SENT TO THE SPA
At the outset, though the pump room was full every morning and the
gardens and long room in the evening were well attended, the spa
lacked animation. The music pleased, the singers pleased, the coloured
lamps dangled in chains between the branches and pleased. Yet the
company was dull; there was little noise of conversation, and no mirth
or laughter; the family groups were not broken up; the people looked
at each other and walked round and round in silence; after the first
round or so, when they had seen all the dresses, the girls yawned and
wanted to sit down.
The master of the ceremonies exerted himself in vain. He had hoped so
much and promised so much that it was sad to see him standing in front
of the orchestra and vainly endeavouring to find couples for the
minuet. How should they dance a minuet when there were no leaders to
begin? And where were the gentlemen? Most of them were at the tavern
or the cockpit, drinking and cockfighting, and making bets. What was
the use of calling a country dance when there were none to stand up
except ladies and old men? Mr. Prappet, in a blue silk coat and
embroidered waistcoat, hat under arm, and flourishing his legs as a
fencing master flourishes his arms, fell into despondency. "I make no
progress, Mr. Pentecrosse," he said. "I cannot begin with the beaux of
the town; they are nautical or rustical, to tell the truth, and they
are beneath the gentry of the county. If I begin with them none of the
gentry will condescend either to dance with them or to follow them,
and so the character of the assembly will be gone. We must obey the
laws of society. We want rank, sir. We want a leader. We want two or
three people of fashion, otherwise these county families, none of whom
will yield precedence to any other, and will not endure that one
should stand up before the other, will never unbend. They are jealous.
Give me a leader--a nobleman--a baronet--a lady of quality--and you
shall see how they will fall in. First, the nobility, according to
rank; after them, the gentry; then the town degrees must be observed.
But, in order to observe degrees, sir, we must have rank among us. At
present we are a mob. An assembly in the polite world should be like
the English Constitution, which, Mr. Pentecrosse, consists of Lords
and Commons--Ladies, and the wives and daughters of commoners."
To me it was amusing only to see the people in their fine dresses
marching round and round while the music played, trailing their skirts
on the floor, swinging their hoops, and handling their fans; for the
lack of young men, talking to the clergy from the cathedrals and the
colleges, and casting at each other glances of envy if one was better
dressed, or of scorn when one was worse dressed than themselves.
"As for the men, Jack," said Captain Crowle, "I keep looking about me.
I try the pump room in the morning, the ordinary at dinner, the
taverns after dinner. My lad, there is not one among them all who is
fit to be mated with our Molly. Gentlemen, are they? I like not the
manner of these gentlemen. They are mostly young, but drink hard
already. If their faces are red and swollen at twenty-five, what will
they be at forty? My girl shall marry none of them. Nor shall she
dance with them. She shall stay at home."
In fact, during the first week or two after the opening of the spa,
Molly remained at home and was not seen in the long room or in the
gardens.
The town was nearly full, many of the visitors having to put up with
mean lodgings in the crazy old courts, of which there are so many in
Lynn, when the first arrival from London took place. It was that of a
clergyman named Benjamin Purdon, Artium Magister, formerly of Trinity
College, Cambridge. He was a man of insignificant presence, his figure
being small and thin, but finely dressed. His head was almost hidden
by a full ecclesiastical wig. Apparently he was between forty and
fifty years of age; he looked about him and surveyed the company with
an air of superiority, as if he had been a person of rank. He spoke
with a loud, rather a high voice; his face was pale and his hands,
which he displayed, were as white as any woman's, on one finger he
wore a large ring with a stone on which were carved three graces, or
Greek goddesses, standing in a row. To some the ring was a
stumbling-block, as hardly in accordance with the profession of a
divine. "Art," however, he was wont to say, "knows nothing of Eve's
apple and its consequences. Art is outside religion;" and so forth.
Fustian stuff, it seems to me, looking back; but at that time we were
carried away by the authority of the man.
