things, into which, it would seem, even the angels dare not look; for we
are, as would appear, taught in Scripture that it is in man's history
that they see the workings of Divine Glory. And indeed, worthy Mr.
Inglesant, when you have lived to the limit of my many years, you will
not stumble at this; nor think this life a low and poor place in which
to seek the Divine Master walking to and fro. These high matters of
which you speak, and this heavenly life, is not to be disbelieved, only
it seems to me--more and more--that the soul or spirit of every man in
passing through life among familiar things is among supernatural things
always, and many things seem to me miraculous, which men think nothing
of, such as memory, by which we live again in place and time--and of
which, if I remember rightly, for I am a very poor scholar, you
doubtless know, St. Augustine says many pertinent things--and the love
of one another, by which we are led out of ourselves, and made to act
against our own nature by that of another, or, rather, by a higher
nature than that of any of us; and a thousand fancies and feelings which
have no adequate cause among outward things. Here, in this book which I
was reading when you so kindly came to see me, are withered flowers,
which I have gathered in my rambles, and keep as friends and companions
of pleasant places, streams and meadows, and of some who have been with
me, and now are not. There is one, this single yellow flower--it is a
tormentilla, which is good against the plague--what is it, that, as I
hold it, makes me think of it as I do? Faded flowers have something, to
me, miraculous and supernatural about them; though, in fact, it is
nothing wonderful that the texture of a flower being dried survives. It
is not in the flower, but in our immortal spirit that the miracle is.
All these delightful thoughts that come into my mind when I look at this
flower--thoughts, and fancies, and memories--what are they but the
result of the alchemy of the immortal spirit, which takes all the
pleasant, fragile things of life, and transmutes them into immortality
in our own nature! And if the poor spirit and intellect of man can do
this, how much more may the supreme creative intellect mould and form
all things, and bring the presence of the supernatural face to face with
us in our daily walk! Earth becomes to us, if we thus think, nothing
but the garden of the Lord, and every fellow-being we meet and see in
it, a beautiful and invited guest; and, as I think I remember, many of
the heathen poets, after their manner, have said very fine things about
this; that we should rise cheerfully from this life, as a grateful guest
rises from an abundant feast; and though doubtless they were very dark
and mistaken, yet I confess they always seemed to me to have something
of a close and entire fellowship with the wants of men, which I think
the Saviour would have approved. If you, sir, can receive this mystery,
and go through the honourable path of life which lies before you,
looking upon yourself as an immortal spirit walking among supernatural
things--for the natural things of this life would be nothing were they
not moved and animated by the efficacy of that which is above nature--I
think you may find this doctrine a light which will guide your feet in
dark places; and it would seem, unless I am mistaken, that this habit of
mind is very likely to lead to the blessedness of the Beatific Vision of
God, on the quest of which you have happily entered so young: for surely
it should lead to that state to which this vision is promised--the state
of those who are Pure in Heart. For if it be true, that the reason we
see not God is the grossness of this tabernacle wherein the soul is
encased, then the more and the oftener we recognise the supernatural in
our ordinary life, and not only expect and find it in those rare and
short moments of devotion and prayer, the more, surely, the rays of the
Divine Light will shine through the dark glass of this outward form of
life, and the more our own spirit will be enlightened and purified by
it, until we come to that likeness to the Divine Nature, and that purity
of heart to which a share of the Beatific Vision is promised, and which,
as some teach, can be attained by being abstract from the body and the
bodily life. As we see every day that the supernatural in some men
gives a particular brightness of air to the countenance, and makes the
face to shine with an inimitable lustre, and if it be true that in the
life to come we shall have to see through a body and a glass however
transparent, we may well practise our eyes by making this life
spiritual, as we shall have also to strive to do in that to which we go.
My predecessor in this living, doubtless a very worthy man (for I knew
him not), has left it recorded on his tombstone--as I will show you if
you will come into the Church--that he was 'full of cares and full of
years, of neither weary, but full of hope and of heaven.' I should
desire that it may be faithfully recorded of me that I was the same!"
