_Same Night_.
Resolved to make the Circuit of the Cottages, but onlie reached the
first, wherein I found poor _Nell_ in such Grief of Body and Mind, that
I was avised to wait with her a long Time. Askt why she had not sent
to us for Relief; was answered she had thought of doing soe, but was
feared of making too free. After a lengthened Visitt, which seemed to
relieve her Mind, and certaynlie relieved mine, I bade her Farewell,
and at the Wicket met my Father coming up with a playn-favoured but
scholarlike looking reverend Man. He sayd, "_Moll_, I could not think
what had become of you." I answered, I hoped I had not kept him
waiting for Dinner--poor _Nell_ had entertayned me longer than I wisht,
with the Catalogue of her Troubles. The Stranger looking attentively
at me, observed that may be the poor Woman had entertayned an Angel
unawares; and added, "Doubt not, Madam, we woulde rather await our
Dinner than that you should have curtayled your Message of Charity."
Hithertoe, my Father had not named this Gentleman to me; but now he
sayd, "Child, this is the Reverend Doctor _Jeremy Taylor_, Chaplain in
Ordinarie to his Majesty, and whom you know I have heard more than once
preach before the King since he abode in _Oxford_." Thereon I made a
lowly Reverence, and we walked homewards together. At first, he
discoursed chiefly with my Father on the Troubles of the Times, and
then he drew me into the Dialogue, in the Course of which I let fall a
Saying of Mr. _Agnew's_, which drew from the reverend Gentleman a
respectfulle Look I felt I no Way deserved. Soe then I had to explain
that the Saying was none of mine, and felt ashamed he shoulde suppose
me wiser than I was, especiallie as he commended my Modesty. But we
progressed well, and he soon had the Discourse all to himself, for
Squire _Paice_ came up, and detained _Father_, while the Doctor and I
walked on. I could not help reflecting how odd it was, that I, whom
Nature had endowed with such a very ordinarie Capacitie, and scarce
anie Taste for Letters, shoulde continuallie be thrown into the
Companie of the cleverest of Men,--first, Mr. _Milton_: then Mr.
_Agnew_; and now, this Doctor _Jeremy Taylor_. But, like the other
two, he is not merely clever, he is Christian and good. How much I
learnt in this short Interview! for short it seemed, though it must
have extended over a good half Hour. He sayd, "Perhaps, young Lady,
the Time may come when you shall find safer Solace in the Exercise of
the Charities than of the Affections. Safer: for, not to consider how
a successfulle or unsuccessfulle Passion for a human Being of like
Infirmities with ourselves, oft stains and darkens and shortens the
Current of Life, even the chastened Love of a Mother for her Child, as
of _Octavia_, who swooned at '_Tu, Marcellus, eris_,'--or of Wives for
their Husbands, as _Artemisia_ and _Laodamia_, sometimes amounting to
Idolatry--nay, the Love of Friend for Friend, with alle its sweet
Influences and animating Transports, yet exceeding the Reasonableness
of that of _David_ for _Jonathan_, or of our blessed _Lord_ for _St.
John_ and the Family of _Lazarus_, may procure far more Torment than
Profit: even if the Attachment be reciprocal, and well grounded, and
equallie matcht, which often it is not. Then interpose human Tempers,
and Chills, and Heates, and Slyghtes fancied or intended, which make
the vext Soul readie to wish it had never existed. How smalle a Thing
is a human Heart! you might grasp it in your little Hand; and yet its
Strifes and Agonies are enough to distend a Skin that should cover the
whole World! But, in the Charities, what Peace! yea, they distill
Sweetnesse even from the Unthankfulle, blessing him that gives more
than him that receives; while, in the Main, they are laid out at better
Interest than our warmest Affections, and bring in a far richer Harvest
of Love and Gratitude. Yet, let our Affections have their fitting
Exercise too, staying ourselves with the Reflection, that there is
greater Happinesse, after alle Things sayd, in loving than in being
loved, save by the _God_ of Love who first loved us, and that they who
dwell in Love dwell in _Him_."
Then he went on to speak of the manifold Acts and Divisions of Charity;
as much, methought, in the Vein of a Poet as a Preacher; and he minded
me much of that Scene in the tenth Book of the _Fairie Queene_, soe
lately read to us by Mr. _Agnew_, wherein the _Red Cross Knight_ and
_Una_ were shown _Mercy_ at her Work.
_Aug. 10, 1644_.
A Pack-horse from _Sheepscote_ just reported, laden with a goodlie
Store of Books, besides sundrie smaller Tokens of _Rose's_ thoughtfulle
Kindnesse. I have now methodicallie divided my Time into stated Hours,
of Prayer, Exercise, Studdy, Housewiferie, and Acts of Mercy, on
however a humble Scale; and find mine owne Peace of Mind thereby
increased notwithstanding the Darknesse of publick and Dullnesse of
private Affairs.
Made out the Meaning of "Cynosure" and "Cimmerian Darknesse." . . .
_Aug. 15, 1644_.
Full sad am I to learn that Mr. _Milton_ hath published another Book in
Advocacy of Divorce. Alas, why will he chafe against the Chain, and
widen the cruel Division between us? My Father is outrageous on the
Matter, and speaks soe passionatelie of him, that it is worse than not
speaking of him at alle, which latelie I was avised to complain of.
_Aug. 30, 1644_.
_Dick_ beginneth to fancie himself in Love with _Audrey Paice--_an
Attachment that will doe him noe good: his Tastes alreadie want
raising, and she will onlie lower them, I feare,--a comely, romping,
noisie Girl, that, were she but a Farmer's Daughter, woulde be the Life
and Soul of alle the Whitsun-ales, Harvest-homes, and Hay-makings in
the Country: in short, as fond of idling and merrymaking as I once was
myself: onlie I never was soe riotous.
I beginne to see Faults in _Dick_ and _Harry_ I never saw before. Is
my Taste bettering, or my Temper worsenning? At alle Events, we have
noe cross Words, for I expect them not to alter, knowing how hard it is
to doe soe by myself.
I look forward with Pleasure to my _Sheepscote_ Visitt. Dear _Mother_
returneth to-morrow. Good Dr. _Taylor_ hath twice taken the Trouble to
walk over from _Oxford_ to see me, but he hath now left, and we may
never meet agayn. His Visitts have beene very precious to me: I think
he hath some Glimmering of my sad Case: indeed, who knows it not? At
parting he sayd, smiling, he hoped he should yet hear of my making
Offerings to _Viriplaca_ on _Mount Palatine_; then added, gravelie,
"You know where reall Offerings may be made and alwaies
accepted--Offerings of spare Half-hours and Five-minutes, when we shut
the Closet Door and commune with our own Hearts and are still." Alsoe
he sayd, "There are Sacrifices to make which sometimes wring our very
Hearts to offer; but our gracious _God_ accepts them neverthelesse, if
our Feet be really in the right Path, even though, like _Chryseis_, we
look back, weeping."
He sayd . . . But how manie Things as beautifulle and true did I hear
my Husband say, which passed by me like the idle Wind that I regarded
not!
_Sept. 8, 1644_.
_Harry_ hath just broughte in the News of his Majesty's Success in the
West. Lord _Essex's_ Army hath beene completely surrounded by the
royal Troops; himself forct to escape in a Boat to _Plymouth_, and all
the Arms, Artillerie, Baggage, etc., of _Skippon's_ Men have fallen
into the Hands of the King. _Father_ is soe pleased that he hath
mounted the Flag, and given double Allowance of Ale to his Men.