He came to us down the river by a tilt boat from Cambridge, and
accepted, contentedly, quite a humble lodging, barely furnished with a
chair and a flock bed. "Humility becomes a divine," he said, in a
high, authoritative voice. "The room will serve. A coal fire and an
open window will remove the mustiness. Who am I that I should demand
the luxuries of Lucullus? The Cloth should daily offer an example. We
must macerate the flesh." He was thin, but he certainly practised not
maceration. "We must subdue the body. To him who meditates a hovel
becomes a palace. There is an ordinary, you say, daily at the
'Crown'--At two shillings? For the better subjugation of the carnal
appetite it should have been one and sixpence. Nevertheless, I have
heard of the green goslings of Lynn. Perhaps I shall now be privileged
to taste them. There were excellent ruffs and reeves when I was at
college that came to the market-place from the fens in the May time.
You have a Portuguese trade I am told--in wine, I hope, otherwise we
are not likely to get anything fit for a gentleman to drink. It is,
indeed, little that I take; were it not for my infirmities, I should
take none. Your port, I hope, is matured. More sickness is caused by
new wine than by any other cause. Give me wine of twenty years--but
that is beyond hope in this place. If it is three, four, or five years
old, I shall be fortunate beyond my expectation." He did not say all
these fine things at once, or to one person; but by bits to his
brother clergyman, the vicar of St. Margaret's; to Captain Crowle, to
the mayor, to the landlady of the Crown Inn, to the ladies in the long
room. "You see me as I am, a poor scholar, a humble minister of the
church--_servus servorum_, to use the style and title of the Pope; one
who despises wealth." Yet his cassock was of thick silk and his bands
were laced. "I live in London because I can there find, when I want
it, a lectureship for my preaching, and a library--that of Sion
College--for my reading, study, meditation, and writing. I leave
behind me, unfinished, my work--my _magnum opus_--forgive the
infirmity natural to man of desiring to live in the memory of men. I
confess that I look forward with pleasure to future fame: my 'History
of the Early Councils' will be a monument--if I may be permitted so to
speak of it--a monument of erudition. I come here by order of my
physician. Ladies, this sluggish body, which gives us so much trouble,
must be kept in health (as well as in subjection) if we would perform
the tasks laid down for us. The waters which I am about to drink will,
under Providence, drive away those symptoms which have made my
friends, rather than myself, anxious. As for me, what cause have I for
anxiety? Why should I not be ready to lay down pen and book, and teach
no more?"
He was, perhaps--though we must allow a good deal to his
profession--too fond of preaching. He preached in the morning at the
pump room. Holding a glass of water to the light, he discoursed on the
marvels of Providence in concealing sovereign remedies under the guise
of simple water, such as one may find in any running brook to all
appearance, and yet so potent. He would preach in the gardens. He
would show the piety of his character even when taking supper--a cold
chicken and a bottle of Lisbon--in an alcove beside the dancing
platform. In this way he rapidly acquired a great reputation, and drew
after him every day a following of ladies; there are always ladies who
desire nothing so much as pious talk on matters of religion with one
who has a proper feeling for the sex, and is courteous and
complimentary, deferent and assiduous, as well as learned, pious, and
eloquent. The good man, for his part, was never tired of conversing
with these amiable ladies, especially with the younger sort; but I
believe there were jealousies among them, each desiring the whole
undivided man for herself, which is not uncommon even among ladies of
the strictest profession in religion.
It was presently learned that Mr. Purdon had offered to take the
services at St. Nicholas for a few weeks in order to enable the curate
to attend the bedside of a parent. He undertook this duty without
asking for any fee or pay, a fact which greatly increased his
reputation. He continued the morning services, now held in a
well-filled church, and delivered a sermon on Sunday morning. Never
before had the good people who sat in the church heard discourses of
so much eloquence, such close reasoning, such unexpected
illustrations; with passages so tender and so pathetic. The women
wept; the men cleared their throats; the sermons of his reverence drew
after him the whole company, except those who spent their Sunday
morning at the tavern, and also excepting the clergymen of the
cathedrals and the colleges. These, for some reason, looked upon him
with distrust.
Among those who thus regarded him was the vicar of St. Margaret's, the
Rev. Mark Gentle. He was, to begin with, the very opposite of the
other in all respects. He lived simply, drinking no wine; he was a
silent man, whose occasional words were received with consideration;
he was a great scholar, with a fine library. His discourses were not
understood by the congregation, but they were said to be full of
learning. He did not make himself agreeable to the ladies; he never
talked of religion; he never spoke of his own habits or his own
learning. He was a tall spare man with a thin face and a long nose, of
the kind which is said to accompany a sense of humour; and he had
sometimes a curious light in his eye like the flash of a light in the
dark.