John went with him into the Church, and read the old vicar's epitaph,
and several more--for he was very much taken with the old gentleman's
talk, and indeed stayed with him the whole day: his host adding a dish
of eggs and a glass of small beer to his daily very frugal meal. Johnny
invited him to come to the Priory, and so left him, more pleased and
satisfied with this than with any of his other visits. As he rode back
through the darkening valley, and through the oak wood before the Priory
gate, he little thought that not only should he not see the old Parson
again, but that his quiet contemplative life was come to an end, and his
speculations would now be chased away by a life of action; and for the
future the decision, often to be made at once, as to what he ought to
do, would appear of more consequence than that other decision, which had
seemed to him, sometimes, the only important one, as to what it was
right to think.
When he reached the Priory, he found the Jesuit had returned, and when
at supper he inquired of Johnny if his ride had been a pleasant one, as
the servant had told him he had been out since the morning, Johnny began
at once, and told him all that had been passing in his mind since the
priest had given him the book, and of all the directors he had sought
for his guidance. Father St. Clare listened (though it may be doubted
whether the recital was altogether agreeable to him) with great
attention, and seemed pleased and amused at the boy's descriptions,
which showed his pupil's fine perception of character.
"You have taken a wise course," he said, "which has led you to see much
of the workings of the minds of men: this is the most useful study you
can follow, and the most harmless to yourself, if you keep your own
counsel, and gain knowledge without imparting it. I am glad you have
told me all this, because it shows me I have not been deceived in you,
but that the time is fully ripe for you to play the part your father and
I have destined for you, and to play it--to great extent--alone. The
day after to-morrow we shall go up to London; on the way, I will open to
you the position of parties, the crisis of affairs--a position and a
crisis such as never was before in this or any other country! You are
very young, but you are years older in mind than most of your age, and
your youth renders you all the more fit for the work I have for you to
do. I trust you without reserve; I shall commit to your keeping secrets
which would, if revealed, bring the highest heads in England, not to
speak of my own, to the block. I have no fear of you."
Inglesant listened breathlessly and with open eyes to this address. It
made his heart beat high with delight and excitement. Death--nay, the
bitterest torture--would be nothing to him, if only he could win this
man's approval, and be not only true but successful in his trust. His
entire devotion to the Jesuit cannot be looked upon as anything
wonderful, for the whole mental power of the latter, directed by the
nicest art--a power and an art at that time not surpassed in Europe--had
been directed to this end upon the boy's susceptible nature, and the
result could not be doubtful.
The Jesuit might well say that the crisis was imminent, and the position
of affairs peculiar. Plotters were at work in all directions, and for
different ends; but the schemes of all miscarried, and the expectations
of all proved to be miscalculations: those of the Roman Catholics--with
whom St. Clare was associated--more than all. Their expectations were
at the highest pitch. The Court influence was with them to a large
extent. The Church of England was at its highest summit of glory and
power, and its standing-point was almost their own. Laud was partly
gained. He had refused a cardinal's hat; but in such a way that the
offer was immediately renewed, and remained open. It seemed, indeed, as
though little more remained to do, when this goodly edifice began to
crumble, slowly, indeed, but surely, and with accelerating speed. A new
power appeared in the country; hostile, indeed, to Catholicism, but,
what was much worse, also slightly contemptuous of it, directing its
full force against the Church and the Crown. The Church collapsed with
wonderful suddenness; and the Crown was compelled to seek its own
preservation, extending what little aid it might be able to render to
the Church; neither had the least power or time to give to the
assistance of their former allies. All this had not happened when the
Jesuit and Johnny rode up to London, but it was foreshadowed clearly in
the immediate future.
*CHAPTER IV.*
Father St. Clare and Johnny set out the next day, accompanied by two
servants on horseback. The road was quite new to Inglesant after they
left Malmsbury; and he was greatly delighted and amused with all he saw.
