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2] London: CHATTO & WIJSDUS, Piccadilly, W.

THE

Chaplain of the Fleet

BY
WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE

AUTHORS OF 'READY-MONEY MORTIBOV,' THE GOLDEN feUTTEKfr'LYi.'
'THE TEN Vt.lkj' VENANl',' ETC

A NEW EDITION

SLonlfon
CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1887

[All Rights Reserved\

CONTENTS.

PAET I.

WITHIN THE RULES.

CHAPTER PAGE

I. HOW KITTY LOST HER FATHEE AND HER FRIENDS . .1

II. HOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS - - - - =8

III. HOW WE CAME TO LONDON ON THE COACH - - - 12

IV. HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR - • . -24

V. HOW KITTY WITNESSED A FLEET WEDDING - - - 37

VI. HOW KITTY BEGAN TO ENJOY THE LIBERTIES OP THE FLEET - 49

VII. HOW KITTY LEARNED TO KNOW THE DOCTOR - - - 58

VI!I. HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME - - - - - 61

IX. HOW THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE MADE TWO WOMEN PRISONERS - 70

X. HOW THE DOCTOR WAS AT HOME TO HIS FRIENDS - - 73

XI. HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FRIENDS - - - 85

XII. HOW KITTY EXECUTED THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE - - - 89

XIII. HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE OUT OF SLEEP - - - 99

XIV. HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED - - - - 104
XV. HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED .... 108

PART II.
THE QUEEN OF THE WELLS.

I. HOW WE RETURNED TO THE POLITE WORLD

II. HOW WE WENT TO THE WELLS

III. HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY

IV. HOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALL - -
V. HOW KITTY WORE HER CROWN

VI. HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY
VII. HOW KITTY BROKE HER PROMISE

120
127
133
144
155
164
1C8

VI

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

VIII. HOW KITTY HAD LETTERS AND VERSES -

IX. HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WENT TO LONDON

X. HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM

XI. HOW SIR MILES RENEWED HIS OFFER -

XII. HOW HARRY TEMPLE PROVED HIS VALOUR

XIII. HOW DURDANS WAS ILLUMINATED

XIV. HOW MY LORD MADE HIS CONFESSION
XV. HOW NANCY HAD A QUICK TONGUE

XVI. HOW SPED T.HE MASQUERADE
XVII. HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL
XVIII. HOW HARRY GOT RELEASED
XIX. HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED

XX. HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED
XXI. HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON -
XXII. HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVED HIS FREEDOM

*AOE

- 174

- 180

- 185

- 193

- 198

- 201

- 211

- 216

- 219

- 229

- 242

- 253

- 2G7

- 293

- 3Q6

THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

PART I.

WITHIN THE RULES.
CHAPTER I.

HOW KITTY LOST HER FATHER AND HER FRIENDS.

My life has been (above any merits of my own) so blessed by
Providence, that methinks its history should be begun with the
ringing of bells, the singing of psalms, the sound of cornet, flute,
harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of music. Por surely the
contemplation of a happy course should, even towards its close, be
accompanied by a heart full of cheerful piety and gratitude. And
though, as often happens to us in the Lord's wisdom, ill fortune,
disappointment, troubles of the flesh, and pain of disease may
perhaps afflict me in these latter years of fleeting life, they ought
not to lessen the glad song of praise for blessings formerly vouchsafed
(and still dwelling in my memory) of love, of joy, and of happiness.
Truly, the earth is a delightful place ; a fair garden, which yields
pleasant fruit ; and, if it may be so said with becoming reverence,
there are yet, outside the gates of Eden, places here and there which
for beauty and delight, to those who thither win their way, are
comparable with Paradise itself. In such a place it has been my
happy lot to dwell.

Yet, just as the newborn babe begins his earthly course, with a
wail— ah, joyful cry for ear of mother ! — so must this book begin
with tears and weeping.

The weeping is that of an orphan over her dead father ; the tears
are those which fall upon a coffin beside an open grave : they are
the tears of men and women come to pay this reverence at the burial
of a man who was their best friend and their most faithful servant.

All the morniDg the funeral knell has been tolling ; the people

1

2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

listen, now, to the solemn words of a service which seems spoken
by the dead man himself to those who mourn. They admonish and
warn, but they bid them be of good cheer, lift up hearts, and trust in
the Lord.

When we are in great grief and sorrow, outward things seem to
affect us more than in ordinary times, when the heart is in repose
and the mind, perhaps, slower of apprehension. The day, for in-
stance, was late in May ; the blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch were
singing in the wood beside the church ; a lark was carolling in the
sky ; a cuckoo was calling from the coppice ; the hedges were green,
and the trees were bright with their first fresh foliage ; the white
may-blossom, the yellow laburnum, and the laylock were at their
best, and the wild roses were just beginning.

To the country girl who had never yet left her native village, this
joy of the spring was so natural that it did not jar upon the grief of
her soul. When the funeral was over, and the grave filled in and
the people all dispersed, she stood for a few moments alone, and
then walked away across the long grass of the churchyard, stepping
lightly over the graves of the villagers, opened the little wicket-
gate which led to the vicarage garden, passed in, and sought a
sheltered place where, beneath the shade of bushes, she sat upon a
bench and folded her hands, looked before her, and fell a-thinking.

She was between sixteen and seventeen, but tall of her age, and
looked older ; she wore a new black frock ; she had thrown her
straw hat with black ribbons upon the bench beside her. As for her
face, I suppose it was pretty. Alas ! I am a hypocrite, because I
know that it was pretty. As yet, she did not know it, and had never
thought about her face. Her eyes were brown (she has ever been
thankful to have had brown eyes) ; her features were regular, and
her face rather long ; her hair was abundant and soft : it was like
the hair of most English maidens, of a dark brown, or chestnut (it is
now white) ; her arms were shapely, and her lingers thin and delicate
(they were the fingers of a Pleydell) ; as for her complexion, it was
as good as can be expected in a girl whose blood is pure, who has,
as yet, known no late hours, who has been taught to use plenty of
cold water and no washes or messes, who has run about without
thinking of freckles, and has lived in the open air on homely food.
In other words, as fine a show of red and white was in the cheeks of
that child as ever Sir Joshua Reynolds tried to copy upon canvas.

She was thinking many things. First, of her father and his
death ; of the funeral, and the grief shown by people whom she had
thought to be hard of heart, insensible to his admonitions, and un-
touched by his prayers. Yet they stood about the grave and wept,
rude women and rough men. Would they ever again find a minister
so benevolent, so pious, and so active in all good work ? She thought
of the house, and how dark and lonely it was, deserted by its former
owner. She thought of what she should do, in the time before her
and how she would be received in her new home. One tiling com'

KITTY LOSES HER FATHER. 3

forted her : she looked older than she was, and was tall and strong
She could be helpful.

Then she drew out of her pocket a letter written for her only three
days before her father died. She knew it quite by heart, but yet
she read it again slowly, aa if there might still be something in it
which had escaped her.

'Mr beloved Daughter' (thus it ran),

' Knowing that I am about to die and to appear before my
Father and merciful Judge, it is right that I should bestir myself to
make thee comprehend the situation in which thou wilt be placed.
Of worldly wealth I have, indeed, but little to give thee. Face thy
lot with hope, resignation, and a cheerful heart. The righteous
man, said one who knew, hath never been found to beg his bread.
Indeed, the whole course of this world is so ordered (by Divine
wisdom), that he who chooseth the narrow path, chooseth also the
safest. Therefore, be of good cheer.

' Imprimis. When I am buried, search the bedstead, and, in the
head thereof, will be found a bag containing the sum of one hundred
guineas in gold pieces. I have saved this money during my twenty
years of incumbency. I trust that it will not be laid to my charge
that I did not give this also to the poor ; but I thought of my
daughter first. Secondly, Farmer Goodpenny is indebted to me in
the sum of twenty-two pounds, four shillings, and eightpence, for
which I have his note. I charge thee that he be not asked to pay
interest, and since it may be that he hath not the money, let it wait
his good time. He is an honest man, who fears God. Thirdly, there
is money, some twelve pounds or more, lying in my desk for present
use. Fourthly, there are several small sums due to me, money put
out and lent (but not at usury), such as five shillings from the
widow Coxon, and other amounts the which I will have thee forgive
and remit entirely ; for these my debtors are poor people. The
horse is old, but he will fetch five pounds, and the cow will sell for
two. As for the books, they may be sent to Maidstone, where they
may be sold. But I doubt they will not bring more than ten
guineas, or thereabouts, seeing that the call for works of divinity is
small, even among my brethren of the cloth. And when you go to
London, forget not to ask of Mr. Longman, publisher, of St. Paul's
Churchyard, an account of my " Sermons," published by him last
year ; my essay on " Philo- Judseus," issued four years ago ; and my
"Reflections on the Christian State," which he hath by him in
manuscript. He will perhaps be able to return a larger sum of
money than I was led by him at first to expect.

' My will and plain injunctions are as follows :

' When everything has been paid that is owing, and there are
none who can hereafter say that he had a claim upon me which was
unsatisfied, get together thy wearing apparel and effects, and under
some proper protection, as soon as such can be found, go to London ?

1 — M

4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET,

and there seek out thy uucle and mother's brother, the Reverend
Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity, of whom I have spoken to thee
of old. I take shame to myself that I have not sent him, for many
years, letters of brotherly friendship. Nor do I rightly remember
where he is to be found. But I know that he lives, because once a
year there comes to me a keg or anker of rum, which I know must
be from him, and which I have drunk with my parishioners in a
spirit of gratitude. Perhaps it would have been more consistent in
a brother clergyman to have sent one of the latest books of our
scholars. But he means well, and the rum is, I confess, of the best,
and a generous drink, in moderation. He was once Curate and
Lecturer of St. Martin's-in-the- Fields ; but I would have thee go
first to the Coffee House in St. Paul's Churchyard, where they know
all the London clergy, and ask for his present lodging. This found,
go to him, tell him that I am dead, give him thy money, entrust
thyself to him, and be guided by him as thou hast been by me.

' And now, my daughter, if a father's prayers avail thee, be assured
that I die like Jacob the patriarch, blessing thee and commanding
thee. For my blessing, I pray that the Lord may have thee in His
keeping, and give thee what is good for the eternal life. For my
commandment — Be good : for herein is summed up the whole of
the Commandments.

' And remember, my child, the Christian who lives in fear of death
is foolish : even as he is foolish who will not lay hold of the promise,
and so lives in terror of the Judgment. For now I know — yea, I
know — that the Lord loveth best that man who all the days of his
life walks in faith and dies in hope.

' Your loving father,

' Lawkence Pleydell.'

Had ever a girl so sweet a message from the dead, to keep and
ponder over, to comfort and console her 1 She knew every word of
it already, but the tears came afresh to her eyes in thinking of the
dear hand which wrote those words— quiet now, its labours done,
in the cold grave. Her father's last Will and Testament gave her
more than riches— it gave her strength and consolation. The example
of his life, which was so Christian and so good, might be forgotten,
because the girl was too young to understand it, and too ignorant to
compare ; but this letter of true faith and religion would never be
forgotten.

The Reverend Lawrence Pleydell, Master of Arts and sometime
Fellow of the ancient and learned College or House of Christ, Cam-
bridge, was (which is a thing too rare in these days) a country clergy-
man who was also a scholar, a divine, a man of pious thought, and
a gentleman by descent, though only of a younger branch. It is too
often found that if a country clergyman be a gentleman, he continues
the habits of his class, such as fox-hunting, card-playing, and wine-
drinking, concerning which, although the Bishops see«n not yet of

KITTY LOSES HER FATHER.

5

one mind upon the matter, I, for my humble part, remembering what
kind of man was my good father, venture to think are pursuits un-
worthy of one who holds a cure of souls. And when a clergyman \%
a scholar, he is too often devoted entirely to the consideration of his
Greek and Latin authors, whereby his power over the hearts of the
people is in a measure lost. Or, if he is a divine, he is too often (out
of the fulness of his mind) constrained to preach the subtleties and
hidden things of theology, which cannot be understood of the common
people, so that it is as if he were speaking in an unknown tongue.
And sometimes the parson of the parish is but a rude and coarse
person, of vulgar birth, who will smoke tobacco with the farmers —
yea, even with the labourers — drink with them, and not be ashamed
to be seen in beer-houses, tap-rooms, or even at such unseemly diver-
sions as bull-baiting, badger-drawing, and cock-fighting. It were to
be wished that the Church were purged of all such.