"The Reverend Benjamin Purdon," he said, with such a flash, "interests
me greatly. He is a most learned person--indeed, he says so, himself.
I quoted a well-known passage of a Greek tragedy to him yesterday, and
he said that his Hebrew he left behind him when he came into the
country. We must not think that this proves anything. A man's ear may
be deceived. I offered him the use of my library, but he declined.
That proves nothing, either, because he may not wish to read at
present. I hear that the women weep when he preaches; and that proves
nothing. Sir, I should like the opinion of Sion College, which is a
collection of all the rectors and vicars of the city churches, as to
the learning of this ecclesiastic. He is, doubtless, all that he
proclaims himself. But, after all, that means nothing. We shall
probably learn more about him. Whatever we learn will, we may
confidently expect, redound to his credit, and increase his
reputation."
This he said in my presence, to my father. "I know not," he replied,
"how much this learned theologian professes, but humility is not one
of his virtues. I offered, meeting him in the Herb Market yesterday,
to show him the school as a venerable monument erected for the sake of
learning three hundred years ago. 'Pedagogue!' he answered. 'Know thy
place!' So he swept on his way, swelling under his silken cassock."
Captain Crowle, however, with many others, was greatly taken with him.
"Jack," he said, "the London clergyman shames our rusticity. Learning
flows from him with every word he speaks. He makes the women cry. He
is full of pious sentiment. If we have many visitors so edifying, this
discovery is like to prove for all of us the road to heaven as well as
the means of wealth."
Alas! the road to heaven seldom, so far as I understand, brings the
pilgrim within reach of the means of wealth. But this the captain
could not understand, because he had been amassing wealth for his
ward, not for himself, and therefore knew not the dangers of the
pursuit.
The Reverend Benjamin Purdon was only a forerunner. He was followed by
the rest of the company--the delectable company--brought together for
our destruction. I would not willingly anticipate the sequel of these
arrivals among us, but there are moments when I am fain to declare a
righteous wrath. As for revenge--but it would be idle to speak of
revenge. When a man has taken all that he can devise or procure in the
way of revenge--bodily pain, ruin, loss of position, exposure,
everything--the first injury remains untouched. This cannot be undone;
nor can the injury be atoned by any suffering or any punishment.
Revenge, again, grows more hungry by what should satisfy it; revenge
is never satisfied. Revenge has been forbidden to man because he
cannot be trusted. It is the Lord's. In this case it was the Lord who
avenged our cause, and, I believe, turned the injury into a blessing,
and made our very loss a ladder that led to heaven.
A day or two after Mr. Purdon's arrival came a carriage and four
containing a very fine lady indeed, with her maid and her man. She
drove to the Crown, the people all looking after her. A large coat of
arms was emblazoned on the door of her carriage, with a coronet and
supporters; her man was dressed in a noble livery of pale green with
scarlet epaulettes. A little crowd gathered round the door of the
Crown while the footman held the door open and the lady spoke with the
landlord.
"Sir," she said, inclining her head graciously and smiling upon the
crowd, "I have been directed to ask for thy good offices in procuring
a lodging. I am a simple person, but a body must have cleanliness and
room to turn about."
"Madam," said the landlord, "there is but one lodging in the town
which is worthy of your ladyship. I have, myself, across the
market-place, a house which contains three or four rooms. These I
would submit to your ladyship's consideration."
This was an excellent beginning. The lady took the rooms at the rent
proposed and without haggling; there were two bedrooms, for herself
and her maid, and one room in which she could sit; the man found
lodgings elsewhere. It appeared from his statement that his mistress
was none other than the Lady Anastasia, widow of the late Lord
Langston, and sister of the living Earl of Selsey. It was, therefore,
quite true, as Sam Semple had announced, that persons of quality were
coming to the spa.
