OF MY FATHER'S END AND OTHER MATTERS.
When my father awoke I asked him, "Shall I go for my mother and
sister?"
He answered me: "Had I desired to see them--nay, but I do desire to
see them with a great longing," and his eyes were filled with tears, a
thing that I had never seen before in him; "had it been well that they
should come, son Philip, I had sent you for them so soon as I was
brought to this place. I knew when first that bullet struck me that it
carried a billet of death, nor have I ever looked for any other end,
though a man will hope even against hope, nor do I pretend to be
stronger and wiser than others. But as for your mother and your sister
coming hither, 'tis clearly impossible. They would need a regiment of
horse to escort them safely, for the country was never so disturbed.
No, my son, when I bade your mother farewell at Oxford, it was
understood between us that whatever might befall me, she and our dear
Dorothy should tarry at home. And, indeed, this was part of the cost
that she and I counted when I took up arms for the King. God comfort
her in her widowhood, and you and Dorothy render her double love and
duty. And now I would settle my worldly affairs, that I may give the
rest of my time to God."
After this he made a codicil to his will, to which Master Ellgood and
John Talboys set their hands as witnesses. Also he bade me write down
what he desired to be done with sundry possessions that he had,
desiring that certain friends should have something to keep in memory
of him. And he gave me many messages for kinsfolk and acquaintance,
and much counsel for myself, of which the chief was that while I had
the opportunity--"for how long you may have it," said he, "I know
not"--I should be diligent with my books, and that in due time, if I
felt any drawing thereto, I should seek for orders at the hands of a
Bishop. But of these things, as being matters of private concern, I
will here write no more.
The rest of his time, which was indeed but two days, the wound
mortifying and so bringing him to his end sooner than any had thought,
he spent in meditation and religious exercises. Master Ellgood, who
was a priest, though, as will be set forth more at length hereafter,
he had long been excluded from his office, was most diligent in
praying and reading the Scriptures with him; and on the morning of his
death, which was the festival of St. John the Baptist, delivered to
him the blessed sacrament, all that were in the house communicating
with him. My father's strength held out just so long that he could
join, though but in a low voice, to the very end of the service. Nor
did he speak again afterwards, till he came to the very last, but lay
with his eyes shut, yet conscious of himself, as I knew because he
pressed my hand as I sat by him. About two hours after noon it seemed
to me that he had departed, for I could not see his breast move, nor
feel the vein in his wrist. But it was not so, for when Cicely held a
mirror to his mouth, the breath was to be seen upon it, though but
very faint. In this state he lay for the space of three hours or
there-abouts; but about five of the clock, there came a flush upon his
cheeks, and he opened his eyes, which were as bright as ever I saw
them, and looked at me, and said in a clear voice, smiling the while:
"I have seen her, and it is well." And having said this he passed
away. And here I should say that at this very hour my mother sitting
in her chamber, having just come back from evensong in St. Peter's
Church, saw my father, as plain as ever she had seen him in life,
standing by the window; and that he smiled upon her very sweetly and
pleasantly. "I seemed to know," she said afterwards, "that it was not
he in the flesh, for I did not make to go to him or speak to him; but
yet I was in no wise afraid, but sat looking at him with such love and
gladness in my heart as I had never felt before. And in a short space
of time, for it seemed to me, but 'twas, as afterwards I found from
comparing of time, about half of an hour, he vanished out of my
sight."
My father was buried in the churchyard of Naseby, Master Ellgood
saying over him the service provided in the Prayer Book. The minister
of Naseby, a good man, but somewhat timid withal, had not dared to use
it, but our host had no such fear. "None," said he, "will hinder me or
call me to account." And so it was, I may note, that, having the whole
by heart from beginning to end, he used no book. Maybe, had he had a
book in his hand, some that were present might have made objection;
but when he said it as if extempore, not only did none murmur, but all
seemed edified. 'Tis a strange thing, and yet of a piece with many
other things in life, that a man may say unharmed, yea, and commended,
that which to read would put him in peril of liberty or life.