The parish contained, besides farmers, but one family of gentlefolk,
that of Sir Eobert Levett, Knight, who with his wife and two chil-
dren lived at the Hall, and had an estate worth two thousand a year
at least. When the vicar's wife died (she was somewhat his inferior
in point of family, but had a brother in the Church), and his child
was left without a mother, nothing would do for Lady Levett than
that the little maid should be taken into the Hall and brought up,
having governesses and teaching, with her own daughter, Nancy,
who was of about the same age, but a little younger. So the two
girls were playfellows and scholars together, being taught those things
which it befits a lady to learn, although one of them would be a poor
lady indeed. There was one son, Will, who was at first at Eton with
his cousin (and Sir Robert's ward), Harry Temple, the young Squire
of Wootton Hampstead. It was a fearful joy when, they came home
for the holidays. For, although they kept the house in activity and
bustle, making disorder and noise where there was generally quiet
and order, yet after the manner of boys, who rejoice to show and
feel their strength, they would play rough tricks upon the two girls,
upset and destroy their little sports, and make them understand
what feeble things are young maidens compared with boys.

Now just as the two girls were different — for one grew up tall and
disposed to be serious, which was Kitty Pleydell, and the other was
small and saucy, always with a laugh and a kiss, which was Nancy
Levett — so the boys became different : for one, which was Will
Levett, a rosy-cheeked lad, with a low forehead and a square chin,
grew to dislike learning of all kinds, and was never happy except
when he was in the stables with the horses, or training the dogs, or
fox-hunting, or shooting, or fishing, or in some way compassing the
death of wild creatures, sports to which his father was only mode-
rately addicted ; but the other, Harry Temple, was 1 more studiously
disposed, always came home with some fresh mark of his master's
approbation, and read every book he could find.

There tame a change in their behaviour to the girls as they grew

6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

older. "Will ceased to set a dog to bark at them, and to crack a
whip to frighten them, or ride unbroken colts in order to make them
cry out for fear ; and Harry ceased to tease and torment them with
little tricks and devices of mischief at which they were half pleased
and half humiliated.

When the boys left school they were sent to Pembroke College,
Cambridge, a college in which many generations of Levetts had been
educated. After two terms, Will came home, looking cheerful though
somewhat abashed. He had been rusticated sine die, as the phrase
runs : which means that he was not to go back again until he had
made such ample submission and apology, with promises of future
amendment, as would satisfy the authorities as to the safety of allow-
ing him back.

It was not known rightly what he had done : there was a story
in which a retriever, a horse, a punch-bowl, a badger, a bargee, a
pump, and a water-trough were curiously mixed up, and his rusti-
cation had somehow to do with the introduction of a proctor (whom
one understands to be a learned and reverend magistrate) and a
bull-dog, into this inconsistent and discordant company.

Sir Robert looked grave when he received his son, my lady wept,
and the girls were ashamed ; but all speedily recovered their good
spirits, and the whole stable rejoiced exceedingly to see Will back
among them. Even the foxes and their cubs, Sir Robert said, which
had of late waxed fat and lazy, manifested a lively pleasure, and
hastened to get thin so as to afford the greatest sport possible ; the
trout practised all their tricks in readiness for one who respected a
fish of subtlety ; the pheasants and young partridges made haste to
grow strong on the wing : the snipe and small birds remembered
why Nature had taught them to use a devious and uncertain flight :
the rabbits left off running straight ; the otters remembered the
uncertainty of life and the glory of a gallant fight : the ferrets laughed,
thinking of the merry days they were going to have ; the hares, who
never take any solid interest in being hunted, ran away to the neigh-
bouring estates ; and the badgers, who were going to be drawn in
their holes, turned sulky.

This was what Sir Robert told the girls, who laughed, but believed
that it was all true. As for Cambridge, there was no more thought
of that. Will had had enough of lectures, chapels, and dons ; hence-
forth, he said, he should please himself.

' Man,' said Sir Robert, ' who is ever disappointed, must continu-
ally be resigned. What if Will hath refused to get learning ? He
will not, therefore, gamble away the estate, nor disgrace the name
of Levett. Holdfast is a good dog. It is the fortune of this house
that if, once in a while, its head prove a fool as regards books, he
still sticks to his own.'

Will promised to stick fast to his own, and though he gave him-
self up henceforth altogether to those pursuits which make a man
coarse and deaden his sensibility (whereby he loses the best part of

Rl TT V LOSES HER FA THER. ?

his life), he promised, in his father's opinion, to prove a capable
manager and just landlord, jealous of his own rights, and careful
of those of others.

Will thus remaining at home, the girls saw him every day, anr
though they had little talk with him, because it could not be ex-
pected that they should care to hear how the dogs behaved, and
how many rats had been killed that morning, yet he was, in his
rough way, thoughtful of them, and would bring them such trifles
as pretty eggs, stuffed kingfishers, dressed moleskins, and so forth,
which he got in his walks abroad. In the evening he would make
his artificial flies, twist his lines, mend his landing-nets, polish his
guns ; being always full of business, and kindly taking no notice
while Nancy or Kitty read aloud, nor seeming to care what they
read, whether it was the poetry of Pope, or some dear delightful
romance ; or the ' Spectator/ or the plays of Shakespeare. All was
one to him.

He seemed in those days a good-natured young man who went
his own way and troubled himself not one whit about other people.
Women were inferior creatures, of course : they could not shoot,
hunt, fish, ride to hounds ; they had no strength ; they did not like
to see things killed ; they did not love sport ; they did not drink
wine ; they did not take beer for breakfast ; they did not smoke
tobacco ; they loved tea, chocolate, coffee, and such vanities ; they
loved to dress fine and stand up making bows to men, which they
called dancing ; they loved to read a lot of nonsense in rhymes, or
to cry over the sorrows of people who never lived. Women, how-
ever, had their uses : they kept things in order, looked after the
dinner, and took care of the babies.

Will did not say all these things at once ; but they were collected
together and written down by the girls, who kept a book between
them, where they entered all the things they heard which struck
their fancy. Nancy even went so far as to try to make up a story
about the proctor and the pump, but never dared show it, except to
her father, who pinched her ear and laughed . They called the page
about the ways of women ' Will's Wisdom,' and continually added
to it without his knowledge ; because Will, like all men who love
the sports of the field and not the wisdom of the ] >i inted page, be-
came quickly angry if he were laughed at. The giris always
pictured Esau, for instance, as a grave man, with a square chin,
who talked a good deal about his own hunting, took no interest in
the occupations of the women, and could never see a joke.

Two years or so after Will's rustication, Harry came of age and
left Cambridge without taking a degree. There were bonfires, and
oxen roasted whole, and barrels of beer upon the green when he
took possession of his own estate and went to live in his own house,
which was three miles and a half from the Hall.

He came from Cambridge having no small reputation for learn-
ing and wit, being apt at the making of verses in English. Latin,

8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

and Italian. He was, moreover, skilled in mathematical science,
and especially in astronomy ; he had read history, and understood
the course of politics. I think that from the beginning he aspired
to be considered one of those who by birth and attainments are
looked upon as the leaders of the world ; he would be a scholar as
well as a gentleman ; he would be a poet, perhaps to be ranked
with Pope or Dryden ; he would be a man of fashion ; and he
would sit in ladies salons, while other men sat over bottles of port,
and talked gallantry. As for his appearance, he was tall and slight
in figure ; his face was long and rather thin ; his eyes were grave ;
his manner was reserved ; to the girls he was always courteous, ask-
ing their opinion, setting them right when they were wrong, lending
them books, and directing them what to read. To Kitty he was a
man to be respected, but never, she may truly say, did she allow
her thoughts to dwell on the possibility of love : perhaps because
love is between opposites, so that the grave may love the gay ; per-
haps because she knew very early that Lady Levett earnestly
desired one thing— that Harry might fall in love with Nancy ; and
perhaps because to Nancy herself, little, merry Nancy, whose heart
was full of sunshine as her eyes were full of sunlight, and her lips
never moved but to say and sing something saucy, or to laugh and
smile— to Nancy, I say, this man was an Apollo, and she wondered
that all women, not to speak of men (whose stupidity in the matter
*f reverence for each other is well known) did not fall down before
him and do him open worship.

A few months after Harry Temple came of age, the vicar was
taken ill with a putrid fever, caught while administering the last
jrites of the Church to a dying woman, and was carried off in a
fortnight. This disaster not only robbed poor Kitty of the best of
fathers, but also of the kindest patron and the most loving friend ;
for it took her away from the Hall, and drove her out, as will be
presently seen, to meet dangers as she had never imagined among
a people whose wickedness after many years, and even to this day,
makes her wonder at the longsuffering of the Lord.

CHAPTER II.

HOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS.

The day after the funeral, Sir Eobert Levett himself walked to the
Vicarage in the afternoon, and found the girl still in the garden, on
her favourite seat. As soon as she looked into his kind face 'she
burst into fresh tears.

* Cry on, pretty,' he said, sitting beside her, and with a tear in
his own eye. ' Cry on ; to cry is natural. Thou hast lost the best

HOW KITTY MADE ENGAGEMENTS. 9

and most Christian father that ever girl had ; therefore cry on till
thou art tired. Let the tears fall. Don't mind me. Out handker-
chief. So good a scholar shall we never see again. Cry on, if thou
hast only just begun, should it bring thee comfort. Nor ever shall
we hear so good a preacher. When thou hast finished let me have
my say. But do not hurry.'

Even at the very saddest, when tears flow as unceasingly as the
fountains in the Land of Canaan, the sight of an elderly gentleman
sitting on a bench beneath a mulberry-tree, his hat beside him, his
wig in his hands for coolness, his stick between his legs, and his
face composed to a decent position, waiting till one had finished,
would be enough to make any girl stop crying. Kitty felt im-
mediately inclined to laugh ; dried her eyes, restrained her sobs,
and pulled out her father's will, which she gave to Sir Eobert to
read.

He read it through twice, slowly, and then he hummed and
coughed before he spoke :

' A good man, Kitty child. See that thou forget not his admoni-
tions. I would he were here still to admonish us all. Sinners that
we were, to heed his voice no better. And now he is gone — he is
gone. Yet he was a younger man than I, by ten years and more,
and I remain.' Here he put on his wig, and rose. ' As for this
money, child, let us lose no time in making that safe, lest some thief
should rob thee of it. A hundred guineas ! And twenty more
with Farmer Goodpenny ! And this money waiting at the pub-
lisher's !* Verily thou art an heiress, indeed !'

In the bedroom, at the head of the great bed, they found beneath
the mattress a long narrow box secretly let into the panel close to
the great cross-beam. I say secretly, but it was a secret known to
all the world. Carpenters always made those secret hiding-places
in beds, so that had there been a robber in the house he would have
begun by searching in that place. Sir Eobert knew where to find
the spring, and quickly opened the box.

Within it lay two canvas bags, tied up. Could bags so little hold
so great a sum ? Sir Eobert tossed them into his pockets as care-
lessly as if they were bags of cherries.

' Now, little maid,' said he, sitting on the bed, ' that money is
safe ; and be sure that I shall call on Farmer Goodpenny to-morrow.
Let me know what is to be done about thy father's wish that thou
Bhouldst go to London V

' It is his injunction, sir/ said Kitty, gravely. ' I must obey his
will.'

'Yet thy father, child, did not know London. And to send a
young girl like thyself, with a bag of guineas about thy neck, to ask

* When, some months later, Kitty went to the publisher, that gentleman
informed her that there was no money to receive, because he had been a
loser by the publication of the books.

io THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

in a, coffee-house for the address of a clergyman is, methinks, a wild,
goose sort of business. As for Dr. Shovel, I have heard the name

— to be sure, it cannot be the same man ' he stopped, as if he

■would not tell me what it was he had heard.
' It is my father's command,' she repeated.

' Unless nothing better should be found. Now, London is a
dangerous place, full of pitfalls and traps, especially for the young
and innocent. "We are loth to lose thee, Kitty ; we are afraid to let
thee go. Nothing will do for Lady Levett but that thou remain
with us and Nancy.'

This was a generous offer, indeed. Kitty's eyes filled with tears
again, and while she stood trying to find words of gratitude, and to
decline the offer so as not to appear churlish, madam herself came
running up the stairs, in her garden-hat and plain pinner, and fell
to kissing and crying over the girl.

Then she had to be told of the will and last commands.
' To be sure,' she said, ' thy father's commands must be respected
and obeyed. Yet I know not whether it would not be well to dis-
obey them. Kitty, my dear, stay with us and be my daughter, all
the same as Nancy. I do not ask thee to enter my service, or to
receive wages, or to do work for me any other than a daughter may.'
Kitty shook her head again. She was truly grateful ; there was
no one so kind as her ladyship ; but she must go to London as her
father bade her.

' Why,' cried Sir Bobert, ' the child is right. Let her go. But if
she is unhappy with her friends, or if she is in any trouble, let her
know where to look for help.'

