The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Page 14
CHAP. XIV.
These black clouds will overblowe; Sunshine shall have his returning; And my grief-wrung heart I know, Into mirth shall change his mourning. _Psalm_ xiii.--DAVISON.
Martin Noble and his guide did not reach old Glastonbury till aftersunset. Crossing one of the lower streets of the town, they passedinto a suburb of scattered cottages; and turning up a narrow lane byone of those large stone barns that formerly belonged to the abbey,they stopped at the garden wicket of a small lone cottage. Martinstood without while his guide stepped gently forward, that the goodparson and his lady might not be overcome by too sudden a surprise.
A light shone through the narrow casement: all objects around wereshaded in the soft obscurity of a summer night: the air was perfume;and all things seemed hushed into a stillness at once sweet andsolemn. Martin passed the wicket with a trembling step and a throbbingheart; and ere he reached the door he was met in the path and foldedto a father's heart. Another moment, and he was pressed again to thatbosom on which he had hung in helpless infancy. Now the lamp was heldup by his father, and his hair was parted from his forehead by hismother's hand, and her eyes rested upon his face and scanned his form;and he felt the unutterable bliss of being the child of such parents.They took him by the hand, and made him kneel with them before God,while they fervently thanked him for his mercy, "which endureth forever." After a brief pause, they rose; and as Martin looked round onthe mean and scanty accommodations of the poor hovel which theyinhabited, and then remarked the calm and contented expression ofcountenance which they both wore, he was lost in astonishment.
"Is it possible," he exclaimed, "father, that you have no betterdwelling than this? Alas! how much must my dear mother undergo."
"Your mother, Martin, never had more equal spirits or more regularhealth than in this humble and obscure cottage. She makes me andherself as happy as, under the painful circumstances of the land, anypersons can or ought to be." Here the old couple looked in eachother's eyes, with that calm fondness which is the fruit of love longtried, and lately quickened by the rude storms of persecution andpoverty. But it is to be borne in mind, that in such and all likecases, in times of trouble and confusion, there may be suffering, butthere cannot be shame. That which is commonly the most bitteringredient of an indigent condition is altogether wanting: _therecannot be shame_: neither the sense of it, in those who are reduced tothe extremities of need, nor one thought of it in the minds of thosewho look upon the necessities of their fallen fortunes. Their rags arehonest: they can tread the clay floor of a common straw-roofed hutwith as much pride as though it were a marble hall. Therefore, wherethere is health, and the physical capability of endurance, and whereno habits of softness, sensuality, and self-indulgence, havepreviously enslaved the spirit, and left it tied and bound as adespised victim to be tormented by discontent and peevishness, therewill be found a cheerful resignation in the poorest circumstances.Here there was the grace of contentment in daily exercise. Old Nobleand his wife were not only resigned but thankful for the blessings offood, shelter, and raiment, and they hopefully made the best of everything around them.
"Martin," said his father as he heard the wicket swing, "here is oneof your oldest friends coming: you have not forgot Peter."
"Lord love you, Master Martin," said the old man as he entered, "Ihave heard of you:" here he took the offered hand, and bowed his headon it; then again looking up, resumed, "Well if it is not--yes,--no,well, I can't make you out; why, how you are grown and altered! Onething's right, I see,--you have not got your head clipped and shavedlike a mule's rump." Here Peter caught a grave look on the face ofhis master, and added, "Well, truth's best spoken out: I don't like'em, the knaves, and I've reasons as plenty as blackberries. Didn'tthey come a horseback into the church at the christening, and throwover the Font; and has not that prick-eared, tallow-faced rogue, andno parson, stuck it into the ground in our poultry yard, near themuck-heap, for the ducks to dabble in? and didn't they drive you outof house and home, and throw your furniture out of window, and offerit for sale in the street? and didn't they burn your favourite oldbooks, and break the old lute, and make you and mistress trudge half awinter's night in the mire? and worse than all, haven't they bewitchedMaster Cuthbert, and changed his nature like, and made him against hisown kin and his own king? Rot'em! No rogue like your godly rogue, myold mother was wont to say:--all saint without, all devil within.There, love you, dear master, don't scold with your eyes in thatfashion: 'an old dog cannot alter his way of barking.' Come, I'vecoughed it all out, and it has done me good, and now for salt andtrenchers. I'll warrant Master Martin has got hunger sauce for hissupper."