I, coming back from the burying, was wetted through by a great storm
of rain, and, neglecting to change my clothes, was the next day taken
with a great cold and fever, other things, I doubt not, as care and
trouble of mind, making the sickness worse. And, indeed, 'twas so sore
(this they told me after, but at the time I knew nothing, but only
raved of fighting and of disputing in the school at Oxford), that for
some days I was like to follow my father. So I lay betwixt life and
death till it was about the middle of the month of July; and then
partly through Master Ellgood's skill in physic (especially in the use
of simples of which he had a considerable knowledge), and more through
the good nursing of Mistress Cicely and of John Talboys, I began to
mend.
One morning when the danger was past, says John Talboys to me, "'Tis
time, sir, that I thought of departing hence. You need me no more, and
I must shift for myself. My soldiering is over for three years to
come; but I reckon that a stout pair of hands will not lack
employment. I can ply a sickle and drive a furrow as well as most men;
and there are those in Oxfordshire who know it and will give me good
wages."
So I gave him two gold pieces (having had ten given me by my father).
He was loath to take them, but I pressed them on him, as being my
father's gift to him, as indeed they were. Also I wrote a letter of
many sheets to my mother, which I gave into his keeping, he promising
to deliver it into her hands with all possible speed. So he departed;
nor have I ever seen him again, but I hear that he prospers, keeping
an inn at Cassington, in the county of Berks, and having also a farm.
He is as brave and honest a fellow as ever bestrode a horse.
After I began to mend I saw no more of Mistress Cicely, though I could
hear her singing about the house, for she had a very sweet and tunable
voice. There waited on me a very decent widow woman from the village,
that was reckoned a notable nurse in these parts; such doubtless she
was, for I never lacked anything, but had all things served at the due
time. But she had a heavy hand, and a croaking voice, and was of a
singular doleful temper. She would sit by the hour and talk to me of
those whom she had nursed in times past, and if she mentioned one that
had died she would say like enough, "He very greatly favoured you,
sir," or "He had the same complexion as you, and I have noted that it
often goes with a consumption," or "He was of very tall stature, and
your tall men fail very suddenly." I was myself tall. As for her
readiness to believe all kinds of marvels, 'twas such as I never saw
surpassed. There was scarce a house in the country but she knew of
some ghost that walked in it, and if there was no ghost of a man, then
there was one of a dog or a cat; and as for witches, there was not a
village but had two or three. And when I doubted, she had
circumstances at hand to prove what she said. "Did not Thomas Clark at
Erpington Mill speak roughly to Alice Viner, the Erpington witch, for
picking wood in his coppice, and Alice cursed him, and said that he
should never die in his bed, and the miller, coming home from market
the very next Tuesday, fell from his horse and was killed?" "But was
the miller in liquor, think you?" I said. "Yes," said she, "and had
come home in liquor every market day for thirty years and more, and
had come to no harm till he fell out with Alice." That witches may be,
I do not doubt, for does not Scripture say, "Thou shalt not suffer a
witch to live;" but that many poor women have an ill-name for
witchcraft, ay, and worse than an ill-name, that have no worse faults
than a shrewish temper and a bitter tongue, I do not doubt. With such
doleful tales did Margery Marriott--for that was the good woman's
name--entertain me; and though Master Ellgood would come and sit with
me, I was right glad, when the fever having left me and, in a great
measure, the weakness also that followed it, I was quit of her
company.