' There may be cousins,' said madam, ' who will find thee too
pretty for their own faces, and would keep thee at home with the
towels and dusters and napkins. I would not have our Kitty a
Cinderella — though house-service is no disgrace to a gentlewoman.
Or there may be manners and customs of the house that a young
girl should disapprove. Or there may be harsh looks instead of
kind words. If that is the case, Kitty, come back to us, who love
thee well, and will receive thee with kisses and joy.'

Then they left her in the empty house, alone with Deborah, the
house servant.

She was looking over her father's books, and taking out one or
two which she thought she might keep in memory of him (as if any-
thing were needed) when she heard steps, and Deborah's voice in-
viting some one to enter.

It was Harry Temple : he stood in the doorway, his hat in his
hand, and under his arm a book.

' I was meditating in the fields,' he said, ' what I should say to
Kitty Pleydell, in consolation for her affliction. The learned Boe-

thius '

• Oh, Harry !' she cried, ' do not talk to me of books. What caD
they say to comfort anyone V

HO W KITTY MA DE ENGA GEMENTS. s i

He smiled. Harry's smile showed how much he pitied people not
bo learned as himself.

'The greatest men,' he said, 'have been comforted by books.
Cicero, for instance Nay, Kitty, I will not quote Cicero. I came
to say that I am sorry indeed to learn that we shall lose thee for a
time.'

' Alas !' she said, ' I must go. It is my father's order.'

' I am sure,' he replied, ' that you would not leave us for a lighter
reason. You know our hearts, Kitty, and how we all love .you/

' I know ' Kitty began to cry again. Everybody was so full

of love and pity. ' I know, Harry. And perhaps I shall never
n — n— never see you again.'

' And does that make this parting harder V He turned very red,
and laid his precious book of consolation on the table.

' Why, of course it does,' she replied, wiping her eyes.

'You shall see us again,' he went on earnestly. 'You shall come
back with me. Kitty, I will give you one twelvemonth of absence.
You know I love you tenderly. But your father's commands must
be obeyed. Therefore for a whole year I shall not seek you out.
Then, when I come for you, will you return with me, never to go
away again V

' Oh !' she cried, clasping her hands, ' how joyfully will I return !'

The young man took her hand and raised it to his lips.

' Divine maid !' he cried. ' Fit to grace a coronet, or to make the
home of a simple gentleman an Arcadia of pastoral pleasure !'

' Do not mock me, Harry,' she said, snatching away her hand,
' with idle compliments. But forget not to come and carry me
away.'

'Alas!' he said ; 'how shall I exist — how bear this separation
for twelve long months 1 Oh, divine Kitty ! Ti.uu will remain an
ever-present idea in my heart.'

' Harry,' she burst out laughing in her tears, ' think of the learned
Boethius !'

So he left her.

In half an hour another visitor appeared.

This time it was Will. He was in his usual careless disorder ; his
scarlet coat a good deal stained, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his wig
awry, his boots dusty, his neckerchief torn, his hands and cheeks
browned by the sun. He carried a horsewhip, and was followed by
half-a-dozen dogs, who came crowding into the room after him.

' So,' he said, sitting down and leaning his chin upon his whip-
stock, ' thou must go, then V

'What do you want with me, Will?' she asked, angry that he
should show so little sympathy.

'Why,' he replied, rubbing his chin with the whipstock, 'not
\nuch, Kitty. Nancy will come to cry.'

' Then you can go away, Will '

' I came to say, Kitty, that though you do be going to go '

12 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

(Will easily dropped into country talk), 'I shauna forget thee
There !'

' Thank you, Will.'

' As for the matter of that, I love thee — ah! like I love old Eover
here.'

' Thank you again, Will.'

'And so I've brought along a sixpence — here it is — and we'll
break it together.' Here he bent and broke the coin with his strong
fingers. ' My half goes into my pocket — so ; and the other half is
thine— there.' He threw it on the table. 'Well, that's done.' He
stood up, looked at me sorrowfully, and heaved a great sigh. ' I
doubt I've a done wrong. Hadst been going to stay, a' would en a'
spoke yet awhile. Liberty is sweet — girls are skittish. Well, we'll
take a twelvemonth yet. There's no hurry. Plenty time before us.
I shall have my liberty for that while. Mayhap I will fetch thee in
the spring. Ay, May's the best month to leave the dogs and the
birds, though the vermin will begin to swarm — rot 'em ! Come,
Hover. Good-bye, wench.'

He gave her a resounding kiss on the cheek, and turned away.

The girl laughed. She did not pick up the broken sixpence,
which, indeed, she hardly noticed, her mind being full of many
things.

Presently Nancy came, and the two girls spent a miserable evening
together, in great love and friendship.

Now, how could an ignorant country girl, who had never thought
over these things at all, guess that she had engaged herself to be
married, in one day, in one hour even, to two different men ? Yet
that was exactly what this foolish Kitty had actually done.

CHAPTER III.

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON ON THE COACH.

With the purpose, therefore, of carrying out my father's injunctions,
I remained for a few days at the Vicarage alone, having one servant
to take care of me. But, had it not been for an accident, I might
have remained at the village all my life. ' For,' said Lady Levett,
'it is but right, child, that the instructions of your father should be
carried out ; I should like to know, however, who is to take charge
of thee to London, and how we are to get thee there ? A young
maid cannot be sent to London on a pack-horse, like a bundle of
goods. As for Sir Robert, he goes no more to town, since he has
ceased to be a member. I care not for the court, for my own part,
and am now too old for the gaieties of London. Nancy will enjoy
them, I doubt not, quite soon enough ; and as for the boys, I see not
very well how they can undertake so great a charge. I doubt,

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 13

Kitty, that thou must come to the Hall, after all. You can be
useful, child, and we will make you happy. There is the still-room,
where, heaven knows, what with the cowslip-wine, the strong waters,
the conserving, picklirig, drying, candying, and the clove gilliflowers
for palletting, there is work enough for you and Nancy, as well as
my still-room maid and myself. And just now, Sir Robert calling
every day for a summer sallet (which wants a light hand), to cool
his blood !'

I would very willingly have gone to the Hall ; I asked nothing
better, and could think of nothing more happy for myself, if it
could so be ordered. My father's wishes must certainly be obeyed ;
but if no one at the Hall could take charge of me, it seemed, at
first, as if there could be no going to London at all, for our farmers
and villagers were no great travellers. None of them knew much
of this vast round world beyond their own fields, unless it were the
nearest market-town, or perhaps Maidstone, or even Canterbury.
Now and again one of the rustics would go for a soldier (being
crossed in love) ; but he never came home again to tell of his campaigns.
Or one would go for a gentleman's servant (being too lazy to work
like his father) ; then he would return filled with all the wickedness
of London, and stay corrupting the minds of the simple folk, till
Sir Eobert bade him pack and be off, for a pestilent fellow. Or one
would go away to the nearest market-town to be apprenticed to a
handicraft (being ambitious, as will happen even to simple clods, and
aspiring to a shop). But if he succeeded, such an one would seldom
come back to the place which gave him birth.

An accident happened which served my purpose. There was a
certain farmer on Sir Robert's estate, whose sister had married a
London tradesman of respectability and reputed honesty, named
Samuel Gambit (he was a builder's foreman, who afterwards became
a master builder, and made great sums of money by taking city con-
tracts. His son, after him, rose to be an alderman in the city of
London). Whether the young woman was in ill health, or whether
she was prompted by affection, I know not, but she left her husband
for a space and journeyed into the country to see her friends and
people. Now when I heard, by accident, that she was about to
return, my heart fell, because I saw that my time was come, and
that a proper person to take charge of me during the journey was
found in Mrs. Gambit.

Madam sent for her. She was a strong, well-built woman, of
about six or seven and twenty, resolute in her bearing, and sturdy of
speech. She was not afraid, she said, of any dangers of the road,
holding (but that was through ignorance) highwaymen in contempt ;
but she could not be answerable, she said, and this seemed reason-
able, for the safety of the coach, which might upset and break our
necks. As for the rest, she would be proud to take the young lady
with her to London, and madam might, if she wished, consider the
extra trouble worth something ; but that she left to her ladyship.

i 4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' I know,' said Lady Levett, ' that it is a great charge for you to
:onduct a young gentlewoman to town in these bad and dangerous
;imes, when not only the high roads are thronged with robbers, and
;he streets with footpads, but also the very inns swarm with villains,
md gentlemen are not ashamed to insult young persons of respecta-
bility in stage-coaches and public places. But Kitty is a good girl,
not giddy, and obedient. I will admonish her that she obey you m
everything upon the road, and that she keep eyes, ears, and mouth
closed all the way.'

The good woman undertook to have her eye upon me the whole
journey. Then Lady Levett made her promise that she would take
me straight to St. Paul's Coffee House, St. Paul's Churchyard, there
to inquire after my uncle's residence, and never leave me until she
had seen me deposited safely in Dr. Shovel's hands.

Now was I in a flutter and agitation of spirits indeed, as was
natural, considering that I was going to leave my native place for
the first time in my life and to seek out new relations.

' Nancy !' I cried, ' what will be my lot 1 What will become
of mel'

Nancy said that she would tell my fortune if I would only leave
off walking about and wringing my hands and be comfortable.

Then she sat down beside me in her pretty, affectionate way, and
threw her arms round my waist, and laid her head upon my
shoulder.

' You are so tall and so pretty, Kitty, that all the men will lose
their hearts. But you must listen to none of them until the right
man comes. Oh ! I know what he is like. He will be a great noble-
man, young and handsome, and oh, so rich ! he will kneel at your
feet as humble as a lover ought to be, and implore you to accept his
title and his hand. And when you are a great lady, riding in your
own coach, as happy as the day is long, you will forget — oh no, my
dear ! sure I am you will never forget your loving Nancy.'

Then we kissed and cried over each other in our foolish girls' way,
promising not only kind remembrance, but even letters sometimes.
And we exchanged tokens of friendship. I gave her a ring, which
had been my mother's, made of solid silver with a turquoise and two
pearls, very rich and good, and she gave me a silver-gilt locket with
chased back, and within it a little curl of her hair, brown and soft.

Lady Levett gave me nothing but her admonition. I was going,
she said, to a house where I should meet with strangers who would
perhaps, after the manner of strangers, be quicker at seeing a fault
than a grace, and this particularly at the outset and very beginning,
when people are apt to be suspicious and to notice carefully. There-
fore I was to be circumspect in my behaviour, and, above all, be
careful in my speech, giving soft words in return for hard, and an-
swering railing, if there was any railing, with silence. But perhaps,
she said, there would be no railing, but only kindness and love, in
the which case I was all the more to preserve sweet speech and sweet

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 15

thoughts, so as not to trouble love. Then she was good enough to
say that I had ever been a good maid and dutiful, and she doubted
not that so I would continue in my new world, wherefore she kissed
me tenderly, and prayed, with tears in her eyes — for my lady, though
quick and sharp, was wondrous kind of heart — that the Lord would
have me in His keeping.

I say nothing about Sir Eobert, because he was always fond of me,
and would almost as soon have parted from his Nancy.

Now it was a week and more since I had, without knowing it, re-
ceived those overtures of love from Harry Temple and Will, which I
took in my innocence for mere overtures of friendship and brotherly
affection. They thought, being conceited, like all young men, that I
had at once divined their meaning and accepted their proposals ; no
doubt they gave themselves credit for condescension and me for
gratitude. Therefore, when, the evening before I came away, Harry
Temple begged me, with many protestations of regret, not to inform
Sir Eobert or madam of his intentions, I knew not what to say.
What intentions ? why should I not ?

' Eeigning star of Beauty !' he cried, laying his hand upon his
heart, ' I entreat thy patience for a twelvemonth. Alas ! such sepa-
ration ! who can bear it !

* "Fond Thyrsis sighs, through mead and vale,
His absent nymph lamenting— — " '

' Oh, Harry !' I cried, ' what do I care about Thyrsis and absent
nymphs ? You have promised to bring me back in a year. Very
well, then, I shall expect you. Of course you can tell Sir Eobert
whatever you please. It is nothing to me what you tell Sir Eobert
or my lady.'

' She is cold as Diana,' said Harry, with a prodigious sigh ; but I
broke from him, and would hear no more such nonsense. Sighing
shepherds and cruel nymphs were for ever on Harry Temple's lips.

As for Will, of course he wanted to have an explanation too. He
followed Harry, and, in his rustic way, begged to say a word or
two.

' Pray go on, Will,' I said.

' I promised a twelvemonth,' he explained. ' I'll not go back upon
my word. I did say a twelvemonth.'

' A twelvemonth 1 Oh yes. You said the same as Harry, T
remember.'

' I don't know what Harry said, but I'll swear, whatever Harry
said, I said just the clean contrary. Now, then, liberty's sweet, my
girl. Come, let us say fifteen months. Lord ! when a man is twenty-
one he don't want to be tied by the heels all at once. Let's both
have our run first. You are but a filly yet— ay — a six-months' puppy,
bo to say.'

