit, and leaning over the fire himself,he said nought for a moment. Then saith he, `Dorothy, you heard MrDebenham speak to you?' `Yes, Sir,' quoth I. `And what said he,child?' goes on my father, gently. I was something loth to repeat whathe had said; for it was what I, in my foolish heart, thought a very finespeech about Mrs Doll's fine eyes, that glistered like stars. Howbeit,my father waited quiet enough; and having been well bred to obey byFarmer Ingham, I brought it out at last. `Did you believe it, Dorothy?'saith my father. `Did you think he meant it?' I did but whisper, `Yes,Sir,' for I could not but feel very much ashamed. `Then, Dorothy,'saith he, `the first lesson you will do well to learn in London is thatmen and women do not always mean it when they flatter you. And he doesnot. Ah!' saith my father, fetching a great sigh,--`'tis easy work forfathers to say such things, but not so for maidens to believe them.There is one other thing I would have you learn, Dorothy.' `Yes, Sir,'quoth I, when he stayed. He turned him around, and looked in my facewith his dark eyes, that seemed to burn into me, and he saith, `Learnthis, Dorothy,--that 'tis the easiest thing in all the world for a manto drift away from God. Ay, or a woman either. You may do it, andnever know that you have done it,--for a while, at least. David was twofull years ere he found it out. Oh Dorothy, take warning! I was onceas innocent as you are. I have drifted from God, oh my child, how far!The Lord keep you from a like fate.' I was fairly affrighted, for hisface was terrible. An hour after, I saw him dealing the cards at ombre,with a look as bright and mirthful as though he knew not grief but byname."
Phoebe looked up with eyes full of meaning. "Did he never come back?"
"Dear child," said Mrs Dorothy, turning to her, "hast thou forgot thatthe Good Shepherd goeth after that which was lost, until He find it? Hecame back, my dear. But it was through the Great Plague and the GreatFire."
It was evident for a few minutes that Mrs Dorothy was wrestling withpainful memories.
"Well, and what then?" said Rhoda, who wanted the story to go on, andwas afraid of what she called preaching.
"Well!" resumed the old lady, more lightly, "then, for three days in theweek I had a dancing-master come to teach me; and twice in the week amusic-master; and all manner of new gowns, and my hair dressed in amultitude of curls; and my mother's maid to teach me French, and seethat I
carried myself well. And when this had gone on a while, mymother began to carry me a-visiting when she went to see her friends.For above a year she used a hackney coach; but then my father was madeDoctor, and had a great church given him that was then all the mode; andmy Lady Jennings came up to Town, and finding he had parts, she began totake note of him, and would carry him in her coach to the Court; and mymother would then set up her own coach, the which she did. And atlength, the summer before I was one-and-twenty, my Lady Jennings,without the privity of my father, offered my mother to have me a maid toone of the Ladies in Waiting on the Queen. From this place, said she,if I played my cards well, and was liked of them above me, I might comein time to be a Maid of Honour."
"O rare!" exclaimed Rhoda. "And did you, Mrs Dolly?"
"Yes, child," slowly answered Mrs Dorothy. "I did so."
Rhoda's face was sparkling with interest and pleasure. Phoebe's wasshadowed with forebodings, of a sad end to come.
"The night ere I left home for the Court," pursued the old lady, "mymother held long converse with me. `Thou art mightily improved, Dolly,'saith she, `since thy coming to London; but there is yet a stiffsoberness about thee, that thou wilt do well to be rid of. Thoushouldst have more ease, child. Do but look at thy cousin Jenny, thatis three years younger than thou, and yet how will she rattle to everyman that hath a word of compliment to pay her!' But after she had madean end, my father called me into his closet. `Poor Dorothy!' he said.`The bloom is not all off the peach yet. But 'tis going, child--'tisfast going. I feared this. Poor Dorothy!'"
"Oh, dear!" said Rhoda. "You were not going to a funeral, Mrs Dolly!"
"Ah, child! maybe, if I had, it had been the better for me. The wiseman saith, `It is better to go to the house of mourning than to thehouse of feasting.'"
"But pray, what harm came to you, Mrs Dorothy?"
"No outward bodily harm at all, my dear. Yet even that was no thanks tome. It was `of the Lord's compassion,' seeing He had a purpose of mercytoward me. But, ah me! what inward and spiritual harm! Mrs Rhoda, mydear, I saw sights and heard sayings those two years I dwelt in theCourt which I would give the world, so to speak, only to forget themnow."