It was about the end of July when I left my chamber; there then
followed so delightful a time as had never before come to me in my
whole life. First, the skies smiled upon me, for the summer having
been hitherto somewhat wet and stormy, there now began a season of the
most serene weather that can be imagined; and next, the place was most
sweet and pleasant, a very home of peace, and Master Ellgood showed me
such courtesy and kindness as could not be surpassed; and lastly, to
use the figure which the rhetoricians call a climax, I had sometimes
at least, though not as often as I would, the companionship of
Mistress Cicely. Of her face and aspect I have written before; and
these were such, indeed, as would strike all beholders; but of the
inner beauty and fairness of her soul, I have said nothing, nor,
indeed, can now say enough. She ordered her father's household with
such nice care as not the most experienced matron could have excelled,
and yet had barely ended her seventeenth year; nay, but for the help
of a little maid and a lad that hewed the wood and fetched the water,
she did all the service of the house; yet, for all this, I never saw
her with so much as a pin awry, nor any flush upon her cheeks, though
she might be newly come from cooking the dinner. And for all these
cares, yet time never failed her to minister to the sick when any
needed her help; no, nor to nourish her own mind with the reading of
wholesome authors. She was not ignorant of Latin, which her father had
taught her in company with her brother, but to this, since he went to
the war, she had paid but little heed; but with our English writers
she had such acquaintance as made me, being indeed somewhat rude in
these matters, wholly ashamed. 'Twas of her that I learnt to read the
_Canterbury Pilgrims_ of Geoffrey Chaucer, and the poems of Lord
Surrey, and the incomparable Sir Philip Sidney's romance of _Arcadia_.
Of William Shakespeare his plays I knew already somewhat, but with her
and her father much increased my knowledge, for of an evening we would
read one or another, dividing the characters among ourselves. But I
must confess that it was not her notable housekeeping, nor her
charitable disposition, nor her learning in authors ancient and
modern, that I chiefly admired in her; no, nor her beauty only, that I
may be but just to myself; but herself, that was a compound, most
sweetly mixed of all; for gracious ways, and a delicate courtesy, and
a most modest discretion of voice and look set off and displayed, if I
may so speak of that which did always rather seek to hide itself, the
singular virtues of her mind and body. I do believe what divines teach
of the corruption of human nature, yet I must confess that I have seen
women, of whom Cicely Ellgood was one, my mother another, and my
sister Dorothy a third, in whom I never discovered that which could
rightly be called corrupt. Faults they had, I doubt not, though in
Cicely and my mother I never perceived any such (for Dorothy had a
quick temper, but only in too hot anger against wrong-doing); but that
they sinned--if I must need receive it, I receive it of faith, not of
understanding.
I do not know whether Master Ellgood perceived how I was affected
towards his daughter, for that I was greatly enamoured of her scarcely
needs telling; but on the seventh day, or thereabouts, after my first
descending from my chamber, he called me to his private parlour,
saying that he desired to have some talk with me.
"Master Dashwood," he said; "'tis well that host and guest, if their
chance acquaintance has any likelihood to become more durable, should
know something of each other. Hear, therefore, my story; it may be
that, having heard it, you may choose that we should part. I was--nay,
I do protest that I still am--a priest of the Church of England; but I
have been for these many years deprived of my office; and the cause
was this, which you shall now hear. May be you have not heard of the
_Book of Sports_. It made trouble enough in its days, but like enough
has now been forgotten for stress of graver matters.
It had this for its title: _Concerning Lawful Sports to be used on
Sundays after Divine Service_. In it was commanded that dancing and
archery, and May games, and Whitsun ales, and Church feasts, should be
held lawful; but bull-baiting and bear-baiting and interludes
forbidden. At its first publishing it made but little stir; this was
some thirty years since, in the days of King James I. But when Dr.
Laud, that was then Archbishop of Canterbury, put it forth again some
twelve years since, and strictly commanded all the Bishops of his
province that they should enforce it on all ministers, no little
trouble arose. Against Dr. Laud I would say nothing, but he was one
that suffered not his words to fall to the ground. There went out,
therefore, a strict commandment that every minister should read the
book on the eighteenth of October following--being St. Luke's
day--publicly in the church, after morning prayer. Some of the bishops
took little heed of the matter; but my Lord of Norwich, in whose
diocese I held a cure, was exceeding hot about it. To be brief, I read
it not. Now I hold not with them who mislike these games altogether.
If the Jews danced and shot with the bow, why not Christian men? And
as for the Whitsun ales and the Church feasts and the like, that they
work mischief I deny not; but 'tis chiefly because honest and sober
folk keep too much aloof from them, and leave them to the looser sort.