The fair landscapes, the prospects of goodly cities with the towers and
spires of their Churches rising into the clear smokeless air; the
stately houses and gardens, the life of the country villages, the fairs
and markets, strolling players, the morris dancing, the drinking and
smoking parties, the conjurors and mountebanks, peasants quarrelling
"together by the ears," and buying and selling; wandering beggars, and
half-witted people called "Tom o' Bedlams" who were a recognised order
of mendicants--everything amused and delighted him, especially with his
companion's witty and penetrating comments upon all they met with.
At Windsor they walked on the terrace, from which Johnny saw the view,
which was then considered only second to that of Greenwich, of the river
and many pleasant hills and valleys, villages and fair houses, far and
near. As they rode along, at every suitable opportunity, and at night
after supper at the inns, the Jesuit explained to Johnny the position of
public affairs. He told him that though the power of the King and the
Archbishop was apparently at its greatest height, as the trial and
condemnation of Laud's traducers, Prynne, Baswick, and Burton had just
been decided, and the trial of Hampden for refusal to pay ship-money was
about to commence, yet nevertheless, the impossibility of governing
without a Parliament was becoming so evident, and the violent and
aggressive temper of the people was so marked, that he, and those like
him, who possessed the best information of what was passing throughout
all classes, and among all parties, however secret, considered that
changes of a very remarkable character were imminent. The temper of the
people, he said, was the more remarkable, because in the one case,
libellers like Prynne would have been put to death without mercy in
either of the preceding reigns, and no notice taken by the people; and
the tax, called ship's money, was so light and so fairly levied, as to
be scarcely felt. The Archbishop, he said, was determined to force the
service book upon the Scots; a most unwise and perilous proceeding at
the present moment, and he was informed by the emissary priests then in
the north of England and Scotland, that the resistance to it would be
determined, and that the Scottish malcontents were supported by the
Puritan party in the English Parliament. Under these circumstances, he
explained to Johnny, that a change had taken place in the policy of some
of the Roman Catholic party, who had formerly acted with Mr. Inglesant
and Father St. Clare, and they had arrived at the conclusion that the
Church of England was no longer worth the pains of humouring and
conciliating. The Queen had been advised to attempt the perversion of
the Parliamentary leaders, and several of the Catholic plotters had
undertaken a similar enterprise. Father St. Clare told Johnny candidly,
that he neither sympathised entirely with these views nor altogether
with those of the party to which he had hitherto belonged. On the one
hand, he had arrived at the conclusion that Laud was a true servant of
the Church of England, and would never consent to submission to Rome,
except on terms which could not be granted, but on the other, he had so
long regarded the Church as the natural ally of Rome, and the
uselessness of attempting to win over the Puritans was so apparent, that
he had not entered warmly into these new schemes. He, however, was
inclined to think that were a change to take place, and the Puritan
party to gain the supreme power in the State, the re-action among the
upper classes would be so great, that the Romish faith would gain
numberless converts. He finally pressed upon Johnny the necessity of
great prudence, telling him that he should be immediately placed about
the person of the Queen as one of her pages; and, as soon as possible,
transferred to the King's service in as high a post as the influence to
be exerted could command, in order that he should possess as much
influence as possible: that in the meantime his business would be simply
to become acquainted with as many of all parties as he possibly could,
and to gain their confidence, opportunities for doing which should be
given him both in the assemblies he would meet at his father's house,
and in other company into which he should be introduced. He warned him
against crediting anything he heard, unless assured of its truth by
himself--the most exaggerated reports upon every subject, he said,
prevailing in the Court and city. The conversions to Romanism, he told
him, though numerous, were nothing like so many as were reported, as
might be supposed when the reputed ones included such men as Mr.
Endymion Porter, the most faithful servant of the King and a firm Church
of England man, though, like many others, entertaining very friendly
opinions of the Papists.
Conversing in this way, they entered London one afternoon at the
beginning of August 1637. Johnny, as may be supposed, was all eyes as
they entered London, which they did by Kensington and St. James's Park.
