_Cherry endeavours to remember if she were pretty.—A Water-party._
AND now my Memory flies on to the Time when, I suppose, I was as happy a
Girl as any on the _Bridge_. I know not whether I were pretty or not,—I
rather suppose I was, but my Father praised me too much, and my dear
Mother never praised me at all, so that I have no Clue to what was
really thought of me. There’s an old Saying, “Even a little Beetle is a
Beauty in the Eyes of its Mother,”—I am bold to think that if I had been
a little Black-beetle, I should still have been a Beauty in the Eyes of
my Father. My Mother used to tell him “all his Geese were Swans,” which
was as much as to say that hers were not: be that as it may, if she
praised me less, I always felt she loved me as much as he did; and I
loved her to the full as much as I loved him.
I remember coming down Stairs one _Sunday_ Morning, dressed for
Church,—(we had no Liturgy, nor Church of _England_ Clergymen then, such
was the Will of _Parliament_,)—dressed in a primrose Petticoat and
grass-green Mantua neatly bundled up behind; black Mits without a Crease
in them for Tightness, white Pinners starched and crimped, and a small
steeple-crowned Hat,—when _Mark_, meeting me at the Stair-foot, stepped
out of my Way with a sliding Bow, said, “Bless me, how pretty we are!”
and looked attentively after me. I felt ashamed and yet elated; and
thought somewhat more of myself and of him after that; yet I am not
quite sure, now, that his Speech was not ironical, after all.
Of my Friend and Schoolfellow, _Violet Armytage_, there could not be two
Opinions. She was excessively pretty, and knew it too well: which was
partly the Fault of her Father, who was always calling her his “sweet
_Wi-let_;” and yet, even if he had not, I think she would have found it
out, for all that. _My_ Father called me his rosy _Cherry_, but I knew
it for his Manner of Speaking. But _Violet_ always believed Everything
that was said in her Praise. She was fond of me by Fits and Starts; and
when the affectionate Fit was on, she would bring her Work and sit with
me in the Arbour at the Top of our House, by the Hour together.
Sometimes my Father and Mother would join us there in the long Summer
Evenings, and we would sup in the open Air; no one objecting to it but
_Dolly_, who had to carry the Things up so many Pair of Stairs.
At other Times, when my Father and Mother were otherwise engaged, _Mark_
would come up to us; and sit upon the Roller or Watering-pot, and say
ever so many funny Things to us both; which we thought very pleasant.
Sometimes _Violet_ would let her Ball of Thread roll through the Rails
and drop down into the Street, and send him to fetch it; and when he had
brought it she would do the same Thing again; which he said was too bad,
but I don’t think he minded it. I never played him such Tricks myself;
for, what was singular, though we lived in the same House together, I
was shyer of him than she was.
[Illustration]
Our first Floor was let to a very learned and excellent Man, though a
very singular one, the Reverend _Nathanael Blower_, who had been Curate
of _St. Magnus_ till the Form of Religion changed. Then he was hard put
to it, where to lay his Head without fleeing the Country or getting into
Trouble; for the Independents were mighty intolerant; and he whom we
used to think it a great Honour to get a passing Word and a Smile from,
was now thankful to take up his Rest among us. Holy Writ tells us that
some have entertained Angels unawares: if we entertained an Angel, it
was not unawares, though he was a very eccentric and untidy one. He said
he would have called my Mother the good _Shunammite_ if it had not been
a Shame to provoke Comparison between himself and the Prophet _Elijah_.
Indeed his was somewhat like the “Chamber on the Wall,” for the
Back-room in which he slept was a Lean-to that stuck against the main
Wall like a Swallow’s Nest, and hung perilously over the foaming River,
trembling at every half-ebb Tide; but Use inures us to Everything, and
he said he slept as well in his Nest as a Sailor in his Hammock. As to
his Sitting-chamber, it was soon a perfect Pig-sty (if Pigs ever had
Books) of Papers, Parchments, Books, Pamphlets, old Shoes, Hats and
Coats, Medicines, Cordials, Snuff-boxes, Pipes, Walking-sticks, and
Everything that is untidy. After a Time he began to think whether he
might not, by a conscientious Conformity, be a Working-bee rather than a
Drone in the Hive; and, having some Acquaintance with Master _John
Howe_, the _Whitehall_ Preacher, who was known to be forward in
assisting the Royalists and Episcopalians in Distress, if they were but
Men of Merit, he went and took his Advice on the Subject before he
presented himself before the Triers, that is to say, those who tried the
ejected Ministers whether they might be allowed to officiate again in
Public or not. Along with him went Doctor _Fuller_, so well known by his
wise and witty Books; who was generally upon the merry Pin, for as pious
a Man as he was. He, presenting himself before Master _Howe_, said,
[Illustration:
The Back-room in which he slept was a Lean-to that stuck against the
Main Wall
]
“Sir, you may observe I am a pretty corpulent Man, and I am to go
through a Passage that is very strait. I beg you would be so kind as to
give me a Shove, and help me through!”