' You said a twelvemonth, Will,' I replied, little thinking of what

16 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

he meant. How, indeed, could I know ? ' I shall expect you in a
twelvemonth.'

' Very good, then. A twelvemonth it must be, I suppose. Shan't
tell my father yet, Kitty. Don't you tell un neyther, there's a good
girl. Gad ! there will be a pretty storm with my lady when she
hears it ! Ho ! ho !'

Then he went off chuckling and shaking himself. How could a
courtly gentleman like Sir .Robert and a gentlewoman like her lady-
ship have a son who was so great a clown in his manner and his
talk ? But the sons do not always take after their parents. A stable
and a kennel, when they take the place of a nursery and a school, are
apt to breed such bumpkins even out of gentle blood.

In the morning at five T was to start in the cart which would take
lis across the country to the stage-coach.

Nancy got up with me, and we had a fine farewell kissing. The
boys were up too ; Harry out of compliment to me, dressed in a
nightcap and a flowered morning-gown ; and Will out of compliment
to his kennel, for whose sake he always rose at daybreak. He was
dressed in his old scarlet coat, he carried a whip in one hand, and
half-a-dozen dogs followed at his heels.

' Eemember, sweet Kitty,' whispered Harry, with a ceremonious
bow, ' it is but for a twelvemonth.'

' Only a year,' said Will. ' Heart up, my pretty !'

They heard what each had said, and they were looking at each
other puzzled when I drove away.

' What did you mean, Will V asked Harry, when the cart was out
of sight, ' by saying only a twelvemonth V

' I meant what I meant,' he replied doggedly. ' Perhaps you
know, and perhaps you don't.'

' Of bourse I know,' said Harry. ' The question is, ho w do you knew V

' Well,' replied Will, ' that is a pretty odd question, to be sure.
How could I help knowing V

' I think,' said Harry, red in the face, ' that some one has been
injudicious in telling anyone.'

Will laughed.

' She ought not to have told, that's a fact. But we will keep it
secret, Harry ; don't tell her ladyship.'

So that each thought that the other knew of his engagement with
Kitty.

Little heed gave I to them and their promises. It was pleasant,
perhaps, though I soon forgot to think about it at all, to remember
that Harry and Will after a twelvemouth would come to carry me
home again, and that I should never leave the old place again. But
just then I was too sad to remember this. I was going away, heaven
knew where, amongst strangers, to people who knew me not ; and
I mounted the cart in which we were to begin our journey crying
as sadly as if it had been the dreadful cart which goes to Tyburn
Tree. The best thin* to cure a crying fit is a good jolting. It ia

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 17

impossible to weep comfortably when you are shaken and rolled
about in a country cart among the deep, hard ruts of last winter.
So I presently put up my handkerchief, dried my eyes, and thought
cf nothing but of clinging to Mrs. Gambit when the wheels sank
deeper than usual. The way lay along the lanes which I knew so
well, arched over with trees and lofty hedges, then in their beautiful
spring dressing. It led past the churchyard, where the sua was
striking full upon my father's new-made grave. I tried to think of
him, but the cart jolted so terribly that I was fain to remember only
how I carried his last admonitions in my besom, and the money in
two bags sewn to my petticoats.

Presently the lane led on to the high-road, which was not quite
so rough, and here we came to the roadside inn where the stage-
coach changed horses. We waited an hour or so, until at length we
saw it coming slowly up the hill, piled with packages and crowded
with passengers. But thei*e was room for two moi*e, and we mounted
to our places outside. Presently the machine moved slowly along
again. It was so heavily-laden and the roads were so rough, that we
rolled as if every moment we were going to roll over into the ditch,
•where we should all be killed. Mrs. Gambit loudly declared that
nothing should ever again take her out of London, where a body
could ride in a coach without the fear of being upset and the break-
ing of necks. On this journey, however, no necks were broken,
because the coach did not upset. When the rolling was very bad,
Mrs. Gambit clutched me with one hand and her right-hand neigh-
bour with the other. I, in my turn, seized her with one hand and my
right hand neighbour with the other. Then we both shrieked, until
presently, finding that we did not actually go over, I began to laugh

My neighbour was a clergyman of grave and studious aspect. He
wore a full wig, which had certainly been a second-hand one when
it was bought, so shabby was it now ; his gown was also shabby, and
his stockings were of grey worsted. Clearly a country clergyman of
humble means. His face, however, looked young. When I caught
him by the arm, he laid hold of my hand with both of his, saying
gravely, ' Now, madam, I hold you so tightly that you cannot fall.'
This was very kind of him. And, presently, he wanted to lay his
arm round my waist for my better protection. But this was taking
more trouble than I would consent to.

There was, however, a worse danger than that of upsetting. Thi3
year, England suffered from a plague of highway-robbers, the like
of which was never before known. The roads were crowded with
them. They were mostly disbanded soldiers, who, being either dis-
inclined to return to their old trades, or being unable to find em-
ployment, roamed about the country either singly or in pairs, or in
bands, rogues and vagabonds, ready to rob, steal, plunder, or even
murder as occasion offered. They were sometimes so bold that they
would attack a whole coachful of passengers, and take from them
whatever they carried, unless, as ooruetimes happened, there were

9

i8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

one or two valiant men on the coach ready to give them a warm
reception with guns, pistols, swords, or even stout cudgels. They
were said seldom to show much fight (being conscious of the gallows
awaiting them if they were wounded or captured), and would gene-
rally make off. But it was not always that passengers were found
ready to risk the fight, and in most cases they sat still and delivered.
With this danger before us, it was not surprising that the conver-
sation should turn upon highwaymen whenever the road became a
little smooth, and I listened with terror to the tales I heard. Most
of them were related by a man who sat opposite to me. He wore
a scratch wig (probably his second-best), and had his hat flapped
and tied about his ears as if it were winter. He was, I suppose, a
merchant of some kind, because he talked a great deal about prices,
and stocks, and markets, with other things, Greek and Hebrew to
me. Also, he looked so uneasy, and kept watching the road with
so anxious an air, that I felt sure he must be carrying a great parcel
of money like' me, and I longed to advise him to imitate my pru-
dence ; and at the next town we got down to sew it within his coat.
He continually lamented, as we went along, the desperate wicked-
ness of the highway-robbers : he spoke of it as if he were entirely
disinterested, and regarded not at all the peril to his own fortune,
but only the danger of their own souls, liable to be wretchedly lost
and thrown away by their dreadful courses. And he talked so
teelingly on this subject that one began to feel as if good words were
being spoken to the edification of the soul. As for their suppression,
he said that, in their own interests, strong measures would be neces-
sary. Trade would never flourish, and therefore men would not be
induced to follow a respectable trade until ships could sail the seas
without fear of pirates, and honest merchants carry their property
up and down the king's highway without fear of highwaymen.
Here we came in sight of a man on horseback, and we all kept silence
for an anxious space, till we discovered, by his great wig and black
coat, that it was nothing but a country surgeon riding out to see a
patient. Then the merchant went on to say that since the gallows
did not terrify these evil-doers, he, for one, was for trying how they
would like the French wheel.

At this there was a terrible outcry : the clergyman, especially,
asking if he wished to introduce Trench barbarities.

' Such things,' he said solemnly, ' are the natural accompaniment
of Popery. Pray, sir, remember Smithfield.'

' Sir,' said the merchant, ' I hope I am as good a Protestant as my
neighbours. I call that, however, not barbarity but justice and
mercy which punishes the guilty and deters the weak. As for
barbarities, are we Protestants better than our neighbours ? Is it
not barbarous to flog our soldiers and sailors for insubordination ; to
flog our rogues at the cart-tail ; to lash the backs of women in
Bridewell ; to cut and scourge the pickpockets so long as the alder-
man chooses to hold up the hammer ? Do we not hack the limbs of

HOW WE CsiME TO LONDON. 19

cur traitors, and stick them up on Temple Bar ] Truly, the world
would come to a pretty pass if we were to ask our cut-throats what
punishment would hurt them least.'

' I like not the breaking of legs on wheels,' cried Mrs. Gambit.
' But to call the flogging of Bridewell hussies barbarous ! Fie, sir !
You might as well call bull-baiting barbarous.'

No one wanted to encourage highway-robbers, yet none but this
jierchant from foreign parts would allow that an Englishman, how-
ever wicked, should cruelly have his limbs broken and crushed by a
rod of iron.

' As for the gentlemen of the road,' said Mrs. Gambit, ' I, for one,
fear them not. They may take the butter and eggs in my basket,
but they won't find my money, for that is in my shoe.'

' Nor mine,' said I, taking courage and thinking to show my
cleverness ; 'for it is all sewn safe inside my petticoats.'

'Hush, silly women !' cried the merchant. 'You know not but
there is a highwayman sitting in disguise on the coach beside you.
I beg pardon, sir,' he turned to the clergyman beside me — ' no
offence, sir — though I have heard of a thief who robbed a coach after
travelling in it dressed as a gentleman of your cloth.'

' None, sir, none, 1 replied his reverence. ' Yet am I not a high-
wayman, I do assure you for your comfort. Nor have I any money
in my pocket or my shoe. I am but a simple clergyman, going to
look at a benefice which hath been graciously bestowed upon me.'

' That, sir,' said the merchant, ' is satisfactory, and I hope that no
other ears have heard what these ladies have disclosed. Shoes 1
petticoats ? Oh, the things that I have seen and heard !'

The clergyman then told us that he had a wife and six daughters,
and that the preferment (two hundred pounds a year !) would make
a man of him, who had as yet been little better than a slave with
sixty pounds for all his income. The Christian year, he told us, was
a long Lent for him, save that sometimes, as at Christmas and Easter-
tide, he was able to taste meat given to him. Yet he looked fat and
hearty.

'My drink,' he said, 'is from the spring, which costs nothing;
and my bread is but oatmeal-porridge, potatoes, or barley -meal.'

Then he pressed my hand in his, said I resembled his wife in her
younger days, and declared that he already felt to me like a father.

There sat next to the merchant a young gentleman of about
seventeen or eighteen, brave in scarlet, for he had just received a
commission as ensign in a regiment of the line, and was on his way
to join his colours, as he told us with pride. Directly highway
robbers were mentioned he assumed, being a young man with rosy
and blushing cheek, fitter for a game of cricket on the green than
for war's alarms, a fierce and warlike mien, and assured us that we
ladies should not want protection while he was on the coach. And
he made a great show of loosening his sword in the scabbard to
ensure its quick and ready use, should the occasion rise. The

2—2

2 o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

merchant received these professions of courage with undisguised
contempt ; the clergyman smiled ; Mrs. Gambit nodded her head
and laughed, as if he was a boy whose talk meant nothing. I neither
laughed at him nor scowled at him. In fact I was thinking, girl-
like, what a handsome boy he was, and hoping that he would some
day become a great general. As the country seems at the present
juncture sadly in want of great generals, I fear he has been killed
in action.

When we stopped for dinner, at one o'clock — I remember that I
never before saw so prodigious a piece of roast beef upon the table
— our host must needs spoil all enjoyment of the meal by asking us,
just as we were sat down, sharp-set by the air, if we had met or
seen anything of a certain ' Black Will,' who seemed to be very well
known by all. The very name caused our poor merchant to push
back his plate untasted, and the young officer to rise from the table
and hasten to assure himself that his sword was loose in the scabbard.
'Because,' said the landlord, 'it is right for you to know that
Black Will is reported in this neighbourhood with all his crew : a
bloody lot, gentlemen. I hope you have no valuables to speak of
upon you. However, perhaps they will not meet you on the road.
They murdered a man last year, a young gentleman like you, sir,
nodding to the ensign, ' because he offered resistance and drew his
sword. What is a little toothpick like that, compared with a
quarter-staff in the hands of a sturdy rogue 1 So they beat his
brains out for him. Then they gagged and used most unmercifully,
kicking him till he was senseless, an honest gentleman like yourself,
sir ' — he nodded to our merchant — ' who gave them the trouble of
taking off his boots, where, for greater safety, as the poor wretch

thought, he had bestowed his money '

'God bless my soul !' cried the merchant, changing colour so that
I for one felt quite certain that his was there too, and that hi3
courage was down in his boots as well, to keep the money company.
' Bless my soul ! hanging, mere hanging, is too good for such villains.'
' It is indeed,' replied the landlord, shaking his head. ' There was
a young lady, too ' — I started, because he looked at me — ' who had
her money sewn in a bag inside her frock.' I blushed red, knowing
where mine was. 'They made her take it off and dance a minuet
with one of them in her petticoats. But indeed there is no end to
tbeir wickedness. Come, gentlemen, let me carve faster ; spare not
the beef ; don't let Black Will spoil your appetites. Cut and come
again. He may be twenty miles away. A noble sirloin, upon my
word ! To be sure, he may be waiting on the hill there in the wood.'
' A glass of brandy, landlord,' cried the merchant, who surely was
a dreadful coward. ' Tell me, would he be alone V

' Not likely.' The landlord, I thought, took a pleasure in making
us uneasy. ' He would have two or three with him. Perhaps six.
With pistols. Do take some more beef. And blunderbusses. Ah !
a desperate wicked gang.'