The beautiful buildings at Kensington, and the throng of gentry and
carriages in the park astonished him beyond measure. As they passed
through the park many persons recognised Father St. Clare, but they
passed on without stopping, through the gateway by the side of the
beautiful banqueting-house into the narrow street that led by Charing
Cross and the Strand. The crowds were now of a different kind to those
they had passed in the park. They passed several groups assembled round
quack doctors and itinerant speakers, one of whom was relating how the
congregation of a Parish Church the Sunday before had been alarmed by an
insurrection of armed Papists--stories of this kind being then a common
invention to excite and stir up the people. At one of these groups they
were startled by hearing a man who was selling books, announce the name
as "Jesus' Worship Confuted;" as the thing was new to the Jesuit, he
stopped and ordered one of his men to dismount and bring him one, when
it was found to be a tract against ceremonies, and especially against
bowing at the name of Jesus. They resumed their passage down the
Strand, Father St. Clare remarking on the strange ideas a stranger would
attach to the state of religion in England if he listened only to the
opposing cries. All down the Strand the Jesuit pointed out the
beautiful houses of the nobility, and the glimpses of the river between
them. They stopped at last at Somerset House, then a large rambling
series of buildings extending round several courts with gardens and
walks on the river banks, and a handsome water-gate leading to the
river. They went to the lodgings of Father Cory, the Queen's confessor,
who was at home, and received them hospitably. Johnny was so taken up
with all the astonishing sights around him, especially with the
wonderful view up and down the river, with the innumerable boats and
barges, the palaces and gardens, and churches and steeples on the banks,
that it was a day or two before he could talk or think calmly of
anything. The next morning the Jesuit took him to his father's house on
the north side of the Strand, where he saw both his father and brother,
it not being the latter's turn in waiting at the Court. Mr. Inglesant
was not more affectionate to his son than usual; he appeared anxious and
worn, but he told him he was pleased at his arrival, that he must obey
Father St. Clare in all things, and that he would become a useful and
successful man. Father St. Clare had sent for a Court tailor, and
ordered a proper dress and accoutrements for Johnny, who was astonished
at his own appearance when attired in lace and satin, and his long hair
combed and dressed. The Jesuit regarded him with satisfaction, and told
him they were going at once to the Queen. Mr. Inglesant's coach was
sent for them, and was waiting in one of the courts; and entering, they
were driven through London to Whitehall.
It was the third of August, and the Archbishop was marrying the Duke of
Lennox to the Lady Mary Villiers, the daughter of the great Duke of
Buckingham, in his Chapel at Lambeth. The King was expected to go to
Lambeth to be present at the ceremony, but this was of no consequence to
the Jesuit, who wished to introduce his protege to the Queen alone. When
they reached Whitehall, however, they found that both their Majesties
had gone to the wedding, and the day being very rainy, news had been
sent from Lambeth immediately after the ceremony that the Queen was
returning, and she was then on the water. The Jesuit and Johnny left
their carriage and went down to the water-gate. The Jesuit was
evidently well known at the Court, and way was made for him everywhere.
At that time the greatest laxity was allowed to the Catholics, and other
priests besides the Queen's confessors were tolerated openly in London.
As they reached the water-gate, the rain had ceased for a time, and a
gleam of sunlight shone upon the river, and rested on the Queen's barge
as it approached. Johnny's heart beat with excitement, as it reached the
steps amid a flourish of trumpets, and the guard presented arms. The
Queen, splendidly dressed, came from under the awning and up the steps,
accompanied by her gentlemen and the ladies of her Court. Johnny never
forgot the sight to his dying day, and it was doubtless one to be long
remembered by those who saw it for the first time. When the Queen was
near the top of the stairs and saw St. Clare, she stopped, and extending
her hand she welcomed him to the Court. She seemed to remember
something, and spoke to him rapidly in French, to which he replied with
the utmost deference, in the same language. Then falling back, he
indicated Johnny to the Queen, saying--"This is young John Inglesant,
your Majesty, of whom I spoke to your Grace concerning the business you
wot of."
The Queen looked kindly at the boy, who indeed was handsome enough to
incline any woman in his favour.
