The Commonwealth is sick of its own choice.
Shakspeare.
The aspect of Ribblesdale and the adjoining country, was completely
changed, during the five years absence of the Beaumont family. The
fields and villages, notwithstanding the two last years of comparative
repose, bore mournful marks of the ravages of civil war; trade was still
stopped and agriculture suspended. The people, disappointed in their
hopes of freedom and prosperity by their new masters, longed for the
restoration of their King, whose saint-like demeanour, during his long
captivity, contradicted the calumnies which his enemies had propagated,
and shewed him in his true light, alike conspicuous for his ability, his
fortitude, and his misfortunes. The reign of freedom had ended in
military despotism; equality had created a tyrant; zeal had introduced
fanaticism and hypocrisy, and discontent was every where so ripe, that
the presence of a victorious army, and the vigilance of almost as
numerous a host of spies and informers, could not prevent attempts being
made (in almost every part of the kingdom) to liberate the King, and
restore the old order of things. But where to find funds and leaders,
was the chief difficulty. The heads of most noble families,
distinguished for loyalty, were either slain, or exiled; their estates
confiscated or wasted by the pressure of enormous fines, their
residences burnt or pillaged, and their farms laid waste. The few who
remained in England, watched and betrayed by their own servants, knew
not how to act, or whom to trust, for every tie of obligation, as well
as all sense of subordination and respect for superiors, were entirely
annihilated.
In passing Lathom-house, Dr. Beaumont pondered on that celebrated scene
of determined female heroism. Though the noble pile bore many marks of
the arduous conflict it had sustained, its walls (like the family to
which it belonged) still displayed the unyielding superiority of
aristocratic loyalty. But Waverly Hall was a complete ruin. A few of the
meaner offices, and a part of the walls, marked where the residence
stood, which once sheltered crafty selfishness. The park afforded a
temporary asylum to a gang of gipseys, whose cattle grazed unmolested on
the unclaimed demesne, once guarded even from the intrusion of admiring
curiosity, by the secluding jealousy of a cold-hearted worldling, whose
pride counteracted his ostentation, and whose timidity was even greater
than his self-love.
Dr. Beaumont was himself the herald of his own return. His humble
equipage attracted no attention. His first care being to lodge his
family, he sought the house of Dame Humphreys. The streets of the
village were silent and deserted. Neither the loom, the flail, nor the
anvil were heard; not a child was to be seen at play; every thing looked
as if this was a portion of that city where progressive action is
suspended, and the sun hangs level over the ocean without power of
sinking. Dr. Beaumont, however, found Dame Humphreys actively employed;
and a superabundance of good cheer shewed that she was intent on
purposes of hospitality. She welcomed the exiled Rector and his family
with cordial transport; and assured him, though she had heard as many
fine men since he left them as there were stars in the sky, she had
never sat under any one by whom she had been so much edified.
The Beaumonts had many questions to ask, and no one was better endowed
with the quality of free communication than this kind-hearted dame. She
accounted for the silence of the village and her own extraordinary
bustle, by stating that it was exercise-day; a meeting of ministers had
been at the godly work for eight hours; and she doubted not, after so
long buffeting Satan, they would come away main hungry. "My poor
Gaffer," said she, "always brings all he can to our house. They tell him
a blessing comes upon all those who furnish a chamber for wayfaring
prophets, and set on pottage for them; but for my part I see it not, and
begin to wonder whether these are prophets or no. As for our Gaffer, he
has left off drinking and quarrelling, to be sure, which Your Reverence
had used to rate him for at times; but then he did look after the farm
and the cattle, and saw things went right. But now he says, let the
morrow take care for itself; so we have nothing but preaching, and
praying, and pecking at other people, and telling of experiences and
stumbling-blocks, and abusing those who don't hold all that we do; and
all this while the ricks grow less and less every year. And then when
any thing goes wrong in the house, they pop it into a sermon, not as
Your Reverence did when you preached about the ten commandments, but a
preachment of an hour about such frivolous things as set husbands
a-scolding their wives for spoiling their dinner, or not mending their
clothes; and our poor Gaffer is grown so cast down ever since Priggins
told him he thought he was a reprobate, that he says it is a crying sin
to look happy; so he keeps praying on till we have no time to practise."