"What were they, Mrs Dorothy?" asked Rhoda, eagerly sitting up.
"Think you I am likely to tell you, child? No, indeed!"
"But what sort of harm did they to you, Mrs Dolly?"
"Child, I learned to think lightly of sin. People did not talk of sinthere at all; the words they used were crime and vice. Every wrongdoing was looked on as it affected other men: if it touched yourneighbour's purse or person, it was ill; if it only grieved his heart,then 'twas a little matter. But how it touched God was never so much asthought on. There might have been no God in Heaven, so little accountwas taken of Him there."
"Now do tell us. Mrs Dolly, what the Queen was like, and the King,"said Rhoda, yawning. "And how many Maids of Honour were there? Justtell us all about it."
"There were six," replied the old lady, taking up her knitting, whichshe had dropped in her earnestness a minute before. "And Mrs Sandersonwas their mother. I reckon you will scarce know that always a marriedgentlewoman goeth about with these young damsels, called the Mother ofthe Maids, whose work it is to see after them."
"And keep them from everything jolly!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Now, that's ashame! Wouldn't it be fun to bamboozle that creature? I protest Ishould enjoy it!"
"O Mrs Rhoda! Mrs Rhoda!"
"I should, of all things, Mrs Dolly! But now, what were the King andQueen like? Was she very beautiful?"
[Note: Charles the Second and Catherine of Braganza.]
"No," said Mrs Dorothy, "she was not. She had pretty feet, fine eyes,and very lovely hair. 'Twas rich brown on the top of her head, anddescending downward it grew into jet black. For the rest, she was buttolerable. In truth, her teeth wronged her by sticking too far out ofher mouth; but for that she would have been lovelier by much."
"Horrid!" said Rhoda. "I forget where she came from, Mrs Dolly?"
"She came from Portingale, my dear, being daughter to the King of thatcountry, and her name was Catherine."
"And what was the King like?"
"When he was little, my dear, his mother, Queen Mary, used to say he wasso ugly a baby that she was quite ashamed of him. He wasbetter-favoured when he grew a man; he had good eyes, but a largeMouth."
[Note: Queen Mary was Henrietta Maria, always termed Queen Mary duringher own reign.]
"He was a black man, was he not?"
By which term Rhoda meant what we now call a dark man.
"Yes, very black and swarthy."
"Where did he commonly live?"
"Mostly at Whitehall or Saint James's. At times he went to HamptonCourt, and often, for a change of sir, to Newmarket; now and then toTunbridge Wells. He was but little at Windsor."
"Did you like him, Mrs Dorothy?"
Phoebe looked up, when no answer came. The expression of Mrs Dorothy'sface was a curious mixture of fear, repulsion, and yet amusement.
"No!" she said at length.
"Why not?" demanded Rhoda.
"Well, there were some that did," was the reply, in a rather constrainedtone; "and the one that he behaved the worst to loved him the best ofall."
"How droll!" said Rhoda. "And who were your friends, then, MrsDorothy?"
"That depends, my dear, on what you mean by friends. If you mean themthat flattered me, and joked with me, and the like,--why, I had verymany; or if you mean them that would take some trouble to push me in theworld,--well, there were several of those; but if you mean such as areonly true friends, that would have cast one thought to my real welfare,whether I should go to Heaven or Hell,--I had but one of that sort."
"And who was your one friend, Mrs Dolly?" asked Rhoda, pursing up herlips a little.
"The King's Scots cook, my dear," quietly replied Mrs Dorothy.
"The _what_?" shrieked Rhoda, going into convulsions of laughter.
"Ah, you may laugh, Mrs Rhoda. You know there's an old saying, `Letthem laugh that win.' If ever an old sinner like me enters the gates ofHeaven, so far as the human means are concerned, I shall owe it, firstof all, to old David Armstrong."
"Will you please to tell us about him, Madam?" rather timidly askedPhoebe.
"With all my heart, my dear. Dear old Davie! Methinks I see him now.Picture to yourselves, my dears, a short man, something stooping in theshoulders, with sharp features and iron-grey hair; always dressed in hiswhite cooking garb, and a white cap over his frizzled locks. But beforeI tell you what I knew of old Davie, methinks I had better tell you atale of him that will give you some diversion, without I mistake."
"Oh do, Mrs Dolly?" cried Rhoda, who feared nothing so much as toogreat seriousness in her friend's stones.
