TEN YEARS LATER--1790.
There is no country, however flat and uninteresting, which does not
respond to the glory of a real English summer's day.
The moated Grange, near Louth, was no exception to the rule. The moat
itself had been drained, and was now covered with turf, and studded with
countless daisies, with their golden eyes looking up into the blue,
clear sky.
Even the old-fashioned, low-roofed house, with its many gables and the
heron carved in stone over the porch, was laughing in the sunshine; and
on the well-kept lawn was a group, on which the eye of an artist might
have loved to linger.
A sweet and gracious mother was seated on a low garden bench with a baby
on her knee, while on either side stood two children--twin boys--who
were the joy and pride of her heart.
The little sister of ten months old had come to put the last jewel in
the crown of Griselda Travers's happy wifehood and motherhood.
The place where she sat was under the shadow of a row of tall whispering
poplars, which made the pleasant "sound as of falling showers," as the
summer breeze stirred the leaves. At the back of the house was a
plantation of fir-trees, where the turtle-doves were cooing, and the
murmur as of "far seas" in the dark topmost branches made a low
undertone of melody.
In the old-fashioned garden, or pleasaunce to the right of the house,
bees were humming at their work, and gay butterflies dancing over the
lavender-bushes and large trees of York and Lancaster roses, which made
the air sweet with their fragrance.
A wide gravel-path divided the pleasaunce, and there a pair of happy
lovers were pacing, forgetful of everything but their own happiness.
Presently one of Griselda's boys left her side, and ran across the grass
to a little gate which led from a copse, and bounded the lawn on that
side.
"Father!" the boy exclaimed; and his brother followed him, echoing the
joyful cry.
Griselda also rose, and went across the lawn with the same graceful
movement which had distinguished her in the Bath assemblies of old.
"I hope the gig came to meet the coach, dear husband?" she said. "It
must have been a hot walk from Louth."
He put his arm round her, and kissed the mother first, and then the
little daughter, of whom he was so proud, saying:
"Yes; I left the gig at the corner; and walked across the field. How
delightful the country seems after London! and as to the boys, they seem
in rude health. Have you taken care of your mother, William and Alex?"
"Yes; and we have said our Latin verbs every day, and done our parsing
and spelling out of the grammars and dictionaries," said Will.
"I hate spelling," said Alex; "but I love sums."
"That's good. Your godfather was asking how you got on with that branch
of your education. Your godfather is a great man, boys; you may be proud
to feel he is your godfather."
"Was it very charming at Slough, Leslie?"
"It was, indeed; and wonderful! 'The sweeping of the sky' is a nightly
business; and the wife is as much devoted to it as the sister. You must
take the journey to London ere long, my dearest, and see for yourself.
The twenty-foot Newtonian telescope is a marvel; and there sits
Caroline, as of old, writing down calculations and observations. I went
to bed at one o'clock; but even on that night William Herschel had
discovered four or five new nebulae."
"And he is now quite a great man?"
"Great in everyone's eyes but his own. Royal favour has not turned his
head, nor Caroline's either. She has sent your boys a case of little
mathematical instruments, and she says you are to go to Slough next
visit I pay."
"And little Phyllis, too, father?"
"Yes, when she is old enough. So you have two happy people still here, I
see?"
"Yes. Brian got an extra week's holiday from the law office at Bristol;
and I knew you would not mind. Mother is so pleased to have him here."
At this moment Brian Bellis and Norah awoke to the fact that they were
not the only people in that flowery garden; and Nora, now a beautiful
girl of nineteen, leaving Brian's arm, came springing to her
brother-in-law, with a face flushed with welcome, to receive her
accustomed kiss.
Then from the low French window at the side of the house Mrs. Travers
appeared, and greeted her son with a tender welcome.
Mrs. Travers took the baby from her mother's arms, saying:
"She is too heavy for you, my dear; she grows such a great girl. Is not
Phyllis glad to see father safely back again?"
The baby cooed as a sign of contentment, but whether this was the result
of the contemplation of her silver rattle, or of her father's return,
may not be told.
Then the happy party turned into the house, and Leslie drew from the
wide pocket of his blue coat with brass buttons a sheaf of letters.