Isabel inquired how the children were able to command attention to such
long services; and Dame Humphreys owned the change in this respect was
wonderful. "To be sure," said she, "they do sometimes fall sick; but
there is a vast number of thriving little saints growing up among us,
who can find out a legal preacher in a moment, and tell you if he is a
fine man before he is out of breath the first time. There's my
grand-daughter (Nancy we used to call her, but they have since given her
some hard name I never can recollect), she is only nine years old, and
is such a gifted creature that she has chosen her religion, and says she
will be a Brownist, for there is no other way to be saved. But her
sister Hephzebah has not had her call yet, and says till she has she is
to give no account for what she does, and afterwards sin will not lie at
her door. Your Reverence shakes your head; but you will now find a vast
deal of learning in the parish, and hard words, and every body able to
talk with you; but I say again, that what with spending their time in
idleness, and slandering each other, and sighing and groaning they don't
know for what, and making feasts for ministers, and night meetings, and
praying against the King, and cursing the bishops, and pulling down the
church--give me the old times again, and the old way of going to
Heaven."
Dr. Beaumont sighed at this strongly coloured, but artless picture of
fanatical licence, and changed the subject by inquiring the fate of the
Waverly family. Their history was indeed tragical. "Poor Sir William,"
Dame Humphreys said, "had turned, and trimmed, and cut in, and cut out,
till nobody knew whether he was of any side at all, till, just as Prince
Rupert raised the siege of Lathom House, when, thinking the King was
sure to conquer, mid wanting to be made a Lord, he joined the Prince
with a small troop of horse, intending (his neighbours thought) to
gallop away before the battle began, for Sir William hated the sight of
blood. But so it was; his time was come, and then there is no escaping,
for Sir William was shot in his own quarters in a night-skirmish--and
who did they think by?" Here she turned pale with horror, and the
natural simplicity of her language seemed elevated by the emotions
arising from the dreadful tale she had to relate.--"By his own son. O!
Your Honour, it is too true. A kinsman of mine saw the deed done, and
the ground has looked blasted ever since. But young Sir Harry, as now
ought to be, little thought it was his father when he called him a
drunken old cavalier; for the poor old gentleman trembled so, he could
not cry for quarter till his son had given him his death's wound; and he
saw by the flash of the pistol who it was, and called to mind how he had
made him serve in the Parliament army against his will. So he just
groaned out, "God is just, Harry," and died. It was the most piteous
sight; for the poor youth fell on the dead body, and groaned, and tore
his hair, and beat himself in such a manner, till his soldiers bore him
away; and what has become of him since that day no soul knows, for he
has never come to claim the estate, nor to look after any thing; so
Parliament seized it all, because Sir William died at last a Loyalist.
But nobody will buy it, for they cannot make a title, as Sir Harry has
not forfeited, and may be alive. Beside, people said the house was
haunted, so it has never been tenanted; and whoever wants to build,
fetches it away piece-meal; and the gypsies camp in the Park when they
come from the neighbouring fairs, and all goes to ruin like the
time-serving family who lived there."
The awful reflections on retributive justice which the fate of this
unprincipled man excited, were interrupted by the return of Humphreys,
who ushered in some of his divines. The change which his wife described
was visible in his horror-stricken countenance. He had been formerly a
man of a sordid worldly disposition and hard unyielding temper, on whom
the mild Christian persuasions of Dr. Beaumont had occasionally made
good impressions, though these were as often blunted by the power of
long indulged habits. But when such a man was roused from his stupor by
the cauteries of Calvinism, despair was more likely to take possession
of his mind than the pious energy and humble hopes which follow true
repentance. Priggins indeed boasted of Humphreys as a convert, on the
ground of his being restrained from the public commission of some faults
in which he had formerly indulged; but if one evil spirit had been
dispossessed, seven more wicked had taken up their abode in his heart.
He was terrified, not awakened; plunged in an abyss of desperation and
misanthropy, not excited to a life acceptable to God or useful to man.