Nor am I altogether resolved in mind whether such things be unlawful
on the Sunday. To forbid them savours of Sabbath worship; yet to
permit them does not tend to edifying. May be you will ask why then
did I not read the book, as was enjoined upon me? Because I held that
the civil power was intruding into things with which it had no
concern, the which intrusion every true minister of God must resist to
the loss of all things, and, if need be, even to the death. Howbeit I
will not weary you with my reasons, which, indeed, that I may be
altogether honest, I found not many to comprehend. To the one party I
seemed a rebel, because I obeyed not my ordinary, and to the other a
profane person, because I condemned not the sports. Let my reasons,
therefore, be. 'Tis enough for my present purpose to say that I could
not in my conscience obey. Well, the Archbishop being advised by my
Lord of Norwich, sends for me to Lambeth. As soon as I came into his
library, where he sat with a chaplain on either hand, he burst out on
me: 'Well, sir, I hear that you read not the book on the day
appointed. Is it so?' 'Suffer me, your Grace----' I said; but before I
could end my sentence he cried out, 'Answer me "yea" or "nay."' 'I
read it not,' said I, being myself also, it must be confessed, a
little touched by his heat. 'Then,' he cried, in a loud voice, 'I
suspend you for ever from your office and benefice till you shall read
it.' Thereat I saw one of the chaplains whisper into his ear. Hereupon
he moderated somewhat his voice, and said, 'Have you any defence?' I
had written down my reasons, and now began to read them. They were, as
I have said already, that the book was a civil declaration, such as
could not lawfully be enforced by any court ecclesiastical. But when I
had read barely a page he brake in upon me: 'Hold! 'tis enough; I will
hear no more. Whosoever shall make such a defence, it shall be burned
before his face, and he laid by the heels in prison. Hear now; I
admonish you hereby, personally and judicially, that you read this
Declaration within three weeks, under pain of being suspended _ab
officio et beneficio_.' As I turned to go I saw that the chaplain
whispered in his ear again. Then the Archbishop said, 'Tarry a moment,
Master Ellgood, and sit down'--for hitherto I had been standing--'I
would have a word with you.' And this he said in a voice more gentle
by far than he had before used. Afterwards I heard that the chaplain
had whispered to him about a little book that I had written of St.
Cyprian and the Bishop of Rome, in which matter the Archbishop was
much concerned. 'Have you studied the Fathers, Master Ellgood?' And
when I confessed that I had some knowledge of them, he held me in talk
about sundry matters which were then much talked of, of which the
chief was the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome. This converse held us
till noon, when the Archbishop would have me dine with him, and,
dinner ended, we played at bowls, the day being fine, though it was
already November; and I throwing my bowls well--for I have always
loved the game--his Grace said, ''Tis not now the first time that you
have thrown a bowl, Master Ellgood, so that you mislike not all
sport.' This he spake right pleasantly, and when I went away he gave
me his blessing, and said, 'I doubt not, Master Ellgood, but that we
shall agree;' and so parted from me in all friendship. Of a truth, I
would fain have done his pleasure, if only conscience had suffered me;
but I must needs wrap me in my virtue, if I may somewhat misquote
Horace; nor could I consent that the sun of his Grace's favour should
cause me to cast off that which the blast of his wrath had not rent
from me. I stood, therefore, by my denial, and so was first
excommunicated, and afterwards, still persisting, deprived of my
benefice. Ah, my son! 'twas a hard time with me and mine; nor has it
always been an easy thing with me to be in charity with all men. They
drave me forth from my house in February, when the snow was lying deep
upon the ground; and for two days we had no shelter for our heads but
a barn. The Bishop's people stripped me of all that I had, but 'twas
not of my lord's knowledge, and I had not so much as a piece of silver
in my pocket, nor did any man dare to take me into his house, though
some brought me food by stealth. My wife was stricken of so deadly a
chill that she fell into a wasting sickness and died some three months
after. She had taken some of her underclothing to keep our children
the warmer; but this I knew not till after. Perchance it was better
that I knew not; it had been a hard thing to choose between mother and