He singled one from the rest, and said gravely:
"I got the letters at Louth. This tells sad news. It has been written
for Amelia Graves."
"Dear Graves!" Griselda exclaimed; "what does she say?" She took the
letter, written in a round clerkly hand from her husband, and read:
"DEAR AND HONOURED SIR:
"This leaves me well; but I have to inform you my poor mistress
departed this life yesterday. I prayed by her, and asked the
Lord to pardon her. Honoured sir--and you, dear Madam
Travers--that bad man, Sir Maxwell Danby, behaved so ill, that
she had to leave his home. He is gone to foreign parts again,
and let us hope never to return. He treated my poor mistress
shameful, and she was made miserable. We went to Bath for last
season, but she was too ill to enter into gaieties, and sank
into a sad state--mind and body.
"I send my duty to you, honoured sir, and the dear lady, your
wife, and remain,
"Your humble servant,
"AMELIA GRAVES."
Griselda's sweet face became very grave as she read this letter. Then
she folded it and returned it to her husband.
"I should like Graves to come and live with us, and take care of her in
her old age. Might I ask her?"
Then Leslie bent over his wife, and kissing her, said:
"I knew that would be your wish. I will write by next post to Bath, and
bid her come hither. She was good to you when you were in trouble, and
won my lasting gratitude."
"Poor Lady Betty! Oh that she ever was so blind--so foolish--as to marry
that dreadful man! I never see his name without a shudder!"
The news this letter contained had brought back to the happy wife and
mother many sad memories; but the past did not long cloud her present.
As she put her hand into her husband's arm that evening when the
children were asleep, and no sound broke the silence as they paced the
garden walk, she stopped suddenly, and said:
"Dearest, you have made my life so beautiful. You have taught me so
much. You said once--do you remember?--you would die for me, or live for
me! You have lived for me, and I----"
"And you have kept your promise, sweetheart," he said. "Do you remember
that promise?"
"Yes," she said. "It has been so easy to keep it. All joy and pleasure
to give you what you asked for that day in the Abbey church."
So, with interchange of loving words, the husband and wife saw the
shadows of the night steal over the woods and far-stretching level
country round their home.
The lovers were also enjoying their twilight walk, and talking, as
lovers will, of the bliss of the future they are to spend together.
A happy dream is that dream of young love; but is there anything in this
mutable life more beautiful than the deepening of that young love into
the serene and blessed sympathy of a husband and wife who, through the
changes and chances of ten years, can feel, as Leslie and Griselda felt,
more secure in each other's loyalty and truth as time rolls on; who can
feel that if all other earthly props and joys vanish, their love will
remain, that sorrow is shared and grief softened, that all good will be
intensified and all happiness doubled, because felt by _two_, who are
yet _one_ in the highest sense?
This is the true marriage, which has been taken as a type of the highest
and the holiest union. Why is it that it is so often missed? Why does
the reality of love so often flee away, and only a ghost-like shadow and
pale semblance remain?
There is a solution of this problem, but it is not for me to give it
here. The hearts of many who read the story of Leslie and Griselda will,
if they are true and honest, answer the question each one for herself,
and it may be with tears and unavailing regret, yes! and of
self-reproach also, that this full cup of bliss has never reached their
lips, but that the honeyed sweetness of the elixir of youth has, long
ere old age is reached, been as an exceeding bitter cup given them to
drink!
As the husband and wife of whom I write, went into their peaceful home,
they looked up at the sky where the stars were shining in all their
majesty, and their thoughts turned to their friends who were far away,
and probably making their accustomed preparation for sweeping the sky.
Many and many a summer night has come and gone since then; many and many
eyes have been raised to the star-lit sky, and keen intellects and
abstruse calculations have brought to light much for which the great
astronomer, William Herschel, prepared the way. But I doubt if even
amongst them all has been found a more single-hearted and reverent
contemplation of the mysteries of that illimitable space which he thus
describes:
"This method of viewing the heavens seems to throw them into a new kind
of light. They are now seen to resemble a luxuriant garden which
contains the greatest variety of productions in different flourishing
beds, and one advantage we may at least reap from it is, that we can, as
it were, extend the image of our experience to an immense duration. For
is it not almost the same thing whether we live successively to witness
the germination, blooming, foliage, fecundity, fading, withering and
corruption of a plant, or whether a vast number of specimens selected
from every stage through which the planet passes in the course of its
existence be brought at once to our view?"