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 21

In such cheerful discourse we took our dinner, and then, with
trepidation, mounted to our places and drove away.

We got up the hill safely, and met no Black Will. During tho
next stage we all kept an anxious look up and down the road. The
coach seemed to crawl, and the way was rough. The sight of a man
on horseback made our hearts beat ; if we saw two, we gave ourselves
up for lost. But I was pleased all the time to mark the gallant and
resolute behaviour of the boy, who, with his hand upon the hilt of
his sword, sat pale but determined ; and when he caught my eye,
smiled with the courage of one who would defend us to the death,
as I am sure he would, like the gallant young knight he was.

Towards the evening we caught sight of the tower of Canterbury
Cathedral, and soon afterwards we rolled through the streets of that
ancient city, and got down at the Crown Inn, where we were to rest
for the night.

I pass over, as unworthy of record, my own wonder at so great and
beautiful a city. This was the first town I had ever seen ; these the
first shops ; and this the first, and still the grandest, to my mind, of
great cathedral churches. We walked through the great church at
sunset, where there was something truly awful in the lofty arches
mounting heavenwards, and the gloom of the roof. Outside there
were Gothic ruins ; rooks were calling to each other in the trees, and
swifts were flying about the tower.

At supper we had more talk about highway-robbers, but we were
assured that there was less danger now, because between Canterbury
and London the road is more frequented, and therefore robbers, who
are by nature a timorous folk, hesitate to attack a coach. Moreover,
the landlord told us that we should have with us two or three honest
citizens of Canterbury, substantial tradesmen, who travelled to
London together for mutual protection, taking money with thera,
and pistols with which to defend themselves.

' One of them,' he added, ' is a lieutenant in the train-band, and a
draper in the city : a more resolute fellow never handled a yavd-
rueasure.'

The gentlemen ordered a bowl of punch after supper, and we
retired. As we left the room, the clergyman followed us. Outside
the door, Mrs. Gambit having already begun to go upstairs, he said
he would give me his benediction, which he did, kissing me on the
cheeks and lips with much (and undeserved) affection. He was
good enough to say that I greatly resembled his youngest sister, the
beautiful one, and he desired closer acquaintance. Nor could I
understand why Mrs. Gambit spoke scornfully of this act of kind-
ness, which was entirely unexpected by me. ' Kindness, quotha !'
she cried. ' A pious man indeed, to love to kiss a pretty maid I I
like not such piety.'

In the morning the train-band lieutenant, with his two friends,

>.me swaggering to the inn. He carried his pistols openly, and made

more display of them, I thought, than was necessary, considering

22 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

his character for resolution and desperate bravery. Then we started,
our little soldier still ready with his sword.

The road was smoother ; it ran for the most part along enclosures
and gentlemen's parks. It was broad and straight, having been
made, we were told by the draper, in the time of the Romans ; and
as we drew near to London, the villages became more frequent, and
the road was covered with carts, waggons, and carriages of every
kind, all moving towards London. Was London bigger than Canter-
bury ? I asked. They laughed at my innocence, and began to tell
me that you might take the whole of Canterbury out of London and
not miss it much : also that he or she who had not seen London had
not seen the greatest marvel and wonder of the world.

' There are fine buildings,' said the merchant, ' in Paris, though
the streets are foul ; but in London there are buildings as fine, with
streets that are broader : and there is the trade. Aha !' — he smacked
his lips — ' Paris hath no trade. One has to see the ships in the
Pool, and the Custom House, and the wharves, before one can
understand how great and rich a city is London. And one should
also — but that, young lady, you cannot ever do, live as long as you
will, being only a woman — feast at one of the great City Companies
to understand how nobly they can use their wealth.'

We were still anxious about highwaymen, but our fears were
greatly lessened by the presence of the brave draper of Canterbury.
The clergyman kept up a flow of anecdotes, which showed strange
acquaintance with the wickedness of the world, on highwaymen,
footpads, robbers of all kinds, deceivers of strangers, and practisers
on innocence. The merchant listened eagerly, and together they
bemoaned the credulity of the ignorant, and the subtlety of the
designing.

Our spirits grew higher as we neared the end of our journey.
Now, indeed, there was but little fear. The coach travels from
Canterbury to London in a single day ; we should arrive before
nightfall.

' Ha ! ha !' said the merchant, rubbing his hands, 'we who travel
encounter many dangers. In London one can go to bed without
fearing to be murdered in one's sleep, and walk abroad without
looking to be brained and murderously treated for the sake of a
purse and a watch. There may be pickpockets, shoplifters, and
such petty rogues : there may be footpads about St. Pancras or
Lincoln's Inn Fields, but small villains all compared with these
desperate rogues of highwaymen.'

' Desperate indeed,' said the clergyman. ' Dear sir, we should be
grateful for our preservation.'

It was already past seven when we arrived at the Talbot Inn.
The merchant fetched a deep sigh, and thanked Providence aloud
for keeping us safe from the danger of ' Stand and deliver !' The
clergyman said, 'Amen,' but gently reproved the merchant for not
allowing him, a3 an ordained minister, to take the lead in every

HOW WE CAME TO LONDON. 23

devotional exercise. When they got down they entered the house
together. The young ensign pulled off his hat to me, and said that
no doubt the rogues had got wind of an officer's presence on the
stage. Then he tapped his sword-hilt significantly, arid got down,
and I saw him no more. The gallant draper, getting down slowly,
lamented that he must still be carrying loaded pistols, with never
an opportunity for using them upon the road, and uncocked his
weapons with as much ostentatious care as he had shown in loading
them. .For my own part, I had no taste for fighting, or for seeing
fights, and was only too glad to escape the hands of men who, if
tales were true, did not even respect a girl's frocks. The clergyman
bestowed a final benediction upon me, saying that he craved my
name with a view to a closer friendship ; and would havr kissed
me again had not Mrs. Gambit pushed him away with great rough-
ness.

The thing I am now about to relate will doubtless seem incre-
dible. Yet it is true. I learned it some time after, when Black
Will was hanged, and his last Dying Speech and Confession was
cried in the streets.

The merchant and the clergyman entered the Talbot Inn to drink
together a bowl of punch at the former's expense. Before separating,
the latter, out of respect for his cloth, called for a private room,
whither the punch was presently brought.

Now, when they had taken a glass or two each, both being very
merry, they were disturbed by the entrance of two tall and ill-
favoured fellows, who walked into the room and sat down, one on
each side of the merchant.

' Gentlemen !' he cried, ' this is a private room, ordered by hia
reverence here and myself for the peaceful drinking of a thanks-
giving glass.'

' No,' replied the clergyman, rising and locking the door ; ' I find,
dear sir, that this room had been already bespoke by these gentle-
men, who are friends of mine own, and that we have very urgent
business which particularly concerns yourself.'

At these words the merchant turned pale, being, as you may
imagine, horribly frightened, and perceiving that he had fallen into
a nest of hornets. Whereupon he sprang to his feet, and would
have rushed to the door, but that two of the villains seized him and
pushed him back into the chair, while the third drew a knife and
held it at his throat, informing him that his weasand would most
certainly be cut across did he but move a finger or utter a sigh.
At this dreadful threat the poor man gave himself up for lost, and
said no more, only the tears of despair rolled down his face as he
thought of what was going to happen to him.

The good clergyman then, with smiles and a polite bow, informed
him that in this world things are not always what they seemed to
be. ' Houest tradesmen,' he said, 'often turn out to be common
cheats and substantial citizens become bankrupts. Therefore, it id

24 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

not surprising if a reverend minister of the Established Church
should occasionally bear a hand in a little scheme in which good
acting and dexterity are essentials necessary for success. In fact,
he went on, drinking up all the punch meanwhile, ' though to you
and to many good friends I am a pious divine, among my particular
intimates and these gentlemen of the road ' — here he pointed to the
three villains — ' I am no other than Black "Will, at your service !
Nay, do not faint, dear sir. Although you would break me on the
wheel, had you the power, I assure you I shall do you no harm in
the world. "Wherefore, kick off your boots !'

Alas ! in his boots was the money which the poor man was bring-
ing home from France. They took it all. They tied him to hu
chair, and that to the table. They gagged him ; they put his wig
on the table, tied a handkerchief over his head, so that he should
r<eem to be asleep ; and then they left him, telling the waiter that
the gentleman in the blue room was tired after his journey, and
y/ould like to be undisturbed for an hour or two.

To think that this villain (who was but twenty-four when he was
hanged, a year or so later) should dare to feel towards me like a
father, and to give me his blessing— on the lips !

CHAPTER IV.

HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOB.

It was past seven in the evening when we arrived at the Talbot Inn
of Southwark, and too late to begin our search after my uncle that
evening. Mrs. Gambit, therefore, after conference with a young
man of eight-and-twenty or so, dressed in broadcloth, very kindly
offered me a bed at her own lodging for the night. This, she told
me, was in a quiet and most respectable neighbourhood, viz., Fore
Street, which she begged me not to confound with Houndsditch. I
readily assured her that I would preserve separate the ideas of the
two streets, which was easy to one who knew neither.

She then informed me that the young man was no other than her
husband, foreman of works to a builder, and that, to save the expense
of a porter, he would himself carry my box. Mr. Gambit upon
this touched his hat respectfully, grinned, shouldered the box, and
led the way, pushing through the crowd around us, and elbowing
them to right and left without a word of excuse, as if they were so
many ninepins.

I learned afterwards that it is customary with the mechanical
tradesmen of London thus to assert their right of passage, and as it
is not everyone who skives W ay, the porter's burden is not un-
frequently lowered while he stons to tight one who disputes his path.

HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 25

In evidence of these street fights, most of the London carters, coach-
men, chairmen, porters, and labourers, bear continually upon their
faces the scars, recent or ancient, of many such encounters. As for
the gentlemen, it seems right that they should not disdain to strip
and take a turn with their fists against some burly ruffian who would
thrust his unmannerly body past his betters, confident in his superior
strength.

Mr. Gambit looked round from time to time to see if we were fol-
lowing, and it gave me pain to observe how my box, which was long
in shape, became the constant cause of sad accidents ; for with it Mr.
Gambit either knocked off a hat, or deranged a wig, or struck
violently some peaceful person on the back of his head, or gave an
inoffensive citizen a black eye, or caused profane passengers to swear.
He was, however, so big, strong, and careless about these reproaches,
that no one cared to stop him or offered to fight him until he waa
well on ahead.

' It's a royal supper,' he turned and nodded pleasantly, shouting
these words to his wife : the box thus brought at right angles to the
road, barred the way while he spoke, except to the very short.
' Tripe— fried tripe ! — with onions and carrots and potatoes. Will
be done to a turn at eight. Make haste !'

"What crowds ! what rushing to and fro ! what jostling, pushing,
and crowding ! What hurrying, and what wicked language ! Sure
something dreadful must have happened, nor could I believe Mrs.
Gambit when she assured me that this was the usual crowd of
LondoD.

Then we came to London Bridge : and I saw the ships in the river
and the Tower of London. Oh, the forests of masts ! And beyond
the river, the steeples of the great city shining bright in the evening
sunshine. Which of them was my uncle's church 1

We crossed the bridge ; we walked up Gracechurch Street to Corn-
hill ; we passed through a labyrinth of narrow and winding lanes,
crowded l>ke the wider streets. Mr. Gambit hurried along, thinking,
I suppose, of his supper, and using my box as a kind of battering-
ram with which to force a way. Presently we came to a broad
street, which was, in fact, Fore Street, where was Mrs. Gambit's
lodging.

' Eight o'clock,' said Mr. Gambit, aa we reached the top of the
stairs. ' Now for supper.'

There was such a noise in the street below that we could hardly
hear the church bells as they struck the hour. Yet there were
churches all round us. But their bells clanging together only added
somewhat to the general tumult.

' Eight o'clock, wife — good time !'

He dropped my box upon the floor, and hastened down the
stairs.

It was a comfortable lodging of two rooms, in one of which a cloth
was laid for supper, which Mr. Gambit speedily brought from a cook-

26 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

shop, and we had a royal supper indeed, with two quarts at least of
the nauseous black beer of London, to which such men are extra-
vagantly addicted.

Supper ended, Mr. Gambit lit a pipe of tobacco and began to
smoke, begging me not to mind bim. His wife told, him of the
farm and her brother, and I tried to listen through the dreadful noise
of the street below. It was a warm evening, and our window was
thrown open ; people were passing up and down, talking, singing,
whistling, shouting, and swearing. I could hear nothing else ; but
the good man seemed as if he was deaf to the roar of the street, and
listened to his wife as quietly as if we were in the fields. I asked
him presently, with a shout, what was the cause of the dreadful riot
and tumult % He laughed, and said that it was always the same. It
was a pity, I said, that London, being so rich, could not keep the
streets quiet.