The sight of Dr. Beaumont recalled to his mind many acts of fraud and
injustice which he had formerly committed against him; but the long
exercises, as they were called, to which he had been listening, had not
illustrated the universal promise of mercy to penitent sinners; they
held out no encouragement to co-operate with the divine call to newness
of life which the gospel gives to all mankind; they gave no explanation
of reformation and restitution as necessary parts of repentance. Much to
their own ease, and with daring disregard of all the plain and practical
parts of Scripture, the preachers successively employed themselves in
expounding what they called dark texts, on which they built their
favourite system; impious in theory and destructive in practice. They
spoke of election and reprobation as positive, irreversible decrees of
God, no ways resulting from the conduct of man, whom they stated to be a
mere inefficient vessel filled with grace and destined to glory, or
heaped full of pollution and devoted to eternal destruction, according
to the arbitrary will of the Framer, without any liberty of choice in
himself, or any power of expediting his own faith or final
justification. They spoke of the saving call as discernibly
supernatural, preceded by bodily as well as mental torture, and
instantaneously followed by a perceptible assurance that they could
never more sin, that the righteousness of their Redeemer was imputed to
them, and that, as his merits were all-sufficient, nothing was required
of them but the supineness of passive faith. This routine of doctrines,
varied according to the different tempers and phraseology of the
preachers, and rendered yet more obscure by bold metaphors and strained
allusions, was what poor Humphreys incessantly listened to, fancying he
was thus taking care of his soul, and vainly hoping he would gather some
instructions which would assuage his secret horrors. He was miserable
when not employed in this manner; yet, as no start of enthusiasm ever
told him that the saving call had taken place even in the congregations
which he mistook for the courts of the Lord, he rather hoped for, than
found relief from his tortures. Pale and haggard in his looks, morose
and sullen in his manners, restless and dissatisfied, he revived the
disputations of the conventicle at the table, calling on Dr. Beaumont to
tell what he thought of some points of doctrine on which his ministers
could not agree. The Doctor attempted to speak, but his voice was soon
drowned by the Stentorian lungs and tautological verbiage of his
opponent. Only one sentence that he uttered was distinctly heard, which
was a quotation from the pious Hammond, that "exemplary virtue must
restore the church." A general cry was raised against this sentiment.
One repeated a text from St. Paul, supposed to assert the inefficacy of
works; another observed, it was presumptuous to dictate to Providence.
Some called him a formalist; others a Pharisee; while a third party, yet
more metaphysical, denied that men, strictly speaking, had any power to
act at all. Priggins at last rose, and, with many plausible pretences of
charity, proposed that they should all pray for their offending brother,
which was done in the anathematizing style which, in those days, was
called intercession: "Lord, open the eyes of this reprobate sinner.
Pluck him as a burning brand out of the furnace of thy wrath. Make him
see that he is a vessel filled with spiritual pride, hypocrisy, and
barren legality. Punish him for the saving of his soul till he repents
of his ungodly enmity to us thy chosen favourites, whom thou hast raised
to the work of conversion, and penned in thy fold to eternal life," &c.
Dr. Beaumont and his family withdrew, in compassionate silence, from
this profane perversion of devotion, which discovered the same spirit of
intolerance and persecution that characterized the darkest periods of
Popery. A project had been formed by Isabel, to which the rest of the
family readily assented. This was to take up their abode for the present
in the untenanted ruins of Waverly-hall, and endeavour to prevent its
further dilapidation. With the assistance of Williams, she re-inclosed
the garden, and put a few of the outer tenements into that state of
comfort which cleanliness supplies. Dame Humphreys conscientiously
restored all the moveables she held in trust to furnish their
apartments; and, as Dr. Beaumont brought with him a protection from the
government, neither Morgan nor Priggins could prevent him from residing
in the parish as long as he conducted himself in an inoffensive manner.
As to Davis, since his induction into the Rectory, he had gradually
carnalized (to use one of his own favourite expressions); and, being
grown sleek and contented, he preferred reposing in his arm-chair to
storming in the pulpit, congratulating himself with having reformed the
church, which he effected by removing every ornament as superstitious,
stripping public worship of every decency, publicly burning the Common
Prayer books, and denying the sacraments to all who were not
Covenanters. Having done all this, he thought it time to rest from his
labours, and devoted his days to those gross indulgences of appetite
which are not unfrequently the solaces of men who consider the
enjoyments of mental taste as criminal, permitting his neglected flock
to be collected by Priggins, or any other hungry itinerant who was
training himself as a theological tyro, previous to his being settled in
an incumbency.
Among these tents of Kedar, Dr. Beaumont fixed his habitation with a
soul thirsting for peace, and a mind disposed to subdue his opponents by
those invincible weapons, a meek and quiet spirit, and a holy,
inoffensive, and useful life. His narrow finances, derived chiefly from
a precarious fund, allowed not the practice of that liberality which is
the surest means of attracting a crowd of panegyrists; and his scanty
means were still further taxed by what he esteemed the duty of sending
assistance to many gallant royalists at this time in arms for the
imprisoned King; in particular to those, who, with the brave, repentant
Morrice, surprised Pontefract Castle, and made from thence those
courageous sallies and predatory incursions which gave employment to the
Parliamentary troops in that quarter, and prevented them from uniting to
overwhelm the succours which Sir Marmaduke Langdale was conducting to
join Duke Hamilton and the Scotch Loyalists. But, however limited its
means, a good heart will ever discover some way of shewing its
benevolence. Charity was now a scanty rill, not an ample stream; but its
source was fed by a regular supply, and where it ran it fertilized.