The Lady Anastasia, at this time was about twenty-six years of age, or
perhaps thirty, a handsome woman still, though no longer in the first
flush of her beauty. Her dress, as well as her manner, proclaimed the
woman of fashion. I confess that, as a simple sailor, one who could
not pretend to be a gentleman and had never before seen a woman of
rank, much less conversed with one, I was quite ready, after she had
honoured me with a few words of condescension and kindness, to become
her slave. She could bear herself with the greatest dignity and even
severity, as certain ladies discovered who presumed upon her kindness
and assumed familiarity. But while she could freeze with a frown and
humiliate with a look, she could, and did, the next moment subdue the
most obdurate, and disarm the most resentful with her gracious smile
and with her voice, which was the softest, the most musical and the
most moving that you can imagine. She had been a widow for two or
three years, and, having now put off the weeds, she was rejoicing at
the freedom which the world allows to a young widow of fortune and of
rank.
You may be sure that the news of her arrival was speedily spread
through the town. On the first night Lady Anastasia remained in her
lodgings; but the ringers of St. Margaret's gave her a welcome with
the bells, and in the morning the horns saluted her with a tune and a
flourish under her windows. To the ringers she sent her thanks, with
money for a supper and plenty of beer, and to the horns she sent out a
suitable present of money, also with thanks.
Later on, a deputation, consisting of the mayor in his robes and his
gold chain, accompanied by the aldermen in their gowns, the vicar in
his cassock and gown, the doctor in his best velvet coat and his
biggest wig, and Captain Crowle in his Sunday suit of black cloth,
waited on the Lady Anastasia. They marched along the street from the
town hall, preceded by the beadle in his green coat with brass buttons
and laced hat, carrying the borough mace, all to do honour to this
distinguished visitor.
They were received by the lady reclining on the sofa. Beside her stood
her maid in a white apron and a white cap. At the door stood her man
in his green livery--very fine. As for the Lady Anastasia's dress, I
will attempt on another occasion a more particular description.
Suffice it to say that it was rich and splendid. The reception which
she accorded to the deputation was most gracious and condescending, in
this respect surpassing anything that they had expected. They looked,
indeed, for the austerity and dignity of rank, and were received by
the affability which renders rank wherein it is found, admired and
respected. Indeed, whatever I shall have to relate concerning this
lady, it must be acknowledged that she possessed the art of attracting
all kinds of people, of compelling their submission to her slightest
wishes and of commanding their respectful affection. So much I must
concede.
The mayor bade her welcome to the spa. "Madam," he said, "this town
until yesterday was but a seaport, and we ourselves for the most part
merchants and sailors. We are not people of fashion; we do not call
ourselves courtiers; but you will find us honest. And we hope that you
will believe in our honesty when we venture, with all respect, to
declare ourselves greatly honoured by this visit of your ladyship."
"Indeed, worshipful sir, and reverend sir--and you, gentlemen, I am
grateful for your kind words. I am here only in the pursuit of health.
I want nothing more, believe me, but to drink your sovereign
waters--of which my physician speaks most highly--and when my health
allows me, to attend your church."
"We hope to offer your ladyship more than the pump room," the mayor
continued. "We have devised, in our humble way, rooms for the
entertainment of the company with music and gardens, and we hope to
have an assembly for dancing in the long room. They are not such
entertainments as your ladyship is accustomed to adorn, but such as
they are, we shall be deeply honoured if you will condescend to join
them. You will find the gentry, and their ladies, of the county and
others not unworthy of your ladyship's acquaintance."
"Sir, I accept your invitation with great pleasure. These gaieties
are, indeed unexpected. I look forward, gentlemen, to making the
acquaintance, before many days, of your ladies as well."
So she rose and dropped a curtsey, while her man threw open the door
and the deputation withdrew.
The doctor remained behind.
"Madam," he said, "you have been ordered--advised--by your physician
to try the waters of our spa. Permit me, as the only physician of the
town, an unworthy member of that learned college, to take charge of
your health during your stay. Your ladyship will allow me to feel your
pulse. Humph! It beats strong--a bounding pulse--as we of the
profession say. A bounding pulse. To be sure your ladyship is in the
heyday of life, with youth and strength. A bounding pulse. Some of my
brethren might be alarmed as at febrile indications; they would bleed
you--even _ad plenum rivum_--forgive the Latin. For my own part I
laugh at these precautions. I find in the strength of the pulse
nothing but the ardour of youth. I see no necessity for reduction of
strength by blood letting. Your ladyship will perhaps detail the
symptoms for which this visit to the spa was ordered."