' Ay, but,' said he, ' there are plenty of poor people as well, and
you must first ask what they think about having their mouths shut.'

The strangeness of the place and the noise in the streets kept me
awake nearly all that night, so that, when Mrs. Gambit called me in
the morning, I was still tired. But it was time to be up and seeking
for my uncle.

"We got everything ready : my father's last will and testament ;
my bags of money, which Mrs. Gambit carried for me in her basket,
and tied the basket to her arm ; and my box of clothes. Then,
because Mrs. Gambit said that a young lady should not walk with
her box carried by a porter, like a servant wench, we hired a coach
and told him to drive us to St. Paul's Coffee House.

It is not far from Pore Street to St. Paul's Churchyard, but the
crowd in the streets, the waggons and carts, and the dreadful practice
of London drivers to quarrel and then to stop while they abuse each
other, delayed us a great deal, so that it was already half -past nine
when we came to the Coffee House.

We got down, leaving the coach at the door.

It was a place the like of which I had never dreamed of. To be
sure, everything was new to me just then, and my poor rustic brain
was turning with the novelty. There was a long room which smelt
of tobacco, rum-punch, coffee, chocolate, and tea ; it was already
filled with gentlemen, sitting on the benches before small tables, at
which some were taking pipes of tobacco, some were talking, some
were writing, and some were reading the newspapers. Punning
along one side of the room was a counter covered with coffee-pots,
bottles of Nantz, Jamaica rum, Hollands, and Geneva : there were
also chocolate-dishes, sugar, lemons, spices, and punch-bowls. Behind
the counter sat a young woman, of grave aspect, knitting, but hold-
ing herself in readiness to serve the customers.

The gentlemen raised their heads and stared at me ; some of them
whispered and laughed ; all gazed as if a woman had no more
business there than in the inner precincts of the Temple. That waa

HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 27

•what occurred to me instantly, because they were, I observed, all of
them clergymen.

They were not, certainly, clergymen who appeared to have risen
in the world, nor did their appearance speak so much in their favour
as their calling. They were mostly, in fact, clad in tattered gowns,
with disordered or shabby wigs, and bands whose whiteness might
have been restored by the laundress, but had changed long since into
a crumpled yellow. I heard afterwards that the house was the
resort of those ' tattered crapes,' as they are irreverently called, who
come to be hired by the rectors, vicars, and beneficed clergy of
London, for an occasional sermon, burial, or christening, and have no
regular cure of souls.

On such chance employment and odd jobs these reverend ministers
contrive to live. They even vie with each other and underbid their
neighbours for such work ; and some, who have not the means to
spend a sixpence at the Coffee House, will, it is said, walk up and
down the street, ready to catch a customer outside. One fears that
there must be other reasons besides lack of interest for the ill success
of these men. Surely, a godly life and zeal for religion should be, even
in this country of patronage, better rewarded than by this old age
of penury and dependence. Surely, too, those tattered gowns speak a
tale of improvidence, and those red noses tell of a mistaken calling.

This, however, I did not then know, and I naturally thought there
must be some great ecclesiastical function in preparation, a confirm-
ing on a large scale, about to be celebrated in the great cathedral
close beside, whose vastness was such as amazed and confounded
me. These clergymen, whose poverty was no doubt dignified by
their virtues, were probably preparing for the sacred function after
the manner practised by my father, namely, by an hour's meditation.
Perhaps my uncle would be among them.

Seeing me standing there helpless, and I dare say showing, by
my face, what I immediately manifested in speech, my rusticity,
the young woman behind the counter came to my assistance, and
asked me, very civilly, what I lacked.

' I was told,' I stammered, ' to inquire at the St. Paul's Coffee
House for the present lodging of my uncle.' As if there was but
one uncle in all London !

'Certainly, madam/ said the woman, 'if you will tell me your
uncle's name.'

' I was told that you knew, at this house, the residence of every
London clergyman.'

' Yes, madam, that is true ; and of a good many country clergy-
men. If you will let me know his name, we will do what we can
to assist you.'

' He is named ' (I said this with a little pride, because I thought
that perhaps, from my own rusticity and the homeliness of my com-
panion, she might not have thought me so highly connected), ' he is
the Eeverend Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity.'

28 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

< •

1 Lord save us !' she cried, starting back and holding up her
hands, while she dropped her knitting-needle. Why did she stare,
smile, and then look upon me with a sort of pity and wonder 1 ' Dr.
Shovel is your uncle, madam V

' Yes,' I said. ' My father, who was also a clergyman, and is but
lately dead, bade me come to London and seek him out.'

She shook her head at this news, and called for one William.
There came from the other end of the room a short-legged man,
with the palest cheeks and the reddest nose I had ever seen. They
spoke together for a few minutes. William grinned as she spoke,
and scratched his head, under the scantiest wig I had ever seen.

' Can you tell me V I began, when she returned. I observed that
William, when he left her, ran quickly up the room, whispering to
the gentlemen, who had ceased to stare at me, and that, as soou as
he had whispered, they all, with one consent, put down their pipes,
or their papers, or their coffee, stayed their conversation, and turned
their clerical faces to gaze upon me, with a universal grin, which
seemed ill-bred, if one might so speak of the clergy. ' Can you
tell me 1'

' I can, madam ; and will,' she replied. ' What, did your father
notknow thepresent residence of Dr. Shovel 1 Ifear it will notbequite
such as a young lady of your breeding, madam, had a right to ex-
pect. But doubtless you have other and better friends.'

' She has indeed,' said Miss Gambit, ' if his hononr Sir Robert
Levett, Justice of the Peace, is to be called a good friend. But, if
you please, tell us quickly, madam, because our coach waits at the
door, and waiting is money in London. The country for me, where
a man will sit on a stile the whole day long, and do nothing, content
with his daily wage. And the sooner we get away from these
reverend gentlemen, who stare as if they had never seen a young
lady from the country before, the better.'

'Then,' the young woman went on, 'tell your man to drive you
down Ludgate Hill and up the Fleet Market on the prison side ; he
may stop at the next house to the third Pen and Hand. You will
find the doctor's name written on a card in the window.'

We thanked her, and got into the coach. When we told the
coachman where to go, he smacked his leg with his hand, and burst
out laughing.

' I thought as much,' cried the impudent rascal. ' Ah, Mother
Slylips ! wouldn't the doctor serve your turn, but you must needs
look out for one in the Coffee House \ I warrant the doctor is good
enough for the likes of you !'

He cracked his whip, and we drove off slowly.
Now, which was really extraordinary, all the reverend gentlemen
of the coffee-room had left their places and were crowded round the
door, some of them almost pushing their wigs into the coach
windows in their eagerness to look at us. This seemed most un-
seemly conduct on the part of a collection of divines ; nor did X

HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 29

imagine that curiosity so undignified, and so unworthy a sacred
profession, could be called forth by the simple appearance of a young
girl in the coffee-room.

The faces formed a curious picture. Some of the clergymen were
stooping, some standing, some mounting on chairs, the better to see,
so that the doorway of the Coffee House seemed a pyramid of faces.
They were old, young, fat, thin, red, pale, of every appearance and
every age ; they were mostly disagreeable to look at, because their
possessors were men who had been unsuccessful, either through mis-
fortune or through fault ; and they all wore, as they stared, a look
of delighted curiosity, as if here was something, indeed, to make
Londoners talk — nothing less, if you please, than a girl of seventeen,
just come up from the country.

' Bless us V cried Mrs. Gambit, ' are the men gone mad ? Lon-
don is a wicked place indeed, when even clergymen come trooping
out merely to see a pretty girl ! Fie for shame, sir, and be off with
you !'

These last words were addressed to one old clergyman with an
immense wig, who was actually thrusting his face through the
coach window. He drew it back, on this reprimand, and we went
on our way.

I looked round once more. The young woman of the counter
was still in the doorway, and with her William, with the scrubby
wig and the red nose ; round them were the clergymen, and they
were all talking about me, and looking after me. Some of them
wagged their heads, some shook theirs, some nodded, some were
holding their heads on one side, and some were hanging theirs.
Some were laughing, some smiling, some were grave. What did it
mean?

' If,' said Mrs. Gambit, ' they were not clergymen, I should say
they were all tomfools. And this for a pretty girl — for you are
pretty, Miss Kitty, with your rosy cheeks and the bright eyes which
were never yet spoiled by the London smoke. But there must be
plenty other pretty girls in London. And them to call themselves
clergymen !'

' Perhaps they were looking at you, Mrs. Gambit.'

The idea did not seem to displease her. She smiled, smoothed the
folds of her gown, and pulled down the ends of her neckerchief.

' Five years ago, child, they might. But I doubt it is too late.
Set them up, indeed ! As if nothing would suit them to look at
but the wife of a respectable builder's foreman. They must go into
the country, must they, after the pretty faces V

But oh, the noise and tumult of the streets ! For as we came
to the west front of St. Paul's, we found Ludgate Hill crowded
with such a throng as I had never before believed possible. The
chairmen jostled each other up and down the way. The carts,
coaches, drays, barrows, waggons, trucks, going up the hill, met
those going down, and there was such a crush of carriages, as, it

30 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

seemed, would never be cleared. All the drivers were swearing at
each other at the top of their voices.

' Shut your ears, child !' cried Mrs. Gambit. But, immediately
afterwards : ' There ! it's no use ; they could be heard through my
grandfather's nightcap ! Oh, this London wickedness !'

There are many kinds of wickedness in London ; but the worst,
as I have always thought, because I have seen and heard so much
of it, is the great and terrible vice of blasphemy and profane swear-
ing, so that, if you listen to the ragamuffin boys or to the porters,
or to the chair and coach men, it would seem as if it were impossible
for them to utter three words without two, at least, being part of
an oath.

Then some of the drivers fought with each other ; the people in
the coaches looked out of the windows — swore, if they were men ; if
they were ladies, they shrieked. Most of those who were walking
up and down the hill took no manner of notice of the confusion ; they
pushed on their way, bearing parcels and bundles, looking neither to
the right nor to the left, but straight in front, as if they bad not a
moment to spare, and must push on or lose their chance of fortune.
Some there were, it is true, who lingered, looking at the crush in the
road and the men fighting ; or, if they were women, stopping before
the shops, in the windows of which were hoods, cardinals, sashes,
pinners, and shawls, would make the mouth of any girl to water
only to look at them. At the doors stood shopmen, bravely habited
in full-dressed wigs with broad ribbon ties behind, who bowed and
invited the gazers to enter. And there were a few who loitered as
they went. These carried their hats beneath their arms, and dangled
canes in their right hands.

There was plenty of time for us to notice all that passed, because
the block in the way took fully half an hour to clear away. We
were delayed ten minutes of this time through the obstinacy of a
drayman, who, after exchanging with a carter oaths which clashed,
and clanged, and echoed in the air like the bombshells at the siege
of Mans, declared that he could not possibly go away satisfied until
he had fought his man. The mob willingly met his views, applaud-
ing so delicate a sense of honour. They made a ring, and we
presently heard the shouts of those who encouraged the combatants,
but happily could not see them, by reason of the press, Mrs.
Gambit would fain have witnessed the fight ; and, indeed, few
country people there are who do not love to see two sturdy fellows
thwack and belabour each other with quarter-staff, single-stick, or
fists. But I was glad that we could not see the battle, being, I hope,
better taught. My father, indeed, and Lady Levett were agreed that
in these things we English were little better than the poor pagan
Romans, who crowded to see gladiators do battle to the death, or
prisoners fight till they fell, cruelly torn and mangled by the lions ;
and no better at all than the poor Spanish papists who flock to a
circus where men tight with bulls. It is hard to think that Boinan

HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 31

gentlewomen and Spanish ladies would go to see such sights, what-
ever men may do. Yet in this eighteenth century, when we have
left behind us, as we flatter ourselves, the Gothic barbarisms of our
ancestors, we still run after such cruelties and cruel sports as tights
with fists, sticks, or swords, baitings of bull, bear, and badger,
throwing stones at cocks, killing of rats by dogs and ferrets, fights
of cocks, dogs, cats, and whatever other animals can be persuaded to
fight and kill each other.

When the fight was over, and one man defeated — I know not
which, but both were horribly bruised and stained with blood —the
carts cleared away rapidly, and we were able to go on. Is it not
strange to think that the honour of such a common fellow should be
' satisfied ' when he hath gotten black eyes, bloody nose, and teeth
knocked down his throat ?