Constantia roused her mind from the apathy of grief to obey and support
her father. She found she could instruct the ignorant; and though no
longer able to furnish materials for clothing the naked, she could cut
out garments and sew them for those who were too ill-informed to be
expert in female housewifery. Isabel and she gathered herbs; Mrs.
Mellicent superintended their distillation, and again consulted "The
Family Physician," in forming ointments and compounding cordials; Dr.
Beaumont went from house to house, trying to conciliate his
parishioners, and to recall their wanderings, in nothing changed but the
paleness of his countenance and the homeliness of his attire, still
reproving with mild authority, and instructing with affectionate
solicitude; while his appearance spoke a heart yearning over the sorrows
and sins of the kingdom, and habits necessarily restricted to that bare
sufficiency which just supports life. The manners of the young ladies
were equally mild, uncomplaining, and respectable; the only difference
was, that Constantia was pensive and dejected, Isabel active and
cheerful in adversity. The former seemed to move in a joyless routine of
duty; but Isabel was so animated that only the most minute observer
could tell that she was not perfectly happy, and hence she gained the
character of having an unfeeling heart.
The affectionate respect which the villagers had long felt for their old
pastor soon began to revive. Man naturally looks on the unfortunate with
pity. The Beaumonts no longer excited envy, which (such is our proneness
to offend) is often the substitute for gratitude. Dr. Beaumont was now
their superior only in goodness and wisdom; a superiority more easily
endured than that created by affluence or a larger share of temporal
indulgencies. Many too began to be weary of the tautology and confusion
of their arbitrary services, which, depending upon the humour, or (as
they proudly called it) the inspiration of their minister, often wearied
instead of gratifying the curiosity of the hearers. They recollected the
Liturgy of the Church of England with somewhat of the feeling we
entertain for a dead friend, remembering all his excellences, forgetting
his imperfections, and lamenting that in his lifetime we were often
inclined captiously to condemn his whole conduct. By returning to that
church from which they had been led, by what they now saw was the spirit
of delusion, they exercised the freedom of choice which was so dear to
their proud feelings; and it soon became the request of many of the
parishioners, that Dr. Beaumont would read to them the church service,
and expound the Scripture in the manner prescribed by her articles. To
read the Liturgy was now become a statutable offence; but Dr. Beaumont
adopted, as an expedient, what was then resorted to by many divines[1]
well versed in difficult cases of conscience--changing the expressions,
but preserving a meaning as closely allied to the old worship as the
times would admit. Yet even this transposed and disguised form was too
opposite to the doctrines, and, (may it not be said?) too superior to
the productions of the new teachers to be permitted with impunity. Hence
Dr. Beaumont found it necessary, for his own safety, to collect his
little flock on a Sunday evening, in an unfrequented valley surrounded
by hills, on one of which a centinel was placed to prevent their being
surprised in this interdicted worship; and thus this church, literally
exiled and driven into the wilderness, performed the Christian sacrifice
of prayer and praise.
The storm of war, however, soon interrupted their devotion; and, rolling
fearfully from the North, came close to the dwelling where the pious
pastor endeavoured to drink the waters of affliction in privacy. The
Duke of Hamilton had now collected an army, from whose efforts to wipe
off the shame of their countrymen the Covenanters, in delivering up the
King to his merciless enemies, a glorious result was expected. With this
hope they entered England by way of Carlisle; and, preceded by the
English forces, led by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, they marched into
Lancashire full of zeal and confidence, but negligent of that
discipline, and inattentive to those military expedients by which alone
(considering the enemy with whom they had to contend) the least shadow
of success could be acquired. In vigilance, activity, and prompt
decision, Cromwell was the very prototype of that man who has changed
the aspect of the present times. Various armies were collected with
almost magical celerity, and provided with every necessary for their own
comfort and the annoyance of the foe; and scarcely had the Loyalists in
the west, north, and east brought their raw recruits into the field,
before a well-appointed body of veterans was arrayed against them, ready
to cut off their resources, and give them battle. Cromwell himself took
the command of the northern division; and without delaying his grand
design, by stopping to subdue Pontefract Castle, as his more timid
counsellors advised, he marched immediately to attack the Scotch army,
though with inferior numbers, and put them to the rout, after having
first defeated their English allies. Both the generals were taken
prisoners. Sir Marmaduke afterwards escaped; but the Duke suffered on
the scaffold shortly after the Royal Martyr whom, with late repentance,
he vainly attempted to save.