"They are a handsome race," she said, still speaking French; "this one,
I think, still more so than his brother."
"This is a refined spirit, your Majesty," said the Jesuit, in a low
voice, "of whom I hope great things, if your Majesty will aid."
"You wish to be one of my servants, my pretty boy," said the Queen,
extending her hand to Johnny, who kissed it on one knee; "Father Hall
will tell you what to do."
And she passed on, followed by her train, who looked at St. Clare and
the boy with curiosity, several nodding and speaking to the Jesuit as
they proceeded.
Johnny was duly entered the next day as one of the supernumerary pages
without salary, and entered upon his duties at once, which consisted
simply of waiting in anterooms and following the Queen at a distance in
her walks. This life, however, was beyond measure interesting to
Johnny: the beautiful rooms and galleries in the palace, with their
wonderful contents were an inexhaustible source of delight to him;
especially the King's collection of paintings which was kept in a single
apartment, and was admired over Europe. Father Hall took him also to
many gentlemen's virtuoso collections of paintings and curiosities,
where his intelligence and delight attracted the interest and kindness
of all his hosts. Father St. Clare also gave him from time to time,
small editions of the classics and other books which he could keep in
his pocket, and read in the anterooms and galleries when he was in
waiting. He would have been astonished, if the Jesuit had not told him
it would be so, at the number of persons of all ranks and opinions in
the Court who spoke to him and endeavoured to make his acquaintance,
that they might remember him at a future time, evidently at the request
of the priest.
Shortly after he came to London he was present at the Chapel Royal, at
Whitehall, when the King took the sacrament and presented the gold
pieces coined especially for this purpose. The sight impressed Johnny
very much. The beautiful Chapel, the high altar on which candles were
burning, the Bishops and the Dean of the Chapel in their copes, the
brilliant crowd of courtiers, the King--devout and stately--alone before
the altar, the exquisite music, and the singing of the King's choir,
which was not surpassed in Rome itself. As the sunlight from the
stained windows fell on this wonderful scene, it is not surprising that
young Inglesant was affected by it, nor that this young spirit looking
out for the first time on the world and its surprising scenes, and
pageants, and symbols, realised the truth of what the old Parson had
told him, and converted all these sights into spiritual visions; this
one in particular, which led back his thoughts, as it was meant, to the
three kings of old, who knelt and offered gifts before the mysterious
Child.
Johnny saw his brother frequently, as the latter had grown out of his
page-hood, and held another post about the Court, which gave him much
leisure. The two young courtiers were at this time more alike than
ever, and were much admired at Court as a pair. At one of the Queen's
Masques, about this time, they acted parts somewhat similar to the
brothers in Comus, but requiring greater resemblance, as in
Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors, and both their acting and appearance was
applauded by the King himself, who began to take notice of Johnny. Mr.
Inglesant, the elder, had never been a favourite with the King, who was
aware of his leaning to Popery, and indeed, at this time, both he and
his friend the Jesuit were very much discouraged at the aspect of
affairs. The position of the Papists had never been so good as at
present, but this very circumstance was the ruin of their party. All
restraints and reproaches of former times seemed forgotten; a public
agent from Rome resided openly at the Court, and was magnificently feted
and caressed; the priests, though to avow popish orders was by law
punishable with death, went about and preached openly without fear; and
it was related as a sign of the times, that a Jesuit at Paris who was
coming into England, coolly called on the English ambassador there, who
knew his profession, offering his services in London, as though there
were no penal law to condemn him the moment he landed! High Mass at
Somerset House was attended at noon-day by great numbers of the Papists,
who returned together from it through the streets as openly as the
congregation of the Savoy, and the neighbouring churches. Their priests
succeeded in converting several ladies of some of the greatest families,
thereby provoking the anger of their relations, and causing them to long
for their suppression. They held large political conferences openly,
and ostentatiously subscribed a large sum of money to assist the King
against the Scots. Clarendon, indeed, says that they acted as though
they had been suborned by these latter to root out their own religion.