The lady obeyed.
"These symptoms," said the doctor, "are grave. As yet they are
menacing only. Nature has given warning. Nature opens her book so that
we who know her language may read. We meet her warnings by sharp
action. Your ladyship will, therefore, while continuing the course
recommended by my learned brother, take one glass of the water daily;
in the morning, before breakfast, fasting. Each dose must contain
seven ounces and six drachms. I shall have the honour to visit your
ladyship daily, and we will regulate the treatment according to the
operation of the water."
"And must I give up the innocent pleasures offered me by your friends,
doctor? Surely, you will not be so cruel."
"By no means, madam. Partake of all--of all--in moderation. Cards are
good, if you like them. Dancing, if you like it--with your symptoms
you must, above all things, nourish the body and keep the mind in
cheerfulness."
The doctor withdrew and proceeded to relate to the pump room some
particulars, with embellishments, of his interview with the Lady
Anastasia.
"Nothing," he said, "can be imagined more gracious than her manner. It
is at once dignified and modest. 'I trust myself entirely to your
hands,' she said. What an example to patients of lower rank! 'I rely
entirely on your skill and knowledge,' she added. It should be a
lesson for all. I confess that it is gratifying even though the
compliment was not undeserved, and the confidence is not misplaced. We
may look for her ladyship in the long room this evening. I hope to
present to her many of the ladies of the company. It is a great thing
for the visitors and patients of the spa, that this accession of rank
and fashion has arrived. Her beauty will prove more attractive to the
gentlemen than the cockpit and the tavern; her manners and her dress
will be the admiration of the ladies. She will lead in the dance, she
will be queen of the spa. The widow of the right honourable the Lord
Langston, the daughter and the sister of the right honourable the Earl
of Selsey"--he rolled out the titles as if he could not have too much
of them or too many--"has come among us. We will restore her to health
by means of our spa; she will instruct our young folk in the manners
of the polite world."
In the evening the lady came to the long room soon after the music
commenced. Mr. Prappet, bowing low, invited her to honour the evening
by dancing a minuet. He presented a gentleman, the son of a Norfolk
squire, who, with many blushes, being still young, led out this lady,
all jewels, silk, ribbons, and patches, and with such grace as he
could command, performed the stately dance of the fashionable
assembly.
[Illustration: "HE PRESENTED A GENTLEMAN, THE SON OF A NORFOLK
SQUIRE."]
This done, the master of the ceremonies presented another gentleman,
and her ladyship condescended to a second dance--after which she
retired and sat down. The first gentleman then danced with another
lady; the second gentleman succeeded him, and dance followed dance.
Mr. Prappet presented to Lady Anastasia those of the ladies who
belonged to the gentry, and she was presently surrounded by a court or
company, with whom she discoursed pleasantly and graciously. The spa
had found a leader; the assembly was no longer frigid and constrained;
everybody talked and everybody laughed; the family groups were broken
up; none of the younger gentlemen deserted the assembly for the
cockpit; and when the country dance began and Lady Anastasia led,
dancing down the middle, taking hands and freely mixing with ladies
who had no pretensions to family, being perhaps the daughters of
merchants, and those in Lynn itself, the barriers were broken down,
and without setting themselves apart on account of family pride, the
whole company gave itself up to pleasure. When the music ceased, there
was a run upon the supper tables, and you could hear nothing but the
drawing of corks, the clicking of knives and forks, the music of
pleasant talk, and the laughter of girls. When, at midnight, the Lady
Anastasia called for her chair, a dozen young gentlemen sprang up to
escort her home, walking beside the chair to her lodgings, and bowing
low as she ran up the steps of her house.
The next arrival from London was a person of less consequence. He was
quite an old gentleman, who was brought, it appeared, by easy stages
in a post-chaise. The roughness of the road, especially towards the
end, had shaken him to such an extent that he was unable even to get
out of the chaise, and was carried into the house, where they found
him a lodging and put him to bed. His man told the people that this
was Sir Harry Malyns, a baronet and country gentleman, whose life was
wholly devoted to the pleasures of town. Those who had seen the
withered old anatomy carried out of his carriage laughed at the
thought of this ancient person still devoted to the pleasures of the
town. "Nay," said the varlet, grinning, "but wait till you see him
dressed. Wait till he has passed through my hands. You think he is at
his last gasp. Indeed, I thought so myself when I gave him his sack
posset and put him to bed, but he will recover. Sir Harry is not so
old but he can still bear some fatigues." And, indeed, you may imagine
the surprise of those who had seen him the day before, when, about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Sir Harry came out of the house and
walked along the street. In place of a decrepit old man they saw the
most gallant and the most bravely dressed beau that you can imagine.