Master _Howe_ smiled, and frankly debated the Subject with him and
Master _Blower_; and the End of it was, that when the Triers put it to
Master _Fuller_ whether he had ever had any Experience of a Work of
Grace upon his Heart, he made Answer, that he could appeal to the
Searcher of Hearts, that he made Conscience of his very Thoughts; and
Master _Blower_ said in other Words what amounted to the same Thing;
howbeit, like _Pharaoh’s_ Butler and Baker, one was accepted—the other
not.
And the Reason was, that they got upon the Question of particular Faith,
which was very prevalent in _Oliver Cromwell’s_ Court, and put it to him
whether he did not believe that all who asked for Anything in Faith
would have it granted them, as well as have an Assurance on the Spot
that it would be so. Which he said, in that large, unqualified Sense, he
did not, for that he believed many timid Believers had the Faith of
Adherence who had not the Faith of Assurance; and that if Prayer were
made for some unreasonable Thing, however fervently, he did not think it
would be granted. That would not stand Master _Blower_; so he had to
come back to his Swallow’s Nest.
“But is it not an extraordinary Thing, now,” saith he to my Mother,
“that they should, except for the Sake of catching a Man in his Talk, so
hardly insist on the literal Acceptance of a Dogma which they themselves
must know they overstrain? For would one of them dare to pray that his
Father or Mother might come to Life again in this present World, however
much he might long to see them in the Body? Or that all Jews, Infidels,
and Heretics, might be converted this very Moment, however desirable a
Thing it might be? We do the Word of God Dishonour and make it of none
Effect when we interpret by the Letter instead of the Spirit.”
In this Fashion would the excellent Master _Blower_ vouchsafe to
converse with my Mother in my Hearing, much to her Edification and mine.
Meantime _Violet Armytage_ was much more given to Flirting than
Preaching; and had more Admirers than any Girl on the _Bridge_; but the
Man whom she and her Mother were chiefly desirous she should captivate
was no Admirer of hers at all. This was _Hugh Braidfoot_, the Glover,
who lived next Door to us; and who talked the Matter over with my Father
very freely when they had the Shop to themselves; I sewing in the
Parlour behind.
“I can see quite plainly through the old Lady,” quoth he, as he sate on
his favourite Seat, the Counter, with his Feet easily reaching the
Floor, “I can see what she’s driving at, and don’t respect her for it a
bit. Why should she always be buying Gloves three or four Sizes too
small for her broad red Hand, and then be sending _Violet_ over to
change them again and again till they fit? I’ve a dozen Pair wasted that
she has stretched. And where is the other Daughter, and why is she
always in the Background?”
“_Kitty_ is sickly and a little lame,” says my Father, “and has her
Health better in the Country.”
“I don’t believe she’s either sickly or lame,” says _Hugh Braidfoot_,
“only the Mother wants to get this Daughter off first—and stands in her
own Light by her Manœuvres, I can tell her. Defend me from a managing
Mother!”
About this Time, my Father’s Trade had a short but surprising Impetus,
which, as he said to my Mother, “was but the Flaring up of a Candle in
the Socket, just before it goes out.” Cropped Heads and long Curls being
now the Signs of different Parties, and the Round-heads having the
uppermost, numerous Persons that had hitherto been vain enough of their
long and graceful Tresses, which brought no small Gain to the
Hairdressers, were now anxious to be shorn as close as _French_ Poodles,
for Fear of getting into Scrapes with the reigning Power. And as, like
the Sheep after Shearing, they left their Fleeces behind them, which
were in many Cases exceeding valuable, my Father and _Mark_ were busied
from Morning to Night, in washing, baking, and weaving beautiful Sets of
Hair, which were carefully reserved for future Occasion.