We got to the bottom of the hill, and passed without further ad-
venture through the old gate of Lud, with its narrow arch and the
stately effigy of Queen Elizabeth looking across the Fleet Bridge.
Pity it is that the old gate has since been removed. For my own
part, I think the monuments of old times should be carefully
guarded and kept, not taken away to suit the convenience of dray-
men and coaches. What would Fleet Street be without its bar '? or
the Thames without its river-gates ? Outside, there was a broad
space before us. The Fleet river ran, filthy and muddy, to the left,
the road crossing it by a broad and handsome stone bridge, where
the way was impeded by the stalls of those who sold hot furmety
and medicines warranted to cure every disease. On the right, the
Fleet had been recently covered in, and was now built over with a
long row of booths and stalls. On either side the market were rows
of houses.

' Fleet Market,' said the driver, looking round. ' Patience, young
lady. Five minutes, and we are there.'

There was another delay here of two or three minutes. The
crowd was denser, and I saw among them two or three men with
eager faces, who wore white aprons, and ran about whispering in
the ears of the people, especially of young people. I saw one couple,
a young man and a girl, whom they all, one after the other, ad-
dressed, whispering, pointing, and inviting. The girl blushed and
turned away her head, and the young man, though he marched on
stoutly, seemed not ill pleased with their proposals. Presently one
of them came to our coach and put his head in at the window.
It was as impudent and ugly a head as ever I saw. He squinted,
one eye rolling about by itself, as if having quarrelled with the
other ; he had had the bridge of his nose crushed in some fight ;
some of his teeth stuck out like fangs, but most were broken ; his
chin was bristly with a three days' beard ; his voice was thick and
hoarse ; and when he began to speak, his hearers began to think of
rum.

' Pity it is,' he said, ' that so pretty a pair cannot find gallant

32 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

husbands. Now, ladies, if you will come with me I warrant that in
half an hour the doctor will bestow you upon a couple of the young
noblemen whom he most always keeps in readiness.'

Here the driver roughly bade him begone about his business for
an ass, for the young lady was on her way to the doctor's. At this
the fellow laughed and nodded his head.

' Aha !' he said, ' no doubt we shall find the gentleman waiting.
Your ladyship will remember that I spoke to you first. The fees of
us messengers are but half-a-crown, even at the doctor's, where alone
the work is secure.'

' What means the fellow?' cried Mrs. Gambit. 'What have we
to do with gentlemen V

'All right, mother,' he replied, with another laugh. Then he
mounted the door-step, and continued to talk while the coach slowly
made its way.

We were now driving along the city side of the Fleet Market,
that side on which stands the prison. The market was crowded
with buyers and sellers, the smell of the meat, the poultry, and the
fruit, all together, being strong rather than delicate.

'This,' said Mrs. Gambit, 'is not quite like the smell of the honey-
suckle in the Kentish hedges.'

The houses on our right seemed to consist of nothing but taverns,
where signs were hoisted up before the doors. At the corner, close
to the ditch, was the Eainbow, and four doors higher up was the
Hand and Pen, next to that the Bull and Garter, then another
Hand and Pen, then the Bishop Blaize, a third Hand and Pen, the
Fighting Cocks, and the Naked Boy. One called the White Horse
had a verse written up under the sign :

' My White Horse shall beat the Bear,
And make the Angel fly ;
Turn the Ship with its bottom up ;
And drink the Three Cups dry.'

But what was more remarkable was that of the repetition in every
window of a singular announcement. Two hands were painted, or
drawn rudely, clasping each other, and below them was written,
printed, or scrawled, some such remarkable legend as the following :

'Weddings Performed Here.'

*A Church of England Clergyman always on the Premisee.'

' Weddings performed Cheap. '

' The Only Safe House.'

'The Old and True Register.

•Marriage by Church Service and Ordained Clergymen,

' Safety and Cheapness. '

' The Licensed Clergyman of the Fleet.'

' Weddings by a late Chaplain to a Nobleman — one

familiar with the Quality.'

' No Imposition.'

' Not a Common Fleet Parson j*

with other statements which puzzled me exceedingly.

HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR, 33

'You do well, ladies,' the man with us went on, talking with his
head thrust into the coach, 'you do well to come to Doctor Shovel,
whose humble servant, or clerk, I am. The Doctor is no ordinary
Fleet parson. He does not belong to the beggarly gentry — not
regular clergymen at all — who live in a tavern, and do odd jobs as
they come, for a guinea a week and the run of the landlord's rum.
Not he, madam. The Doctor is a gentleman and a scholar : Master
of Arts of the University of Cambridge he was, where, by reason of
their great respect for his learning and piety, they have made him
Doctor of Divinity. There is the Rev. Mr. Arkwell, who will read
the service for you for half-a-crown ; he was fined five shillings last
week for drunkenness and profane swearing. Would it be agree-
able to your ladyship to be tm-ned off by such an impious rogue ?
There is the Kev. Mr. Wigmore will do it for less, if you promise to
lay out your wedding money afterwards on what he calls his Nantz :
he hath twice been fined for selling spirituous drinks without a
license. Who would trust herself to a man so regardless of his pro-
fession ? Or the Rev. John Mottram — but there, your ladyship
would not like to have it read in a prison. Now, at the Doctor's is
a snug room with hassocks. There is, forsooth, the Rev. Walter
Wyatt, brother of him who keeps the first Pen and Hand after you
turn the corner ; but sure, such a sweet young lady would scorn to
look for drink after the service ; or the Eev. John Grierson, or Mr.
Walker, or Mr. Alexander Keith, will do it for what they can get,
ay ! even — it is reported — down to eighteenpence or a shilling,
with a sixpenny worth of Geneva. But your ladyship must think of
your lines ; and where is your security against treachery 1 No,
ladies. The Doctor is the only man ; a gentleman enjoying the
liberties of the Fleet, for which he hath given security ; a Cambridge
scholar ; who receives at his lodging none but the quality : no less a
fee than a guinea, with half-a-crown for the clerk, ever enters his
house. The guinea, ladies, includes the five-shilling stamp, with the
blessing of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which binds the happy
pair like an act of parliament or a piece of cobbler's wax. This
cheapness is certainly due to the benevolence and piety of the
Doctor, who would be loth indeed to place obstacles in the way of so
Christian and religious a ceremony.'

' We have certainly,' cried Mrs. Gambit, in dismay at such a flow
of words, ' got into Tom Fool's Land. This man is worse than the
parsons at the Coffee House.'

' Now, ladies,' the fellow went on, throwing the door wide open
with a fiing, and letting down the steps, ' this is the house. Look
at it, ladies !''

We got down and stood looking at it.

It was a low house of mean appearance, built in two stories of
brick and timber, the first floor overhanging the lower, as was the
fashion until the present comfortable and handsome mode of using
stucco and flat front was adopted. The brick had been once covered

3

34 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

with a coat of yellow wash, which had crumbled away over most of
the front ; the timber had once been painted, but the paint had
fallen off. The roof was gabled ; like the rest of the house, it looked
decaying and neglected. The window of the room which looked out
upon the street was broad, but it was set with leaden frames of the
kind called diamond, provided with the common greenish glass
every other pane being those thick bullseye panes, which would
stand a blow with a club without being broken. Little light would
enter at that window but for the bright sun which shone full upon
it j the casement, however, was set open to catch the air.

As for the air, that was hardly worth catching, so foul was it with
the fumes of the market. Eight in front of the door stood a great
heap of cabbage leaves, stalks, and vegetable refuse, which some-
times was collected, put in barrows, and carted into the Fleet Ditch,
but sometimes remained for months.

Mrs. Gambit sniffed disdainfully.

' Give me Fore Street,' she said. ' There's noise, if you like, but
no cabbage-stalks.'

' This, ladies,' said the man after a pause, so that we might be
overpowered with the grandeur of the house ; ' this is no other thau
the great Dr. Shovel's house. Here shall you find a service as regular
and as truly read as if you were in the cathedral itself. Not so
much as an amen dropped. They do say that the Doctor is a private
friend of the dean, and hand-in-glove with the bishop. This way.
Your ladyship's box % I will carry it. This is the good Doctor's
door. The clerk's fee half-a-crown ; your ladyship will not forget,
unless the young geutleman, which is most likely, should like to
make it half-a-guinea. I follow your ladyships. Doubt not that,
early as it is, his reverence will be found up and ready for good
works.'

'I believe,' said Mrs. Gambit, 'that this man would talk the hind
legs off a donkey. Keep close to me, Miss Kitty. Here may be
villainy ; and if there is, there's one at least that shall feel the
weight of my ten nails. Young man,' she addressed the fellow with
sharpness, ' you let that box alone, or if you carry it, go before ; I
trust Londoners as far as I can see them, and no farther.'

' Pray, ladies,' cried the man, ' have no suspicion.'

' It's all right,' said the coachman, grinning'. ' Lord ! I've brought
them here by dozens. Go in, madam. Go in, young lady.'

' This way, ladies,' cried the man. ' The Doctor will see you
within.'

'A clergyman,' continued Mrs. Gambit, taking no manner of
notice of these interruptions, ' may not always, no more than a
builder's foreman, choose where he would live. And if his parish
is the Fleet Market, among the cabbages, as I suppose the Doctor's
is, or about the Fleet Prison, among'" the miserable debtors, as I
suppose it may be, why he must faiu live here with the cabbage-
stalks beneath his nose, and make the best of it.'

HOW KITTY FIRST SAW THE DOCTOR. 35

' Your ladyship,' the messenger went on, addressing himself to
me, ' will shortly, no doubt, be made happy. The gentleman, how-
ever, hath not yet come. Pray step within, ladies.'

' You see, Miss Kitty,' said Mrs. Gambit, pointing to the window,
with a disdainful look at this impertinent fellow, ' this is certainly
the house. So far, therefore, we are safe.'

In the window there hung a card, on which was written in large
characters, so that all midit read :

REVEREND GREGORY SHOVEL,

Doctor of Divinity,
Formerly of Cambridge University.

Now, without any reason, I immediately connected this announce-
ment with those curious advertisements I had seen in the tavern
windows. And yet, what could my uncle have to do with marry-
ing ? And what did the man mean by his long rigmarole and non-
sense about the Reverend This and the Reverend That ?

However, Mrs. Gambit led the way, and I followed.

The messenger pushed a door open, and we found ourselves in a
low room lit by the broad window with the diamond panes, of which
I have spoken. The air in the room was close, and smelt of tobacco
and rum : the floor was sanded : the wainscoting of the walls was
broken in places ; walls, floors, and ceiling were all alike unwashed
and dirty : the only furniture was a table, half-a-dozen cushions or
hassocks, and one great chair with arms and back of carved wood.
On the table was a large volume. It was the Prayer-book of the
Established Church of England and Ireland, and it was lying open,
I could plainly see, at the Marriage Service.

At the head of the table, a reflection of the sunlight from the
window falling full upon his face, sat a man of middle age, about
lifty-five years or so, who rose when we came in, and bowed with
great gravity. Could this be my uncle ?

He was a very big and stout man — one of the biggest men I have
ever seen. He was clad in a rich silk gown, flowing loosely and
freely about him, white bands, clean and freshly starched, and a
very full wig. He had the reddest face possible : it was of a deep
crimson colour, tinged with purple, and the colour extended even
to the ears, and the neck — so much of it as could be seen — was as
crimson as the cheeks. He had a full nose, long and broad, a nose
of great strength and very deep in colour ; but his eyes, which were
large, reminded me of that verse in the Psalms, wherein the divine
poet speaks of those whose eyes swell out with fatness : his lips
were gross and protruded ; he had a large square forehead and a
great amplitude of cheek. He was broad in the shoulders, deep-

S— 2

36 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

chested and portly— a man of great presence ; when he stood upright
he not only seemed almost to touch the ceiling, but also to fill up the
breadth of the room. My heart sank as I looked at him ; for he
was not the manner of man I expected, and I was afraid. "Where
were the outward signs and tokens of that piety which my father
had led me to expect in my uncle ? I had looked for a gentle scholar,
a grave and thoughtful bearing. But, even to my inexperienced
eyes, the confident carriage of the Doctor appeared braggart : the
roll of his eyes when we entered the room could not be taken even
by a simple country girl for the grave contemplation of a humble
and fervent Christian : the smell of the room was inconsistent with
the thought of religious meditation : there were no books or papers,
or any other outward signs of scholarship ; and even the presence of
the Prayer-book on the table, with the hassocks, seemed a mockery
of sacred things.

'So, good Eoger,' he said, in a voice loud and sonorous, yet musical
as the great bell of St. Paul's, so deep was it and full — ' So, good
Eoger, whom have we here V

' A young lady, sir, whom I had the good fortune to meet on Lud-
gate Hill. She was on her way to your reverence's, to ask your
good offices. She is— ahem ! — fully acquainted with the customary
fees of the Establishment.'

' That is well,' he replied. ' My dear young lady, I am fortunate
in being the humble instrument of making so sweet a creature
happy. But I do not see . in fact the other party.'