The scene of this contest was so near Ribblesdale that the engagement
was plainly seen from the hills I have just spoken of, where Dr.
Beaumont and his family, with the fervent piety, though not with the
success of Moses, held up their hands in prayer to the God of battle.
The result disappointed their ardent hopes; and the more grateful duty
of thanksgiving was thus changed to humble resignation. The fugitive
Loyalists and their vindictive pursuers scoured along the valleys. The
present situation of the Beaumonts was highly unsafe; and they eagerly
hurried along to regain the melancholy shelter of their ruinous abode.
The shades of evening fell as they entered Waverly Park, agonized with
sorrow and commiseration of the calamities they had beheld. A squadron
of cavalry rode rapidly by them, which they guessed were part of the
King's northern horse, so celebrated in the early periods of the civil
war. Isabel's anxiety to see if they were closely pursued conquered her
female terrors. She ran from her friends and climbed a little eminence,
by which means she discovered a sight which roused the liveliest
feelings of compassion. She saw an officer falling from his horse, dead,
as she believed. Perceiving that he bled profusely, she called to her
uncle to go back with her and try if they could render him any
assistance. On such an occasion even Constance was courageous, and they
all hastened to the spot where he lay. Mrs. Mellicent remarked, that
though he had lost the distinguishing insignia, she feared, by his being
so well accoutered, he was a rebel. His helmet was fallen off, his
countenance entirely disfigured with blood, and the hand which grasped
his broad-sword seemed stiffened instead of being relaxed by death. "It
matters not what he is," replied Dr. Beaumont, "his present state
requires immediate assistance." Constantia seized one of his hands to
see if life still fluttered in the pulse, but dropped it in an agony,
exclaiming, "Merciful Heaven, it is Eustace! I know him by the ring he
always wore." Dr. Beaumont immediately recognized the well-known crest
of the Earls of Bellingham. "Dear unfortunate youth," said he; "yet, my
child, be comforted; he has died in a most righteous cause." By this
time Isabel, who had ran to fetch some water, returned, and began to
wash his face, and staunch the blood, while the distracted Constance
clung, screaming, to the bosom of her aunt, wildly lamenting the fate of
her beloved. With more self-command, but equal anxiety, Isabel removed
the clotted gore, and pulled the matted hair from off his brow. "These,"
said she, "are not my brother's features, but indeed I know them well.
Our noble protector, the good Barton's pupil--" She paused a moment, and
gasped for her own breath, while eagerly watching if he respired. A deep
sob gave indication of life. "He is alive," continued she, in a low
whisper, as if fearing to precipitate a spirit that was fluttering
between time and eternity; "let us gently raise, and try to restore
him."
There was not one of the party who did not anxiously join in expressing,
by their active services, the sense they entertained of former kindness.
Williams hastened to bring a wain and mattress; Mrs. Mellicent ran for
bandages and styptics; and the wounded gentleman was safely conveyed to
the house, still in a state of insensibility. Mrs. Mellicent's skill had
stopped the hemorrhage; and a more scientific surgeon, who was called
in, pronounced that, with proper care, his wounds would not prove
mortal. Isabel claimed the office of chief nurse; the patient's senses
gradually returned; and his eyes, when again capable of distinguishing
objects, recognized one which had long been impressed on his heart. He
rewarded her benevolent ministration with a grateful smile and feeble
pressure of her hand; and Isabel felt happier at that moment than she
had ever done since her dear mother was interred among Fourness Fells,
when, with a voice convulsed with grief, she joined in the requiem,
filled her coffin with funeral herbs, and scattered the emblems of
sorrow on her grave.
"You must not speak," said Isabel; "the Doctor has prescribed the utmost
quietness; you must only listen while I tell you, that for a thousand
worlds I would not have lost the pleasure of saving your life. Had I not
turned back you would have bled to death in a few minutes. Alas!"
continued she, recollecting herself, "the hope of your recovery
transports me too far. I forget that your exertions probably contributed
to make the battle of Preston end so fatally to our cause? Why are you
the enemy of my King and of my father?"
"I will never be the enemy of those you love," replied he, with a look
of languishing pain and grateful anxiety. Isabel burst into tears. "Say
that again," said she; "just those words and no more, lest your wounds
should bled afresh; and if you die--"
"Sweet Isabel, finish that sentence."
"I shall surely die of grief," said she, rushing out of the room to call
her aunt to take her office, ashamed that her joy at her patient's
recovery of his senses had overpowered her habitual self-command.