This is a finely-expressed and profound thought, and the mind which
originated it must indeed win our admiration and respect.
Surely the house in King Street, Bath, and the association with it, may
well consecrate it as a shrine which all who appreciate true and honest
labour, and brave struggles with difficulties, should visit. The
discovery of the planet Uranus in that house was a grand achievement.
The light thrown on the mysteries of double stars, and of the perpetual
motion and marvellous evolutions of the milky way was scarcely a less
memorable step towards the better understanding of the star-depths
which mortals may well scan with bated breath, so infinite is the
infinite! But it almost seems to me that pilgrims to the house where the
great astronomer and musician lived and worked, may do well to think
most of the faithful performance of duty, the unflinching perseverance,
the courageous struggle with untold difficulties which was carried on by
William and Caroline Herschel while the Bath season was at its height,
and the butterflies of fashion and the votaries of pleasure danced and
chattered, and sang and made merry in the assemblies, where a hundred
years ago so many people whose names are now forgotten, flocked in the
pursuit of health and amusement! There will always be these contrasts
sharply defined. The bees and the butterflies go forth together over the
same flowery pastures. There are countless hidden workers, unknown to
fame, who yet do their part--if a humble part, in life--in the place
appointed them by God. But there are some who by force of an indomitable
will and the highest gifts of intellect and culture leave behind them a
name which to all time shall be honoured, and Bath may think herself
favoured that in the long list of distinguished men and women who have
frequented that fair city and Queen of the West, she may write in
letters of gold the names of William Herschel and his sister Caroline.
DUELLING ON CLAVERTON DOWN.
In the year 1778 many foreign nobles made Bath their residence. The
Viscount du Barre and two ladies of great beauty and accomplishments,
and Count Rice, an Irish gentleman who had borne arms in the service of
France, lived in the Royal Crescent.
A quarrel at cards between Du Barre and Rice resulted in an immediate
challenge--given and accepted. At one o'clock in the morning of November
18, 1778, a coach was procured from the Three Tuns in Stall Street, and
Claverton Down was reached at day-dawn.
"Each man," says a contemporary, "was armed with two pistols and a
sword, the ground being marked out by the seconds. Du Barre fired
first, and lodged a ball in Count Rice's thigh, which penetrated to the
bone. Count Rice fired, and wounded Du Barre in the breast. Afterwards
the pistols were thrown away, and the combatants took to their swords.
"The Viscount du Barre fell, and cried out, 'Je vous demande ma vie!' to
which Count Rice answered, 'Je vous la donne!' and in a few moments Du
Barre fell back and expired. Count Rice was brought with difficulty to
Bath, being dangerously wounded; and was found guilty, at the Coroner's
inquest held on the Viscount's body, of manslaughter.
"Du Barre's body was left exposed on Claverton Down the whole day, and
was subsequently buried in Bathampton Churchyard. Count Rice recovered;
he was tried at Taunton for murder, and acquitted. He died in Spain in
1809. A stone slab in a wall skirting Claverton Down marks the spot
where Du Barre fell. The ivory hilt of the sword once belonging to Count
Rice is now attached to the City Seal in the town clerk's
office."--Condensed from R. E. Peach's "Rambles about Bath."
WORKS BY MRS. MARSHALL.
ON THE BANKS OF THE OUSE; or, Life in Olney a Hundred Years Ago.
"No better story than this has been written by Mrs.
Marshall."--_Guardian._
IN FOUR REIGNS: Recollections of Althea Allingham from George III. to
Victoria.
"A most charming tale of bygone days. The tone of the book is
eminently high and refined."--_Literary World._
UNDER THE MENDIPS: a Tale.
"One of Mrs. Marshall's charming stories, told with all the
wonted freshness and grace which characterize her
books."--_Westminster Review._
THE TOWER ON THE CLIFF.