Herewith he set about covering the low table with a white napkin andclean trenchers, and produced from the basket a small mutton ham andsome fine heads of sweet lettuce, and a loaf of the best wheatenbread; and setting on one side a small keg of ale, stood up with alook of pride and joy at his master's back, and said, "To God's gift,God send a good appetite."
"How is this, Peter, whence is this?" asked old Noble.
"Why, master, it is from old Mrs. Blount. Wasn't her good man--'peaceto his soul!'--wasn't he a church-tenant, and his father's fatherbefore him? and was there a day of your life that you hadn't a kindword for him? and does not she know that you have got a stout youngtrencher-man come to you and nothing to set before him?"
"Well, well,--she is a warm-hearted woman, and always was. God rewardher! but sit down, Peter: you and I are only fellow-labourers now; andif you did not handle the spade better than I do, we should not havefared half so well as we have hitherto:--make him sit down, wife."
"No," said Peter, "'t was well enough sometimes o' the long winternights, when madam worked her needle-work and you were making nets,for old Peter to have a seat in the chimney-corner, and to hear yourblessed voices, and take food from your own hands, and eat it by thesame fire; but now, with Master Martin at home, we'll soon have thingsright again."
These few words of the honest and faithful Peter gave Martin a rudebut strong outline of all that had been lately passing at home; and itwas easy for him to fill in, from the fancy, a picture of the presentstate of England, by considering the evils to which his own parentshad been exposed. As he saw in the person of his own father a piousson of the church, a true patriot, and a loyal subject, trampled underfoot by a tyrannous parliament, degraded from his holy office, andejected from his own house, he felt a deep thankfulness for theprovidential ordering that had kept him away from England at a momentof excitement when, unsuspicious of the real aim and tendency of manyof the measures of Parliament, he should probably have joined theirbanners. He was now plainly called to a very different course; and, asthere he sat in the presence of his parents, his resolution wassilently taken to share the fortunes of the royal army. These thingsswept across his mind swiftly, and gave no interruption to the gladflow of his spirits, as, sitting once again at table with a father anda mother, he took his cheerful meal, replying to all the questionsthey asked, and relating to them such passages of his travels andadventures as he thought might gratify or divert them.
When, however, his mother had retired, Martin questioned his father,with not a little anxiety, about the part which his brother had taken,and about the present condition of some of those families and friendswhom he had hoped to have met again in happy intercourse. The answersto these inquiries did for the most part convey pain. His brother, itseemed, was among those devout but sincere enthusiasts, who, offendedwith certain faults in the government of the church, and certainscandals in unworthy individuals among the clergy, desired a severepurification of the Establishment, and in their zeal for rooting outthe tares, were destroying the wheat with them. Upon this subject oldNoble was very mournful. He had been himself an epistle known and readof all men:--his life was so pure and exemplary--his habits soquiet--his pursuits so innocent--his teaching so plain andfaithful--and his attention to the spiritual wants and the temporalnecessities of his flock so constant
and tender--that such of theneighbouring clergy as led less creditable lives had long regarded himas a Puritan. The worldly, to whom all tests were indifferent, and whowere ready to embrace any profession of faith, and submit to anynovelties, whether of doctrine or of discipline, necessary, by presentlaw, to preserve their incomes in peace, had fully reckoned on thesheltering support of his name. But, to the surprize of all, save thefew who knew him intimately, he was found, in the hour of trial, inthat humble and hallowed band which took cheerfully the spoiling oftheir goods for conscience-sake. It was past midnight before Martinand his father parted. In a small upper room, which took the shape ofthe sloping roof, Martin passed the night upon a clean pallet. Hecould sleep but little: through the open window came the gratefulscent of the honeysuckle, and his eyes rested upon the stars. Hisbroken slumbers were full of strange visions, that crowded on and awayin such quick succession as to leave no connected impressions. Of somedear familiar face a sudden glimpse was caught, and lost soimmediately as to be a grief; and a familiar voice heard soft andmelodious, but the straining ear could catch no word; and then musicexquisitely faint and plaintive; and then the stern trumpet, anddarkness, and a crash, louder than any thunder, and so sleep frightedfrom the eyes, and a troubled awakening. But towards morning theblessing came:--a drowsiness stole upon him, and with it a delicioussense of fading consciousness. A sleep deep, dreamless, andrefreshing, was gently and pleasantly chased from his eyes by the playof the cheerful sunbeams; and through the open casement was poured thevaried melody of little birds, that with clear sweet notes weresending up to heaven, with the white incense of the morning dew, theirearly song.