The news of Dr. Beaumont's having preserved the life of a wounded
officer, soon reached the ears of Morgan, who concluding it must be one
of his own party, imagined he should now have ample opportunity to wreak
his vengeance on a man whom he had marked for destruction, in revenge
for the insult he had received from Eustace, and the disappointment of
his hopes of obtaining Constantia. It was, however, necessary to
ascertain the fact of his harbouring a Royalist taken in arms, before he
proceeded to frame the information. Not satisfied with the Doctor's
solemn assurance that the person whose life he had preserved was in
reality a Parliamentary officer, he insisted on examining him himself;
and also that he might interrogate him without the intrusion of any
witness. The danger which the sufferer's health might undergo, was
beneath his notice; he entered the room with an air of domineering
cruelty, ready to pounce on a victim unable to escape; but, after a
short interview, he returned with the softened accents of obsequious
respect to the stranger, and affable condescension to the Beaumonts. He
desired that they would spare no trouble and expence in attending the
gentleman, and assured them they would be well rewarded for their pains.
He lamented that their poor abode did not afford suitable convenience,
and hinted that as soon as the stranger was able to be removed he would
have him conveyed to Saints' Rest, his own mansion. He then announced
that their guest was the Lord Sedley, only son of the Earl of
Bellingham, who at that time commanded the forces sent to subdue the
Welsh insurgents, and was himself a personal favourite of Cromwell, and
attached to his staff. "He gives," continued Morgan, "a very favourable
account of your principles and conduct, and I shall not fail to announce
your proper behaviour to their honours the Committee-men, and I hope
Government will be disposed to overlook your past offences. The Earl is
a staunch supporter of the good cause, and the young gentleman a youth
of very fair promise."
If Morgan expected his intelligence would be received with the transport
of minds subdued by adversity, and suddenly elated by a prospect of
better times, he mistook the characters of those he addressed. The
circumstance of Sedley wearing a seal-ring impressed with the crest of
Bellingham, had led Dr. Beaumont to suspect who he was; but since in his
former intercourse with the family he had studiously avoided all
discovery, the worthy Rector thought it would be indecorous to take any
advantage of his misfortunes, and therefore evaded the inquiries of
Constantia, how he came to wear the same crest as Eustace, by remarking
that many families adopted armorial bearings nearly similar. Totally
free from all the malignant passions, he felt no animosity to the son of
that traitor who had wrested a coronet and princely demesne from the
injured Neville, but rejoiced at the consideration that it had been in
his power to render the most important services gratuitously to one who
had so essentially assisted his family, and was beside the darling pupil
of his respected friend Barton. Mrs. Mellicent's feelings were of a more
vindictive cast, but her asperity had been so softened by the fine
person and pleasing manners of young Sedley, that she could not
determine on the expediency of immediately turning him out of doors, as
she possibly might have done had he been uncouth and vulgar; she even
kept her resolution till sight of his necessity and helplessness had
assisted her benevolence to vanquish the warmth of temper, and taught
her to respect the claims of a fellow creature in distress. Isabel had
by this time discovered the state of her own heart; and the superior
rank of the object of her affections was not the only reason for
changing love into despair. Her dear father had often in his former
ravings mentioned Lord Bellingham as the ally of Lucifer, and likely to
succeed him on the infernal throne. At those times it must indeed be
remembered, that he mistook his own children for dancing fiends, but his
aversion to Bellingham was rooted, and at every eclipse of reason he
renewed his execrations on a person, whose name, in his tranquil
moments, never passed his lips. She loved the son of this man; this
villain; for so she must think him, as her father, even in his most
eccentric moments, never so confounded the distinctions of honour and
guilt as to misrepresent characters. Nor could his rooted aversion
proceed from the difference in their political principles, for it was in
her early years, before the troubles commenced, that he mentioned
Bellingham as the infernal spirit who had driven him to the mountains;
and in every allusion he confirmed the idea of a private rather than a
public quarrel. Time and absence had increased rather than weakened the
affection and reverence which Isabel bore to her father. His eminent
services to the King, his bravery and activity, unimpaired by wounds,
imprisonment, or declining years, made her prouder of such a parent than
she would have been of one seated on the right hand of power. And had
she cherished and avowed an affection for the son of a cruel enemy to
her honoured father!--What a want of filial piety, what a shameful
inattention to his wrongs would it be, knowingly to confirm such an
unnatural inclination! Whatever pain it cost her, she determined to
release her heart from the fetters which gratitude and pity had combined
to form.