"The old dead time lives once more in her pages."--_Saturday
Review._
THE MISTRESS OF TAYNE COURT.
IN THE EAST COUNTRY WITH SIR THOMAS BROWN, Kt.
"A singularly delightful and interesting work."--_Spectator._
MRS. WILLOUGHBY'S OCTAVE.
"We have seldom read anything more pathetic."--_Spectator._
IN COLSTON'S DAYS.
"Extremely well written."--_Morning Post._
CONSTANTIA CAREW: an Autobiography.
"Much superior to ordinary religious fiction."--_Spectator._
TWO SWORDS: a Tale of Old Bristol.
"The lesson of the book is excellent, and the story is
gracefully told."--_Literary World._
CHRISTABEL KINGSCOTE.
"As fascinating a tale, and as prettily told, as the reader can
wish for. We remember no book which we have more pleasure in
recommending."--_Athenaeum._
BRISTOL DIAMONDS; or, The Hotwells in the year 1773.
"Mrs. Marshall's stories are always first-rate."--_Church
Bells._
BENVENUTA; or, Rainbow Colours.
"A pleasant story of family life."--_Athenaeum._
DOROTHY'S DAUGHTERS: a Tale.
"This interesting and well-written volume."--_Record._
DAME ALICIA CHAMBERLAYNE: of Ravenshome, Gloucestershire.
"Most pleasant reading."--_Academy._
THE ROCHEMONTS: a Story of Three Homes.
"A pleasant and wholesome story."--_Scotsman._
HELEN'S DIARY; or, Thirty Years Ago.
MILLICENT LEGH: a Tale.
BROOK SILVERTONE, and THE LOST LILIES: Two Stories for Children.
"We can heartily recommend this attractive little volume. The
stories are genuine, life-like, and entertaining. The lessons
are skilfully interwoven with the narrative."--_Record._
VIOLET DOUGLAS; or, The Problems of Life.
"A pleasant, healthy story of English life, full of sound
religious teaching."--_Standard._
THE OLD GATEWAY; or, The Story of Agatha.
"It is pleasant and gracefully written, and Roland Bruce is a
character of no ordinary beauty."--_Guardian._
EDWARD'S WIFE; or, Hard Judgments. A Tale.
"This is a very charming" story, fresh, natural, and
touching."--_Christian Advocate._
JOB SINGLETON'S HEIR, and other Stories.
LADY ALICE; or, Two Sides of a Picture.
JOANNA'S INHERITANCE: a Story of Young Lives.
LIFE'S AFTERMATH: a Story of a Quiet People.
"The story is admirably told, and the interest well sustained
throughout. The descriptions of English scenery are in many
instances beautiful."--_Christian Observer._
A HISTORY OF FRANCE: Adapted from the French, for the use of English
Children.
NOW-A-DAYS; or, King's Daughters. A Tale.
"We have seldom met with a more pleasing specimen of what a
wholesome work of light literature should be."--_Record._
A LILY AMONG THORNS.
"This volume is clever, and very naturally written. It is a
book to read and to recommend."--_Watchman._
MRS. MAINWARING'S JOURNAL.
"Rarely have we come across a more touching volume. It appeals
to everyone who has the least feeling."--_John Bull._
HEIGHTS AND VALLEYS: a Tale.
BROTHERS AND SISTERS; or, True of Heart.
"The hopes and fears of a large family in a cathedral city are
drawn with much spirit. The dialogue is easy, and the tale
above the average."--_Guardian._
TALES BY MISS WINCHESTER.
PEARL OF THE SEA.
'A charming conception.'--_Saturday Review._
A CRIPPLED ROBIN.
'A pretty story, and there is fun as well as feeling in many of
the chapters.'--_Times._
A CITY VIOLET.
'Miss Winchester, whose power of delineating character is
giving her an honourable place among the writers of serious
fiction, has never done anything better than this.'--_Spectator._
A NEST OF SPARROWS.
'Miss Winchester not only writes with skill, but writes from
the heart, and with full knowledge of her subject. Her story is
most genuine, pathetic, without being sad.'--_Pall Mall
Gazette._
UNDER THE SHIELD. A Tale.
