ANOTHER HOME.
AUGUST had come round again. Such of the Dutch merchants as had places
in the country retired to them and passed long hours contemplating
their flower beds and their fat cows. For my own part, I liked
Rotterdam better since there, at least, we had the fresh sea-breeze.
Truth to tell, with all its neatness, Holland is not a savory country
in hot weather.
Garrett and Avice had gone down to visit Katherine, and the maids had
seized on the chance for a perfect carnival or orgy of brushing and
scrubbing, though the house was always as clean as hands could make
it. However, Gatty had brought me that morning a very small spider
web, tenanted by a very little spider, as a triumphant justification
of her proceedings. So I had nothing to say, and, indeed, I always
carefully abstained from meddling in the housekeeping. I was tired and
discouraged—I suppose such times come to every one—feeling that my
burden had been carried long enough, and that I could not bear it any
longer. I was not very well either, having been troubled of late with
one of those irregular agues which are the plague of that country. I
had heard a rumor that morning that a new pastor was coming to the
English congregation, but I did not know his name, and felt, just
then, no great interest in the matter, beyond hoping that he would not
interfere with my little school.
I was glad to find, on arriving at home, that the maids had so far
finished their operations that the house was once more habitable. I
looked into my aunt's room, and seeing her comfortably dozing in her
chair, I went to my own, and indulged in a fit of weeping, which was
an unusual thing with me. I was just washing my face and making myself
presentable when I heard my uncle's voice calling me. I hurried my
preparations, knowing his impatience at being kept waiting, but was not
quite ready when I heard him coming up two steps at a time.
"Come, come, girl, what needs all this prinking?" he asked, as I opened
the door. "Here is a messenger from our good protector and friend, his
Grace of Suffolk."
I was not long in following him down stairs, and into the parlor. The
queer feeling of knowing all about it came over me as I entered the
room, and was not one bit surprised to see Walter Corbet, thin and
worn, and dressed like a common sailor, talking with my Aunt Holland.
Our greeting was quiet and natural enough, but our eyes told their
tale to each other, and I fancy also to my aunt and uncle, for I saw a
smiling glance pass between them.
"This is the Duke's messenger, and also our new English pastor, albeit
he looks not very reverend in his present attire!" said mine uncle.
"But ''tis not the cassock that makes the priest,' is an old and pithy
proverb. Kinsman, you are most welcome. And how left you the Duke and
Duchess?"
"Well in health, but in deep affliction," answered Walter. "They have
lost their two promising young sons."
"Alas, the sweet babes, are they gone?" I said. "What ailed them?"
"The sweating sickness. My Lady Frances also had it, but recovered,
thanks to her mother's nursing. 'Twas most sweet to see how her Grace
put aside her own grief to attend on her step-daughter, and comfort her
husband. But the blow hath been a terrible one for his Grace. I doubt
he will hardly recover it."
"My mistress was ever a most noble lady, and the best of wives and
mothers," said I. "I can believe any good of her, whether in prosperity
or adversity."
"And his Grace keeps court favor still?" asked mine uncle.
"Ay—that is, he keeps that of the king, albeit he has enemies enough,
for he hath never made any secret of his principles. Gardiner hates
him, like the venomous adder that he is."
"Nephew, nephew, deliver all with charity!" said my aunt, rather
shocked.
"I crave pardon, madam—of the snake," answered Walter, with a flash of
his old fun in his eyes. "The poor reptile at least only acts out his
nature, and uses no deceit. Gardiner is as much a Papist as ever he
was, and so it will be seen if that side ever again gets uppermost."
"But will it ever, think you?"
"Not if our gracious Prince Edward is preserved to us. But he is a
delicate lad, or so it is said, and failing him the Lady Mary is the
next heir. Every one knows what her bent is; and besides that, her
nature has been cankered and embittered by her own wrongs and those of
her mother."
"Small wonder, poor thing!" remarked my uncle. "Yet might she remember
that both Tyndale and Luther took her mother's part. But come to my
room, kinsman, and change your dress for somewhat more befitting, and
then, when you have dined, we will hear your adventures."
Walter's adventures were soon told. He had fallen under suspicion for
preaching and teaching, and his Grace had thought it best for him to
fly while there was yet time. He had heard that a new pastor was needed
in the English community at Rotterdam, and had come hither to offer his
services, till the time should come when he could return in safety to
his beloved cure in Devon.