"Well," said Mrs Dorothy, "then you must know, my dears, that once upona time the King and Queen were at dinner, and with them, amongst others,my Lord Rochester, who was at that time a very wild gallant. He died,indeed, very penitent, and, I trust, a saved man; but let that be. Theywere sat after dinner, and my Lord Rochester passes the bottle about tohis next neighbour. `Come, man!' saith the King, in his rollicksomeway, `take a glass of that which cheereth God and man, as Scripturesaith.' My Lord Rochester at once bets the King forty pound that therewas no such saying in Scripture. The King referreth all to the Queen'schaplain, that happened to be the only parson then present; but saithagain, that though he could not name the place, yet he was as certain tohave read it in Scripture as that his name was Charles, `What thinksyour Majesty?' quoth my Lord Rochester, turning to the Queen. She, verymodestly--"
"But, Mrs Dolly, was not the Queen a Papist? What would she know aboutthe Bible?"
"So she was, my dear. But they have a Bible of their own, that theyallow the reading of to certain persons. And I dare say she was one.However, my Lord Rochester asked her, for I heard him; and she said,very womanly, that she was unfit to decide such matters, but she coul
dnot think there to be any such passage in the Bible."
"Why, there isn't!" rashly interpolated Rhoda.
Mrs Dorothy smiled, but did not contradict her.
"Then up spoke the Queen's chaplain, and gave his voice like hismistress, that there was no such passage; and several others of them atthe table said they thought the like. So the King, swearing his wontedoath, cried out for some to bring a Bible, that he might search andsee."
"O Mrs Dolly! what was his favourite oath?"
"I do not see, my dear, that it would do you any good to know it. Well,the Bible, as matters went, was not to be had. King, Queen, chaplain,and courtiers, there was not a man nor woman at the table that owned topossessing a Bible."
"How shocking!" said Phoebe, under her breath.
"Very shocking, my dear," assented Mrs Dorothy. "But all at once myLord Rochester cries out, `Please your Majesty, I'll lay you fortyshillings there's one man in this palace that has a Bible! He cut meshort for swearing in the yard a month since. That's old David, yourMajesty's Scots cook. If you'll send for him--' `Done!' says the King.`Killigrew, root out old Davie, and tell him to come here, and bring hisBible with him.' So away went Mr Killigrew, the King's favourite page;and ere long back he comes, and old Davie with him, and under Davie'sarm a great brown book. `Here he is, Sire, Bible and all!' says MrKilligrew. `Come forward, Davie, and be hanged!' says the King. `I'llcome forward, Sire, at your Majesty's bidding,' says Davie, `and gin yeorder it, and I ha'e deservit it, I can be hangit,' saith he, mightydry; 'but under your Majesty's pleasure I'll just tak' the liberty toask, Sire, what are ye wantin' wi' the Buik?"
"Oh, how queer you talk, Mrs Dolly!"
"As David talked, my dear. He was a Scot, you know. Well, the Kinggave a hearty laugh; and says he, `Oh, come forward, Davie, and fearnothing. We'll not hang you, and we want no hurt to your darling book.'`Atweel, Sire,' says Davie, `and I'd ha'e been gey sorry gin ye hadmeant to hurt my buik, seein' it was my mither's, and I set store by itfor her sake; but trust me, Sire, I'd ha'e been a hantle sorrier gin yehad meant onie disrespect to the Lord's Buik. I'll no stand by, wi' a'honour to your Majesty, an' see I lichtlied.'"
"What does that mean, Mrs Dolly?"
"Set light by, my dear. Well, the King laughed again, but I thinkDavie's words a little sobered him, for he spoke kindly enough, that noharm should be done, nor was any disrespect intended; `but,' saith he,`my Lord Rochester and I fell a-disputing if certain words were in theBible or no; and as you are the only man here like to have one, I sentfor you.' Davie looks, quiet enough, round all the table; and he says,under his breath, `The only man here like to have a Bible! Ay, yourMajesty, I ken weel eneuch that I ha'e my habitation among the tents o'Kedar. Atweel, Sire, an' I'll be pleasit to answer onie sic question,gin ye please to tell me the words.' My Lord Rochester saith, `"Wine,which cheereth God and man." Are such words as those in the Bible,David?' Neither yea nor nay said old Davie: but he turned over theleaves of his Bible for a moment, and then, clearing his voice, andfirst doffing his cook's cap (which he had but lifted a minute for theKing), he read from the Book of Judges, Jotham's parable of the trees.'Twas a little while ere any spoke: then said the Queen's chaplain,swearing a great oath, that he could not but be infinitely surprised tofind there to be such words in the Bible."