'We wish all religious stories were written in the same simple
and natural way. We can conceive no more healthy reading for
children.'--_Academy._
'We welcome with real pleasure another book by the author of "A
Nest of Sparrows." "Under the Shield" is to be noted for its
purity of tone and high aspirations.... There is true fun in
the book, too.'--_Athenaeum._
THE CABIN ON THE BEACH. A Tale.
'This tender story cannot fail to charm and delight the
young.'--_Guardian._
THE WAYSIDE SNOWDROP. A Tale.
'A bright flower indeed. With all her tenderness and grace Miss
Winchester narrates one of those pathetic stories of a poor
London waif that at once arouse the loving sympathy of
children.'--_Guardian._
CHIRPS FOR THE CHICKS.
'The book is worthy to be a nursery favourite.'--_Guardian._
'The merriest, most amusing, and infinitely the most rhythmical
book of poetry for young people produced this season.... Others
besides children may read the "Chirps" with pleasure and
amusement. The illustrations are very happy.'--_Standard._
RECENTLY PUBLISHED.
FOREST OUTLAWS; or, St. Hugh and the King. By the Rev. E. GILLIAT.
"Distinctly one of the very best books of the
season."--_Standard._
BELT AND SPUR: Stories of the Knights of Old.
"A very high-class gift-book of the spirit-stirring
kind."--_Spectator._
"A sort of boy Froissart with admirable illustrations."--_Pall
Mall Gazette._
THE CITY IN THE SEA: Stories of the Old Venetians.
"Very stirring are the tales of the long struggle between Genoa
and Venice ... boys will read with keen interest the desperate
battles between the rival fleets of galleys."--_Standard._
STORIES OF THE ITALIAN ARTISTS: from Vasari.
"The book is full of delightful reading, carefully chosen from
a rich treasury of curiosities."--_Spectator._
"Another very charming volume."--_Saturday Review._
BORDER LANCES: a Romance of the Northern Marches. By the Author of "Belt
and Spur."
"The book is a good one ... the illustrations are
excellent."--_Spectator._
FATHER ALDUR: the Story of a River. By A. GIBERNE.
"The nature of tides, the formation of clouds, the sources of
water, and other kindred subjects are discussed with much
freshness and charm."--_Saturday Review._
SUN, MOON, AND STARS: a Book on Astronomy for Beginners. By A. GIBERNE.
"Ought to have a place in village libraries and mechanics'
institutions; would also be welcome as a prize-book."--_Pall
Mall Gazette._
AMONG THE STARS; or, Wonderful Things in the Sky. By A. GIBERNE.
"We may safely predict that if it does not find the reader with
a taste for astronomy, it will leave him with
one."--_Knowledge._
THE WORLD'S FOUNDATIONS: Geology for Beginners. By A. GIBERNE.
"The exposition is clear, the style simple and
attractive."--_Spectator._
SUE; or, Wounded in Sport. By E. VINCENT BRITON, Author of 'Amyot
Brough.'
'We do not know when we have been so charmed as we are by this
modest volume.... Over and over again one is reminded of some
of George Eliot's best scenes in English country life; and
though it may seem exaggeration to say so, there are some
points in which Mr. Briton has surpassed George
Eliot.'--_Guardian._
AMYOT BROUGH. By E. VINCENT BRITON.
'With national pride we dwell on a beautiful English historical
novel ... this sweet unpretending story, with its pretty
engravings.'--_Academy._
A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE. Ridden, Written, and Illustrated by JOSEPH and
ELIZABETH PENNELL.
'The most wonderful shillingsworth that modern literature has
to offer.'--_Daily News._
AN ITALIAN PILGRIMAGE. By MRS. PENNELL.
'This charming book.'--_Academy._
EARLY FLEMISH ARTISTS, AND THEIR PREDECESSORS ON THE LOWER RHINE. By W.
M. CONWAY.
'An altogether admirable book.'--_Graphic._
THE ARTISTIC DEVELOPMENT OF REYNOLDS AND GAINSBOROUGH. By W. M. CONWAY.
'A contribution to the subject which no student can afford to
miss.' _Saturday Review._