“For you will see,” quoth my Father, “there will sooner or later be a
Reaction; _I_ may not live to see it, but you Youngsters will; People
will be tired of Puritanism and Rebellion some of these Days, and then
the old State of Things will come back; and the Croppies will be as
ashamed of their Stubble Heads as the Cavaliers are of their Love-locks
now; and, as Hair won’t grow as fast as green Peas, they will then be
constrained to wear Wigs, and then will come a rare Time for the
Barbers!” Every Word of which, like so many other of his Prophesyings
and Presages, in due Season proved strictly true!
Meantime, though this Fury for cropping filled the Till as long as there
was any long Hair to cut off, yet, this being presently done, a great
Stagnation of Business ensued; for, whereas the curled Locks had
required constant curling, brushing, and trimming, the round Heads were
easily kept short, and brought only Pence where the others had brought
Shillings. My Father kept his Hair long to the last; and, to express his
Opinion of the Times so as e’en they who ran might read, he set up two
waxen Effigies in his Window, not merely Heads, but half Lengths; the
one representing an exceeding comely and handsome young Man, (very much
like my Cousin _Mark_,) with long, fair Tresses most beautifully
crimped, falling over his _Vandyke_ Collar and black Velvet Coat: the
other, with as red a Nose as old _Noll_, close cropped, so as to show
his large Ears sticking out on each Side. And to make the Satire more
pungent, the Round-head made as though pointing to the Cavalier, with a
small Label superscribed, “See what I was!”—and the Cavalier, with a
Look of silent Disgust, was signing at the Round-head and saying, “See
what I shall be!”
[Illustration]
This Comicality, which had cost my Father and _Mark_ sundry Hours of
evening Labour,—(I had made the Dresses,) drew Crowds of People to the
Window, so as even to obstruct the Passage along the Bridge; and excited
Peals of ironical Laughter; till, at length, Mirth proceeding to
Mischief, Blows began to ensue among those who favoured opposite Sides.
Then the Bridgewardens came with Constables and Weapons to quell the
Disturbance, and an idle Fellow was set in the Cage, and another, with
long Hair, put in the Stocks; and one or two of our Panes of Glass were
broken; so that what began in Sport ended much too seriously; and my
Father, finding he must yield to the Times, changed the Cavalier’s
Placard into “See what you had better be,” and finally removed it
altogether, saying he was nauseated with time-serving. But he persisted
in wearing his own long Hair, come what would; which drew from the
Reverend Master _Blower_ that Similitude about the _Trojan_ Horse, who,
I suppose, persisted in wearing his Mane and long Tail after they had
become Types of a Party. And when my Father was called in question for
it by one of the Bridgewardens, and asked why he persevered in troubling
_Israel_, he with his usual Spirit retorted upon him with, “How can a
Tonsor be expected to hold with a Party that puts Pence into his Till
instead of Shillings?” Whereupon the Bridgewarden called him a
self-interested _Demas_, and said no more to him.
_Hugh Braidfoot_ upheld him through thick and thin, laughing all the
while; though he kept his own bushy Head as short as a Blacking-brush.
Indeed, this Man, though the Essence of Mirth and Good-humour, strongly
built, and six Foot high, had not a Quarter of my Father’s Valour.
As for Master _Blower_, he made a wry Face on it, saying that Magnasheh
Miksheh (which I afterwards heard was Hebrew for well-set Hair) was now
of no Account.
—One Evening,—I have good Reason to remember it,—the Days being sultry
and at their longest,—we made a Pleasure-party to _Greenwich_, and took
Water below the Bridge. Coming back just as the Moon was rising, a
Boat-full of uproarious and half-intoxicated young Men fell foul of us
and upset us. I shall never forget my Sensations as I went into the
Water!—The next Minute, I was half out of it again, and found _Mark’s_
Arm close round me, while with the other he struck out, and presently
brought me ashore. My dear Father also rescued my Mother; and _Hugh
Braidfoot’s_ long Legs helped him more in wading out like a Heron, I
think, than his Arms in swimming, for he, too, presently came aland,
covered with Mud. My Mother and I cried, and felt very grateful to
_Mark_, who stood panting and colouring, and looking very much pleased
with himself; and presently we were all in another Boat on our Way to
the Bridge Stairs, drenched, quiet, and thankful for our providential
Escape.... I, especially, feeling, oh! how happy!—Yet, in after Days,
there was a Time when I was ready to wish _Mark_ had left me in the
River—.
[Illustration]
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