The resolution was extremely noble, but to execute it was superlatively
difficult. Lord Sedley was daily before her eyes in the interesting
characters of suffering magnanimity or ardent attachment. When his
unclosed wounds throbbed with extreme anguish, could she refuse to
minister to his relief? When returning ease allowed him to direct the
grateful acknowledgments of a devoted heart, to the protecting angel who
had rescued him from death, could she deny the confessed affection
surprise had drawn from her, and resolve to hate or even forget him on
account of a supposed hereditary feud? The struggle of her soul was
apparent to Sedley, who, ignorant of his father's crimes, attributed her
affected reserve to the alarm she felt lest the claims of his exalted
station should prove incompatible with love. To alleviate this fear he
was more explicit in his declarations, and energetic in his vows of
devoting to her the life she had preserved. She attempted to look cold
and determined, while she answered that she feared insuperable
objections would prevent their union. In the weak state to which Lord
Sedley was reduced, the least agitation of mind was dangerous; after one
of these conversations he fainted, and was thought expiring, but the
first object he saw on his recovery was Isabel, in such an agony of
grief as convinced him that indifference had no share in the alteration
of her behaviour.
The first opportunity which she again afforded him of speaking to her,
he resolved to use to bring on a complete eclaircissement, and as he
should require perfect frankness, he resolved to set her a similar
example. But to execute his design was now very difficult; for Isabel,
with virgin modesty, blended with the restrictions imposed by filial
duty, now avoided being alone with the object of her tenderest regard.
Her uncle had deemed it right to inform her, that it was a lively sense
of irreparable injuries, which pointed her father's incoherent ravings
at Lord Bellingham. His wrongs, the Doctor observed, were of a nature
which only Christian charity could forgive, or Christian fortitude
endure; and he warned her against cherishing any sentiment more ardent
than pity for Sedley's sufferings, and gratitude for his former
services. She promised to endeavour to comply, in a manner which evinced
that this advice came too late. She tried to recollect the pains he had
formerly taken to avoid her, and the marked precaution of Barton in
concealing his name. She wished to think him a scion of a cankered tree,
which would transfuse infection wherever it was engrafted. The surgeon
had just pronounced him at liberty to remove, and Isabel endeavoured to
hope he would avail himself of that permission. "His declarations of
love and gratitude may," thought she, "be bribes to induce us to be more
careful of his preservation, or he may think himself bound in honour to
offer me a partnership in his fortunes, as the preserver of his life. I
will owe nothing to his pity or his gratitude. I will recollect, that I
am the daughter of a noble Loyalist, irreparably injured by his rebel
father, restrain the ebullitions of youthful sensibility and unweighed
preference, and if he leaves us, part without a tear."
Nothing could be more foreign to the purposes of Lord Sedley than to
quit his adored preserver. He made no use of his release from restraint,
but to follow Isabel in her domestic occupations, nor of his returning
strength, but to try to lighten her labours. "Am I troublesome to you,"
he would say, "that you look on me less kindly; if so, I shall regret
the restoration of health and ease, and the power of again enjoying the
refreshing air and blessed light of heaven. The tenderness which made
the chamber of infirmity paradise, is withheld from me, now I have a
prospect of living to reward it."
Isabel attempted to reply, but only stammered out, "Lord Sedley!"--"I
will be known to you," said he, "by no other name than that by which I
will plight my troth, Arthur de Vallance.--What has my Isabel to say to
me in that character? I will not allow her to retract the sweet
encouragement she gave me when I was the helpless object of her tender
care. Her compassion and assiduity looked so much like love, as to cheat
me into a belief, that she who said she would die with me would consent
to make the life she preserved a blessing."
Surely, thought Isabel, this is not the language of hereditary baseness.
She cast a look on her lover which confirmed that opinion. Yet, how
could she tell him that his father's crimes formed an insuperable
barrier to their union. After much hesitation, she resolved to be as
explicit as her own respect for the feelings of filial piety would
permit. "I will own," said she, "that what fell from me in a transport
of joyful surprise, was not an unmeaning exclamation, but the confession
of a strong preference. But now that I have had time for reflection, I
must remember that you long struggled against your partiality for me,
and even now you seem rather vanquished by a combination of
circumstances and a sense of obligation, than led to make me your free
unquestioned choice. This indicates that you know of some secret reason,
some family animosity, perhaps, which ought to prevent my ever being
your wife. I am the daughter of a Loyalist, unfortunate indeed, but
brave and noble; I will not reproach you with your father's faults. His
prosperity, the trust he exercises under the Usurper, are in my eyes
reasons, if not of hating you, at least of resolving not to unite myself
to principles so opposite to those I have ever cherished."