He appeared from the back and from either side--where his face was not
visible--a young gentleman in the height of fashion. To be sure there
was a certain unsteadiness of gait, and if his foot struck against an
uneven piece of pavement you might perceive his knees knocking
together and his legs beginning to tremble. But he rallied bravely,
and went on. He carried his hat under his arm, a coloured cane dangled
from his right wrist, his left hand carried a gold snuffbox with a
lady painted on the outside. He walked with an affected step, such as
we call mincing, and when he came to the pump room he entered it upon
his toes, with his knees bent and his arms extended. For an example of
the manners which mean nothing but affectation and pretence, there was
no one at the spa who could compare with old Sir Harry.
The pump room was tolerably full of people who came in the forenoon to
talk. Sir Harry, pretending not to observe the curiosity with which he
was regarded, introduced himself to a gentleman by means of his
snuffbox. "Sir," he said, "have we any company at the spa?" He looked
round the room as if disdainfully. "Fine women, of course, we have.
Norfolk is famous for fine women and fat turkeys; but as for company?"
"Sir, we have many of the country gentry of Norfolk and Lincolnshire;
we have divines from the cathedral cities, and scholars from
Cambridge."
"But of company--such as a gentleman may call company?"
"Why, sir," said the other, himself a plain gentleman of Norfolk, "if
you are not satisfied with what you see, you had better find some
other place for your exalted society."
"Pray, sir, forgive me. I am but recently arrived from London. No
doubt the assembly is entirely composed of good families. I am myself
but a country gentleman and a simple baronet. I used the word company
in a sense confined to town."
"Well, sir, since you are no better than the rest of us, I may tell
you that we have among us a certain lady of rank--the Lady Anastasia
Langston----"
"Pray, sir, pray--excuse me. Not a 'certain' Lady Anastasia. If you
have the Lady Anastasia, you have, let me tell you, the very pearl of
highest fashion. If she is here, you are indeed fortunate. One woman
of her beauty, grace, wealth, rank, and goodness is enough to make the
fortune of the spa. Bath worships her; Tunbridge prays for her return;
there will be lamentation when it is known that she has deserted these
places for the newly discovered waters of Lynn."
"Indeed, sir, we ought to feel greatly honoured."
"You ought, sir. Your ladies of Norfolk will learn more from her, as
concerns the great world and the world of fashion, in a week than they
could learn at the assembly of Norwich in a year. The Lady Anastasia
carries about with her the air which stamps the woman of the highest
fashion. She walks like a goddess, she talks like an angel, and she
smiles like a nymph--if there are such nymphs, woodland or ocean
nymphs--who wear hoops, put on patches, build up headdresses, and
brandish fans."
There was another whose arrival from London caused no ringing of bells
and salutations by the horns. This was a certain Colonel Lanyon, who
wore the king's scarlet, having served and received promotion in the
king's armies. He was about forty years of age; a big, blustering
fellow who rolled his shoulders as he walked along and took the wall
of everybody. He began, as he continued, by spending his time in the
card room, at the cockpit, at the badger drawing, bull baiting, horse
racing, cudgel playing--wherever sport was going on or betting to be
made. He drank the hardest, he played the deepest, he swore the
loudest, he was always ready to take offence. Yet he was tolerated and
even liked, because he was good company. He sang songs, he told
anecdotes, he had seen service in the West Indies and in many other
places, he had passed through many adventures; he assumed, and
successfully, the manner of a good sportsman--free with his money, who
played deep, paid his debts of honour at once, and expected to be paid
in like manner. Now the gentlemen of Norfolk esteem a good sportsman
above all things, and readily pass over any little faults in a man who
pleases them in this respect. As for the ladies, the colonel made no
attempt to win their good graces, and was never seen either in the
long room or the gardens or the assembly.