"O Mrs Dolly! a parson to swear!"
"There are different sorts of parsons, my dear. But old David thoughtit shocking, for he turns round to the chaplain, and saith he, `Yourpardon, Mr Howard, but gin ye'd give me leave, I'd be pleasit to swearthe neist oath for ye. It would sound rather better, ye ken, for a cookthan a chaplain.' `Hurrah!' says the King, swearing himself, `thesprightliest humour I heard of a long time! Pray you, silence, and hearold Davie swear!' `I see nothing to swear anent the now, an' it pleaseyour Majesty,' says Davie, mighty dry again: `when I do, your Majesty'llbe sure to hear it.' The King laughed heartily, for he took Davie rightenough, though I saw some look puzzled. Of course he never would seereason to do a sinful thing. But a new thought had come into the King'shead, and he turns quick to Mr Howard, and desires that he would giveexposition of the words that Davie had read. `You ought to know whatthey mean, if we don't, poor sinners,' saith the King. `I protest,Sire,' saith the chaplain, `that I cannot so much as guess what theymean.' `Now then, David the divine,' cries my Lord Rochester, `yourexposition, if you please.' And some of the courtiers, that by thistime were not too sober, drummed on the table with glasses, and shoutedfor David's sermon."
"I think, Mrs Dolly, that was scarce proper, in the King's and Queen'spresence."
"So I think, my dear. But King Charles's Court was Liberty Hall, andevery man did that which was right in his own eyes. But Davie stoodvery quiet, with the Bible yet open in his hands. He waited hismaster's bidding, if they did not. `Oh ay, go on, Davie,' saith theKing, leaning back in his chair and laughing. `Silence for Mr DavidArmstrong's sermon!' cries my Lord Rochester, in a voice of a master ofceremonies. But Davie took no note of any voice but the King's, though'twas to my Lord Rochester he addressed him when he spoke. `That winecheereth man, your Lordship very well knows,' quoth Davie, in his dryway: and seeing his Lordship had drank a bottle and a half since he satdown, I should think he did, my dears. `But this, that wine cheerethGod, is referable to the drink-offering commanded by God of the Jews,wherein the wine doth seem to typify the precious blood of Christ, andthe thankfulness of him that hath his iniquity thereby purged away. Forin the fifteenth chapter of the Book of Numbers you shall find thisdrink-offering termed "a sweet savour unto the Lord." And since nothingbut Christ is a sweet savour unto God, therefore we judge that the wineof the drink-offering, like to that of the Sacrament, did denote theblood of Christ whereby we are redeemed; the one prefiguring thatwhereto it looked forward, as the other doth likewise figure thatwhereunto it looketh back. This, therefore, that wine cheereth God, isto be understood by an emblem, of the blood of Christ, our Mediator; forthrough this means God is well pleased in the way of salvation that Hehath appointed, whereby His justice is satisfied. His law fulfilled,His mercy reigneth, His grace doth triumph, all His perfections do agreetogether, the sinner is saved, and God in Christ glorified. Now, Sire,I have done your bidding, and I humbly ask your Majesty's leave towithdraw.' The King said naught, but cast him a nod of consent. Mydears, you never saw such a change as had come over that table. Everyman seemed sobered and awed. The Queen was weeping, the King silent andthoughtful. My Lord Rochester, whom at that time nothing could soberlong, was the only one to speak, and rising with make-believe gravity,as though in his place in the House of Lords, he offered a motion thatthe King should please to send Mr Howard into the kitchen to make kail,and raise the Reverend Mr David Armstrong to the place of chaplain."
"What is kail, Mrs Dolly?" asked Rhoda, laughing.
"'Tis Scots broth, my dear, whereof King Charles was very fond, and oldDavid had been fetched from Scotland on purpose to make it for him."
"What a droll old man!" exclaimed Rhoda.
"Ah, he was one of the best men ever I knew," said Mrs Dorothy. "But,my dear, look at the clock!"
"I declare!" cried Rhoda. "Phoebe, we have but just time to run homeere supper, if so much as that. Good evening, Mrs Dolly, and thankyou. What will Madam say?"
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Note: David Armstrong is a historical person, and this anecdote is true.The surname given to him only is fictitious, as history does not recordany name but "David."
The Maidens' Lodge; or, None of Self and All of Thee Page 3