Sedley thanked her for allowing him an opportunity of explaining the
past. It was most true, that at their first interview he felt the power
of her fortitude and generous regard to others, nor did he overlook the
complacency with which she received his services. Though at that time
hearty in the Parliamentary cause, it was owing to the advice (or he
should rather say, the commands) of Barton, under whose guidance he was
placed by his father, that he deputed him to execute the plan he had
formed for the safe conduct of the Beaumonts through the seat of war,
instead of being himself their escort, as he at first intended. The same
interference had again prevented him from renewing an acquaintance with
them, on the rescue of Constantia. The principles he had imbibed from
Barton forbade every deviation from the path of honour; and an alliance
with a conspicuous royalist, would either have estranged him from his
family or exposed them to ruin. Isabel inquired if the same impediments
did not still exist. "A great change has taken place," replied Lord
Sedley; "I am now like you, a child of misfortune; but were it not so,
'Love is become the lord of all,' and when he reigns, he reigns
unrivalled."
He proceeded to inform her, that the violent feuds of the predominant
factions had infected the privacies of domestic life. His mother was
warmly attached to Cromwell's party, while his father adhered to that of
the Presbyterian republicans; the differences between whom were now
grown irreconcileable. He knew that the command intrusted to Lord
Bellingham was given him as a snare, and that he was so surrounded by
spies, as to be virtually in the power of any common serjeant, who, in
the two-fold capacity of Agitator and Preacher, could denounce his
general at the drum-head, and under the pretence of his having
sacrificed the Lord's cause, and the rights of the army, to an ungodly
Parliament, could send him prisoner to London. Lord Sedley confessed,
with shame, that his mother, by giving information that his father was
in secret not well disposed to Cromwell, had caused him to be placed in
a situation where the greatest circumspection could not ensure his
safety. The sentiments he had imbibed from Barton led him to prefer the
more moderate counsels, and in the conduct of the contending factions he
had seen so much to condemn, that he wished to abstain from all
interference in public affairs. But his mother misinterpreting his
seclusion into a preference of his father's party, invited Cromwell to
Castle Bellingham, on his march against the Duke of Hamilton, and
requested that he would take her son with him as one of his suite. More
like a captive than a volunteer, Lord Sedley was compelled to acquiesce
in her proposal; but the intimate view which his situation gave him of
Cromwell's character, inspired him with the most revolting disgust. The
domestic situation of his parents dispirited him on the one side, while
something more than indifference to the cause for which he fought
operated on the other, till, hopeless of better times, careless of
safety, and desirous rather of losing life than of gaining glory, he
rushed into the battle; yet, when the conflict began, he felt roused by
a mechanical impulse, and, engaging in a hot pursuit of some of the
northern horse, he received those wounds from one of the troopers, which
nearly terminated his existence.
"Such, Isabel," continued he, "is the present condition of him, who must
again owe his life to your pity. I have no home, but one occupied by a
mother, engaged in plots for the destruction of her husband, and
determined to render her son the creature of an ambitious hypocrite,
rather than serve whom, he would die. I cannot join my father, for that
would be to add a second victim to the one, whom Cromwell has resolved
to expose to the sharpest ordeal. My hereditary claim to rank and title
is now merely the vision of a shadow, for I know it is the secret
intention of the fanatics to abolish the Peers as a political body, and
estates are now held by permission rather than right, nor are the
possessors secure of their inheritance for a single day. Greatness is
thus reduced to the bare simplicity of individual desert. In you,
Isabel, I see the genuine loveliness of unsophisticated virtue, the
qualities of fortitude, discretion, and sincerity, which these arduous
times peculiarly require. At present I have had little opportunity to
shew you my character, but let me intreat permission to be sheltered
under your uncle's roof, till I can arrange some plan for my future
conduct, and shew you more of the heart which is irrevocably yours."
The plea of anxious distress revived all the tenderness of Isabel; and
he whom, she believed, she could reject as the heir of a coronet, and
the favourite of an Usurper, became the object of inviolable attachment
when viewed as an outcast, seeking an asylum from the misfortunes
brought on him by the crimes of his parents. Considering it to be her
duty, she explained his situation to her uncle and aunt, and they agreed
that it would be inhuman to deny him the refuge he craved. But still, as
he was at present rather a probationary than an assured penitent, and in
some points of view an object of suspicion, Dr. Beaumont felt it would
be endangering his own security to converse with him freely on political
topics. Still more hazardous would it be to admit him to a participation
of their family-secrets, and at this time there was one which engrossed
their minds, and threw an unusual air of mystery and anxious solicitude
into Isabel's behaviour.
[1] Especially Bishop Sanderson.