children. But why do I weary you with my troubles? Suffice it to say
that for two years I could scarce keep body and soul together. A
trifle I earned translating for the booksellers, and the dedication of
two little treatises that I wrote fetched me a few guineas; but I had
received better wages by following the plough, had but my hands been
hard enough. Some of my brethren in the ministry also helped,
especially Dr. Thomas Fuller, that was vicar of Broadwinsor, and some
money I had from the Archbishop himself, but this I knew not till
after his death. God forgive me for thinking too hardly of him! At the
end of the two years, a certain kinsman that, living, had never
favoured me, dying without a will, I inherited this house, with some
two hundred acres of land, part of which I have farmed as best I
could, and part have let. Perchance you would ask why, they that
persecuted me having fallen from power, I have had no favour from them
that succeeded to their place? The cause is soon said. I am no
Puritan; I hold neither with Presbyterian nor with Independent, but
think that bishops are the true rulers of the Church, though I myself
have had scant favour from them. The Covenant I cannot subscribe, nor
can I satisfy the Committees that the Parliament has appointed for the
examining of the clergy. An I could, I would not intrude myself into a
benefice from which some godly man has been driven out because he was
faithful to his King. But enough of myself. If you can bear with one
who can neither run with the hare nor hunt with the hounds, well; I
shall rejoice from my heart; but if not, we can at the least part in
Christian charity."
I should have found it hard to part with sweet Cicely's father had he
been Hugh Peters himself, who was the loudest and fiercest of all the
Parliament preachers. But who could refuse the hand of fellowship to
such an one as William Ellgood? He was one of those whose consciences
are too fine set for this world. Whoever was uppermost, there would be
ever some thing at which he would have some scruple. He had fared just
as ill, nay worse, had he lived a hundred years before. Then he had
been condemned under the Six Articles, and fallen under the
displeasure of the counsellors of King Edward, and been in danger of
the fire at Smithfield, and been deprived of his benefice under Queen
Elizabeth. Verily he was no vicar of Bray that would be vicar still
whoever should rule the roost. The more I knew him the more I loved
him, yet I could but see that were all men such as he, life itself
would be a thing impossible. Pure he was, and single-minded and
steadfast, but could see but one thing at a time; and everything, be
it ever so small, was an article of faith to him, for which he had
gone cheerfully to the death; and I soon learnt to see so much, not
only in his talk, in which he afterwards was quite free with me, but
in his face, which, for all its angelical sweetness, had a certain set
look which I have noted in the fiercest sectaries. But William Ellgood
was one that had for others a charity without bounds, and was stern
only upon himself.
Two or three days after Master Ellgood opened to me a trouble that he
had about his son. "He is a good lad," he said to me, "my son John,
but he does not see eye to eye with me in matters of Church and State.
There is work enough for them who stand aside from both parties in
these days, and this I would have had him do, but he was not content,
but must needs take service with the Parliament. He was with my Lord
Essex's army, and is promoted, I believe, to be a captain; but the
whole matter is a sore trouble to me."
"Well, Master Ellgood," said I, "I had been better pleased had he
stood for the King; but that one who hath the strength to strike a
blow should stand aside and not deal it for one side or the other, is
not to be looked for."
"Say you so?" said he; "there are but few that have one mind with me
in this matter. I must e'en be content to be alone."
I sojourned six weeks with Master Ellgood and then departed, though,
as need scarce be said, very loath to go, but I heard that his son
John, the war being now well nigh at an end, was like to return home,
and I could not reconcile it to myself to see him, when he had lately
borne arms against the King. I spake no word to Mistress Cicely before
I went, for who was I--a poor scholar that had followed the losing
side--to entangle her with promises? But there are vows that pass
without words. Such an one I made in my own heart. As for her, I knew
nothing certain, and lovers will find their hopes in slight tokens;
yet such a hope I found; and it sent me away with a lighter heart than
I had ever looked to have again.