I know not exactly how the matter was arranged, but Walter was soon
installed as pastor over the small English congregation, and delivered
his first sermon to the satisfaction of every one; though I believe
some of the Dutch scholars who attended on the occasion, thought he
was not sufficiently metaphysical, and that he dwelt too much on the
need of good works. But his own people were content; so it mattered the
less. A small parsonage was attached to the church, presided over by
a somewhat severe English dame, and here Walter took up his lodging,
though I think he supped as often at our house as at his own.
A month after he was fairly settled in his new home and occupation,
Walter asked me to be his wife. It was no great surprise to me, and
I did not pretend that it was; but I asked him if his conscience was
quite clear as to marrying after he had taken his vow of celibacy.
"Absolutely so!" he answered. "My vow was taken in ignorance, and
because I was misled to believe that the Law of God required priests to
live a single life. Now I find that not only is there no such law, but
that St. Peter himself was married, and carried his wife with him on
his apostolic journeys, as did St. James and the brethren of the Lord,
and that St. Paul expressly asserts his right to do the same if he
chooses. * And I can not bring myself to believe that the state of life
chosen by the Holy Spirit as an emblem of the union between the Lord
and his church can be of itself unholy. But how is it with yourself, my
dear one?"
* Farrar argues very plausibly that St. Paul was probably a widower.
"Oh, I settled the matter long ago!" I answered, incautiously, and then
covered my face with my hands, overwhelmed with confusion as I thought
of the admission I had made.
"Why, then all is well!" said Walter. "And with your good leave, I will
tell your uncle that you are not disinclined to take command of the
parsonage and its master."
"And how think you Mistress Jennings will like to have a young lady put
over her?" I asked.
"If she be not pleased, she hath an easy remedy—she can retire!" said
Walter. "But I think not we shall have any trouble with her."
There was no reason for delay, since every body was pleased with the
match.
True, I had not a tithe of the body and house linen considered
indispensable for every bride in Holland. But, as I said, the Van
Alstine family had kindly adopted me for a kinswoman from the first,
and they now came forward with the most munificent presents from their
abundant stores. (It grieves me to the heart even now to think how
much of my setting out I had to leave behind me.) Such towels and
sheets, such table-cloths and napkins, such treasures of old lace and
embroidered counterpanes! Every good mother in Holland, as soon as a
girl is born to her, begins to prepare these things for her wedding,
and by the time the child is old enough to be married, she has linen
enough to last her lifetime.
Garrett and Avice would give me my wedding dresses, and my uncle
refurnished the house from top to bottom. Arthur and Kate came from
Middleburg, and Arthur married us.
Contrary to Walter's expectation, Mistress Jennings took his marriage
exceedingly ill, and abdicated at once, saying she would have no fine
young lady set over her head. I was not at all sorry. When she found
her retirement made no such sensation as she expected, she offered
very condescendingly to remain and put the new mistress in the way of
managing her household.
But as it happened, the new mistress thought she know how already; so
we let her go, and I hired a nice, strong, clever English wench, who
I thought would be sufficient for us at present, with occasional help
from outside on emergencies.
It was a very happy home which was covered by the many-cornered
red-tiled roof of the little parsonage. I think old Madame Van Alstine,
Garrett's step-mother, had no fears for us after a pair of storks
settled themselves on one of our chimneys. It is the storks in Holland
which bring all the babies, but they never brought us any. It was a
grief at the time, but we came to see that all was ordered aright, and
the want was made up to us afterward. I had the more time to give to
the school and the work of the church. After a time, Katherine spared
to me one of her daughters who was and hath ever been a great comfort
to us.
The year after my marriage, my Aunt Joyce died, at the age of
ninety-eight. She was well and able to wait upon herself to the very
last day of her life. Avice had a fine little maid by that time, and my
aunt was at the christening and gave the babe her own name. The next
morning, when Avice went to call her as usual, she was no longer there.
She had evidently passed away in her sleep. It was a happy death,
but we missed her sorely. Of all women I ever saw, she had the most
excellently even temper and discretion. As the saying is, one always
knew where to have her. This was the only important change which took
place in our family for five years.
I had come to look upon Holland as home, and my English life was almost
like a dream. We heard of things going from bad to worse, of the king's
uncertain temper and continual change of policy, of Protestants and
Papists alike being hanged and burned for their religion. Nor were we
wholly without fears for ourselves. There were ominous growlings of
subterranean thunder, rumors of the establishment of the Holy Office
in Holland, of new imposts and severe laws against sectaries; but as
yet the storm which is now raging over that brave and unhappy people
did but mutter in the distance. Walter and my uncle used to talk about
England by the hour, but for myself, I must say, I was never homesick,
save when I thought of certain sparkling springs and the like. I would
have loved to see a babbling brook once more.