Martin sprang up with a grateful heart, and looked from the window.The mantling honeysuckle did half conceal him. Beneath the shade of anaged mulberry tree, by a cistern of water which flowed over at a rudelip of stone, and ran away to irrigate the plot of ground in which thecottage stood, sat his mother at her spinning-wheel. In a corner ofthe garden his father and old Peter were digging. This little bit ofland, with a small orchard by its side, was the principal, though notthe sole, support of his parents. In addition to the produce of hismother's spinning, her skill in needle-work brought in something; andold Noble had long ago taught himself to make cabbage nets, twistfishing lines, and turn hackle into flies, with little thought thatsuch pastime should one day help him to buy bread. However, so manypersons of ingenuity had fallen into poverty in these times, that afar walk might be taken, and a long stand might be made in a dullmarket-place, or at the corner of an inn yard, before a purchaser forsuch trifles could be found; indeed a sale for any thing beyondnecessaries could not be reckoned on.
As Martin looked down upon this scene of repose, as he saw his parentssafe, in health, and not subdued by circumstances, he could not butfeel that the wind of adversity had been tempered to them by that Godwhose terrible blasts were abroad; that a plank was thrown to them inthe storm; that the Father of all mercies was their refuge, and theshadow of his almighty wings was over them for comfort and for good. Apang came across him, as he thought upon his brother. A vista ofcalamity and war now opened before his startled fancy; but genuinephilanthropy, and the love of true freedom, no less than hisattachment to the altar and the throne, gave a call to his spirit towhich he could not be deaf, and which he would not disobey. However,he turned from all vain and dark forebodings to the contemplation ofpresent happiness. It was a hallowed bliss to be again near those dearparents who had from his cradle loved and cherished him. Deep-feltpleasure is ever akin to melancholy; and thus it was, that, fromexcess of happiness, Martin could almost have wept, as he went downstairs, and freely did so as he felt his mother's arms about his neck,and her kiss upon his cheek; but such tears are dried as soon as shed.
The morning rites were performed by his father with the sameimpressive tones, and the same hallowed composure, that he couldremember as having often soothed the little troubles of his boyhood,and which did now again the like office, and calmed the strong butnatural emotions of the man.
After their plain wholesome breakfast of milk and bread, Martin tookhis father aside, and made known to him the resolution which he hadlast night formed of immediately joining some division of the royalarmy as a volunteer. He entreated him not to utter one syllable ofobjection or remonstrance, and not to feel any apprehension of hisever being brought into a distressing situation, as regarded Cuthbert.They should never meet, nor in any way be personally opposed to eachother; and the circumstance of his having one son in arms against theKing made it necessary that another should more truly represent hisfather, by being enrolled among the royal forces. He stated both hisintentions and his means of carrying them into effect,--at the sametime inviting the best advice which his father could offer as to themanner of his proceeding, and the leader whom he should join.
It was not without grief and reluctance that old Noble consented to beso immediately deprived of his gallant boy; and the mother was almostinconsolable at the thought of so early and sad a separation: but thatsame evening Martin took his departure for Bristol, that he mightsecure such baggage as he had brought with him from Italy, and equiphimself for the camp.