We had just kept our Christmas holidays, with the usual interchange
of gifts and distribution of spiced and gilded cakes. I remember I
was putting away a famous one, mounted on a fine china dish, which
Wilhelmina Bogardus had sent me for a present. We had begun to get
china dishes then, but they were a great rarity, and right pleased
I was with my New Year's gift. All at once the door was opened, and
in came my husband, my uncle and Garrett Van Alstine, all talking
together, and so full of their tidings that they actually forgot to
wipe their feet, and brought more mud into my parlor than Garrett would
ever have dared to take into his own house, that I know.
"News, my love! Great news!" said Walter. "King Henry is dead. And
Prince Edward now is king. Now may we return in peace to our home in
dear old Devon, and dwell once more among our own people."
This was the first time that I realized how constantly my husband had
cherished the hope of returning to his old cure. I must say the news
did not come to me as to him. I had had enough of removing to and fro.
I had many friends in Rotterdam, and none that I knew of in Devon,
and I would have been content to spend my life in that same little
parsonage, waked every morning by the clatter of the storks and the cry
of their young ones. I loved our people and the family which had so
frankly and kindly adopted me, and my heart sunk at the thought of such
another pulling up as this would be. I answered rather peevishly:
"At all events, you need not bring all Holland in upon my clean floor.
We are not going to take the country with us, I suppose."
I was ashamed of myself the moment the words were spoken. The men all
looked at me in surprise, and I saw in a moment that my husband was
hurt by my outburst.
"Why, what ails thee, this morning?" said mine uncle, laughing. "Art
become such a thorough Dutch housewife as to think a little mud on the
floor of more matter than the death of a king or the well-being of the
church?"
Anneke called me out to the kitchen just then, and I was not sorry to
get away and recover my composure. When I had settled the domestic
difficulty, whatever it was, I retired to my chamber, and strove by
prayer and meditation to bring myself to a better temper. I succeeded
so far that I was able to meet my husband with a pleasant face when
he came in to dinner, and to ask him particulars of the news he had
received from England. He was the same as ever, and told me all he had
heard; but he said never a word of returning to Devon, and I felt that
I would not trust myself with the subject just now.
We were bidden to supper at Garrett Van Alstine's house that night,
to meet the guests who had brought the news. I was pleased to meet in
one of them a gentleman I had often seen in her Grace of Suffolk's
withdrawing-room— one Mr. Evans, a West country man and a great
scholar. While I sat talking with him, I heard Avice say to my husband
in a tone of surprise—
"But you will never think of leaving us, and returning to England,
surely?"
"Of course not," said Mynheer Bogardus, Garrett's uncle, a very rich
and consequential merchant, who always seemed to think he was to carry
all before him by sheer force of will. "I take it Master Walter is too
wise a man to leave certainty for uncertainty."
"I have hitherto found uncertainty the only certain thing in this
world," answered Walter, smiling. "I suppose our poor friends in Honak
were as certain of rising in the morning as we are." He alluded to a
flourishing village, which only a few days before had been destroyed in
the night so that not a trace remained, and that not by an inundation,
but by that strange undermining of the sea, which gives no warning, and
which has destroyed thousands of lives in Holland.
"But why should you wish to change again?" asked another. "I do not
understand that your benefice in England is a very wealthy one."
"I would you could see it," said Walter, smiling, and then turning to
me: "Tell me, sweetheart, what would Mistress Van Sittart think were
she translated to one of our Devon farmhouses?"
"She would think herself transported to some island of savages," said
I; and I could not but laugh as I thought of Carolina Van Sittart,
who was a wonder of neatness even among Dutch women, in an ordinary
farmer's kitchen, or even a gentleman's dining-hall, in our old
neighborhood at Peckham Hall.
"Then I am sure Mistress Corbet will not wish to go," said Carolina.
"You would not be so cruel as to carry her off among savages," and with
that they all fell upon him at once for thinking of such cruelty.
"As to that, different people have different customs," said I, in some
heat, for when it came to the pinch, of course I took Walter's part;
"and if the people are such savages, they have the more need of one to
teach them the way of life. Here in Rotterdam every one can have at
least a Testament, or if not, they can hear the Word read and preached
every Sunday."
"True, but how many never do?"
"That is their own fault. I suppose if the apostles had waited till
every one in Jerusalem was converted before they preached elsewhere,
you might be offering human sacrifices to this day, Mynheer Bogardus,
as they say your ancestors, the free Frisians, used to do."
Walter gave me a look and smile that went to my heart, and Mynheer
Bogardus muttered something in his beard about women minding their
distaffs—as if I could not spin as well as Gatty any day.
"Then you would not mind going," said Avice, with one of her innocent
looks of wonder. "You would not mind leaving us all and going into that
wild West Country among the moors and hills."
A great lump came into my throat, but I swallowed it, and answered
resolutely:
"I do not say that I should choose it, but if my husband's duty leads
him thither, 'tis clearly mine not to let him go alone. And as to the
moors and hills, I am not sure but I would love to see some land not so
flat that a tall man can be seen two miles off. And I am very sure I
should like a drink of water from a living spring once more."
A call to supper interrupted the discussion, which was doubtless as
well, for I was growing warm, as one is apt to do when arguing against
one's self. No more was said at that time, but when we were walking
homeward, Walter asked me, saying:
"Sweetheart, did you really mean all you said to-night about going back
to Devon? Would you indeed go and content yourself?"
"I would go, of course, if you did," I answered. "I don't pretend to
say I should like it as well in all ways, but I doubt not I could
content myself, and I am pretty well used to changes."
"Ay, that you are, poor child," said Walter.
"But, husband, I would not have you decide in haste," I added. "Take
time to consider. You know Mynheer Bogardus says second thoughts are
best."
"And do you think so?" asked my husband, with one of his penetrating
looks.
"No; honestly I do not," I answered. "I think when one is habitually
guided by high Christian principle, as you are, that the first thought
is usually the best, because the second is apt to get mixed up with
worldly policy. But, husband, I would have you take time to consider
and pray over this matter. Take counsel with Mr. Evans. He knows the
West Country well, and can tell you what are the prospects, and I know
his Grace over held him in esteem as a wise and sober man. Then if you
decide that your duty takes you back to the gray parsonage, your wife
will not say one word to withhold you."
Walter pressed my hand. "Your counsel is good, and I will take it,"
said he; but I knew well enough what the end would be. Men are ever
ready to take counsel after they have made up their own minds.
Mr. Evans came to give us a visit next day, and he and Walter had a
great talk, I sitting by with my knitting, which I have ever found a
great soother of the nerves. * He was, as I had said, a wise and sober
man, and a devout Christian. He told Walter, he believed the reign of
King Edward would see the Reformed faith set on so firm a basis as that
no after persecution could overthrow it.
* Women ought to be forever grateful to the Spanish Moors, who seem
first to have brought knitting into Europe from the East.
"The truth spreads more and more among the people, and with it the
knowledge of letters. Old men and women can then have books, and their
criss-cross row, that they may be able to read the Gospel with their
own eyes. There have been great stirrings and preachings about Exeter,
and those not always of the wisest kind. 'Tis the tendency of poor
human nature ever to run to extremes."
"The more need for preachers who shall not run to extremes," said my
husband.
"True," answered Mr. Evans. "There is, indeed, great need of wise
and sober preachers and teachers, and that especially among our
warm-hearted and quick-witted men of Devon. As to the matter of safety,
you are as well off there as here—nay, better, so long as King Edward
lives, whom God preserve. I did marvel to hear Mynheer Bogardus speak
so confidently last night. Does he forget that Holland is wholly in the
power of Spain, and that Spain is ruled by the Inquisition?"
"I think he does, just as the Hollanders forget that the sea is ever
watching to take back what they have wrested from it. The emperor hath
ever been favorable, rather than otherwise, to his Dutch subjects."
"Ay, but the emperor grows old, and also devout, which last is not of
good omen to his Protestant people," answered Master Evans, dryly.
"Moreover, if he should abdicate, as you know, he often talks of doing—"
"Think you that will ever happen?"
"That is more than I can say, but if it does it will lay a knife to
every Protestant throat in Holland—that am I as sure of as of mine own
life."
But I must not make my story too long. Walter did wait, and did think,
but his mind was made up from the first, and the first of May saw us
packed up and ready to go on board a Dutch vessel trading to Bristol.
'Twas a hard parting, and the more that I had to leave my little Kate
behind, her mother not being willing to trust her so far from her own
home. I did not blame her, for I knew I should have felt just so in
her place, but yet 'twas like parting with a hand to leave the dear
child behind. We took our old English maid, Mary Thornton, with us,
and I had just seen my good Anneke settled in her husband's farmhouse
in such comfort as I would I could see any where here. (I suppose the
great farm, with all its crops and barns, its warm house and beautiful
pictures, is all under water now.) I will not linger on the parting.
Be it enough to say that we reached Bristol after a somewhat tedious,
but very safe voyage, that we had a rough journey from thence to
Biddeford, in a dirty little coaster, and at last, a month after
leaving home, found ourselves at our own house in the little village or
hamlet of Coombe Ashton.
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