' The young lady expects the gentleman every minute,' said the
excellent Eoger.

' Oh !' cried Mrs. Gambit, ' the man is stark mad— staring mad !'

' Sir,' I faltered — ' here is, I fear, some mistake.'

He waved both of his hands with a gesture reassuring and grand.

' No mistake, madam, at all. I am that Dr. Shovel before whom
the smaller pretenders in these Liberties give place and hide dimi-
nished heads. If by any unlucky accident your lover has fallen a
prey to some of those (self-styled) clerical gentry, who are in fact
impostors and sharpers, we will speedily rescue him from their
talons. Describe the gentleman, madam, and my messenger shall
go and seek him at the Pen and Hand, or at some other notorious
place.'

The clerk, meanwhile, had placed himself beside his master, and
now produced a greasy Prayer-book, with the aid of which, I sup-
pose, he meant to give the responses of the Church. At the
mention of the word ' mistake ' a look of doubt and anxiety crossed
his face.

' There is, indeed, some mistake, sir,' I repeated. ' My errand
here is not of the kind you think.'

' Then, madam, your business with me must be strange indeed.
Sirrah !' he addressed his clerk, in a voice of thunder, ' hast thou
been playing the fool ? What was it this young lady sought of you V

HOW KITTY FIRST SA W THE DOCTOR. 37

' Oh, sir ! this good person is not to blame, perhaps. Are you
indeed the Eev. Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity V

' No other, madam.' He spread out both his arms, proudly lifting
his gown, so that he really seemed to cover the whole of the end of
the room. ' No other : I assure you I am Dr. Gregory Shovel, known
and beloved by many a happy pair.'

' And the brother-in-law of the late Reverend Lawrence Pleydell,
late vicar of '

He interrupted me. ' Late vicar ? Is, then, my brother-in-law
dead ? or have they, which is a thing incredible, conferred prefer-
ment upon sheer piety V

' Alas ! sir,' I cried, with tears, ' my father is dead.'

' Thy father, child !'

' Yes, sir ; I am Kitty Pleydell, at your service.'

' Kitty Pleydell !' He bent over me across the table, and looked
into my face not unkindly ' My sister's child ! then how — — ' He
turned upon his clerk, who now stood with staring eyes and open
month, chap-fallen and terrified. ' Fool !' he thundered. ' Get
thee packing, lest I do thee a mischief !'

CHAPTER V.

HOW KITTY WITNESSED A FLEET WEDDING.

Then I pulled out my father's letter, and gave it to him to read.

He took it, read it carefully, nodding gravely over each sentence,
and then returned it to me.

' Lawrence, then,' he said softly, ' Lawrence is dead ! Lawrence
Pleydell is dead ! And I am living. Lawrence ! He hath, with-
out reasonable doubt, passed away in full assurance. He hath ex-
changed this world for a better. He hath gone to happiness. Nay,
if such as he die not in faith, what hope remains for such sinners
as ourselves 1 Then would it be better for those who dwell in the
Liberties of the Fleet if they had never been born. So. My sister's
child. Hold up thy face, my dear.' He kissed me as he spoke, and
held his hand under my chin so that he could look at me well.
'There is more Pleydell than Shovel here. That is well, because
the Pleydells are of gentle blood. And the daughter doth ever
favour the father more than the mother. Favour him in thy life,
child, as well as in thy features.

'Lawrence is dead !' he went on. 'The gentlest soul, the most
pious and religious creature that the world has ever seen. He, for
one, could think upon his Maker without the terror of a rebellion*
and prodigal son. The world and the flesh had no temptations for

38 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

him. A good man, indeed. It is long since I saw him, and he
knew not where I live, nor how. Yet he, who knew me when I
was young, trusted still in me — whom no one else will trust. This
it is to start in life with goodly promise of virtue, scholarship, and
religion.'

He cleared his throat, and was silent awhile.

' Thy father did well, child. I will treat thee as my own daughter.
Yet I know not, indeed, where to bestow thee, for this house is not
fit for girls, and I have none other. Still, I would fain take thy
father's place, so far as in me lies. He, good man, lived in the
country, where virtue, like fresh butter and new-laid eggs, flourishes
easily and at the cost of a little husbandry in the way of prayer and
meditation. As for us who live in great cities, and especially in the
Rules or Liberties of the Fleet, we may say with the Psalmist,
having examples to the contrary continually before us, with temp-
tations such as dwellers in the fields wot not of, " He that keepeth
the Law, happy is he !" I have neither wife nor child to greet thee,
Kitty. I must bestow thee somewhere. What shall we do ?'

He paused to think.

' I might find a lodging but no, that would not do. Or in

but the house is full of men. There is the clerk of St. Sepulchre's,
whose wife would take thee ; but the rector bears me a heavy
grudge. Ho ! ho !' he laughed low down in his chest. ' There is
not a parish round London, from Limehouse to Westminster, and
from Southwark to Highgate, where the niece of Dr. Shovel would
not find herself flouted, out of the singular hatred which the clergy
bear to me. For I undersell them all. And if they pass an Act to
prevent my marrying, then will I bury for nothing and undersell
them still. Well, I must take order in this matter. And who are
you, my good woman V He asked this of Mrs. Gambit.

'Jane Gambit, sir,' she replied, 'at your service, and the wife of
Samuel Gambit, foreman of works. And my charge is not to leave
Miss Kitty until she is safe in your reverence's hands. There are
the hands, to be sure ; but as for safety '

She paused, and sniffed violently, looking round the room with a
meaning air.

' Why, woman, you would not think the child in danger with
me?'

' I know not, sir. But Miss Kitty has been brought up among
gentlefolk, and the room is not one to which she has been accus-
tomed to live in, or to eat in, or to sleep in, either at the Vicarage
or the Hall. Tobacco and the smell of rum maybe very well — in
their place, which, I humbly submit, is in a tavern, not a gentle-
woman's parlour.'

' The woman speaks reason,' he growled, laying his great baud
upon the table. 'See, my dear, my brother-in-law thought me
holding a rich benefice in the Church. Those get rich benefices w ],
have rich friends and patrons. I had none • therefore I hold nu

A FLEET WEDDING. 39

benefice. And as for my residence, why, truly, I have little choice
except between this place and the Fleet Prison, or perhaps the
King's Bench. Else might I welcome thee in a better and more
convenient lodging. Know, therefore, Kitty, without any conceal-
ment, that I live here secluded in the Liberties of the Fleet in order
that my creditors, of whom I have as many as most men and more
importunate, may no longer molest me when I take my walks
abroad ; that I am in this place outside the authority of the bishop ;
and that my occupation is to marry, with all safety and despatch.,
without license, or asking of banns, or any of the usual delays, those
good people who wish to be married secretly and quickly, and can
afford at least one guinea fee for the ceremony.'

I stared in amazement. To be sure, every clergyman can marry,
but for a clergyman to do naught else seemed strange indeed.

He saw my amazement ; and, drawing his tall and burly figure
upright, he began to deliver an oration — I call it an oration, because
he so puffed his cheeks, rolled his sentences, and swelled himself out
while he spoke, that it was more like a sermon or oration than a
mere speech. In it he seemed to be trying at once to justify himself
in my eyes, to assert his own self-respect, and to magnify his office.

' It is not likely, child/ he said, ' that thou hast been told of these
marriages in the Fleet. Know, therefore, that in this asylum, called
the Rules of the Fleet, where debtors find some semblance of freedom
and creditors cease to dun, there has grown up a custom of late years
by which marriages are here ra.pidly performed (for the good of the
country), which the beneficed clergy would not undertake without
great expense, trouble, delay, and the vexation of getting parents'
and guardians' consent, to say nothing of the prodigality and waste-
ful expense of feasting which follows what is called a regular
marriage. Therefore, finding myself some years ago comfortably
settled in the place, after contracting a greater debt than is usually
possible for an unbeneficed clergyman, I undertook this trade, which
is lucrative, honourable, and easy. There are indeed,' he added,
' both in the Prison and the Rules, but more especially the latter,
many Fleet parsons ' — here he rolled his great head with compla-
cency — ' but none, my child, so great and celebrated as myself.
Some, indeed, are mere common cheats, whose marriages— call them,
rather, sacrilegious impostures— are not worth the paper of their
pretended certificates. Some are perhaps what they profess to be,
regularly ordained clergymen of the Church of England and Ireland
as by law established, the supreme head of which is his gracious
Majesty. But even these are tipplers, and beggars, and paupers —
men who drink gin of an evening and small beer in the morning,
whose gowns are as ragged as their reputations, and who take their
fees in shillings, with a dram thrown in, and herd with the common
offscourings of the town, whom they marry. Illiterate, too : not a
Greek verse or a Latin hexameter among them all. Go not into the
company of such, lest thou be corrupted by their talk, in tho

40 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

words of King Lemuel : " Let them drink and forget their poverty,
and remember their misery no more."' Here he paused and ad-
justed his gown, as if he were in a pulpit. Indeed, for the moment,
he imagined, perhaps, that he was preaching. 'As for me, Gregory
Shovel, my marriages are what they pretend to be, as tight as any
of the archbishop's own tying, conducted with due decorum by a
member of the University of Cambridge, a man whose orders are
beyond dispute, whose history is known to all, an approved and
honoured scholar. Yes, my niece, behold in me one who has borne
off University and College medals for Latin verse. My Latin verses,
wherein I have been said to touch Horace, and even to excel Ovid,
whether in the tender elegiac, the stately alcaic, the melting sapphic,
or the easy-flowing hendecasyllabic loved of Martial, have conferred
upon, my head the bays of fame. Other Fleet parsons ? Let them
hide fo\eir ignorant heads in their second-hand peruques ! By the
thunders of Jupiter !' — his powerful voice rose and rolled about the
room lika the thunder by which he swore — ' By the thunders of
Jupiter, 1 am their Bishop ! Let them acknowledge that I, and I
alone, am The Chaplain op the Fleet !'

During th s speech he swelled himself out so enormously, and so
flourished bin long gown, that he seemed to fill the whole room. I
shrank into a <nrner, and clasped Mrs. Gambit's hand.

This kind oi terror I have always felt since, whenever, which is
rare, I have heard a man speak in such a full, rich, manliness of
voice. It was a ^oice with which he might have led thousands to
follow him and do his bidding. When I read of any great orator
at whose speeches vhe people went mad, so that they did what he
told them were it but to rush along the road to certain death, 1
think of the Beverend Dr. Shovel. I am sure that Peter the
Hermit, or St. Bernard, must have had such a voice. While he
spoke, though the words were not noble, the air was such, the voice
was such, the eloquence was such, that my senses were carried away,
and I felt that in the hands of such a man no one was master of
himself. His demeanour was so majestic, that even the shabby,
dirty room in which he spoke became for the time a temple fit for
the sacred rites conducted by so great and good a man : the noise
of carts, the voices of men and women, were drowned and stilled
beneath the rolling music of his voice. I was rapt and astonished
and terrified.

Mrs. Gambit was so far impressed when the Doctor began this
oration, that she instantly assumed that attitude of mind and body
in which country people always listen to a sermon : that is to say,
she stood with her chin up, her eyes fixed on the ceiling (fie! how
black it was !), her hands crossed, and her thoughts wandering freely
whithersoever they listed. It is a practice which sometimes produces
good effects, save when the preacher, which is seldom, hath in his
own mind a clear message to deliver from the Bevealed Word. For
it prevents a congregation from discerning the poverty of the die-

A FLEET WEDDING. 41

course ; and in these latter days of Whitfield, Wesley, and the sad
schisms which daily we witness, it checks the progress of Dissent.

The Doctor, after a short pause, swept back his flowing gown with
a significant gesture of his left hand, and resumed the defence or
apology for his profession. It was remarkable that he spoke as
earnestly, and with as much force, eloquence, and justness in this
address to two women — or to one and a half, because Mrs. Gambit,
thinking herself in church, was only half a listener — as if he had
been addressing a great congregation beneath the vast dome of St.
Paul's. The Doctor, I afterwards found, was always great ; no mean
or little ways were his : he lived, he spoke, he moved, he thought
like a bishop. Had he been actually a bishop, I am sure that his
stateliness, dignity, and pomp would have been worthy of that
exalted position, and that he would have graced the bench by the
exhibition of every Christian virtue, except perhaps that of meek-
ness, for the Doctor was never meek.

'Let us,' said the Doctor, 'argue the question. What is there
contrary to the Rubric in my calling? The Church hath wisely
ordered that marriage is a state to be entered upon only after sancti-
fication by her ministers or priests ; I am one of those ministers.
She hath provided and strictly enjoined a rule of service ; I read
that service. She hath recommended the faithful to marry as if to
enter a holy and blessed condition of life ; I encourage and exhort
the people to come to me with the design of obeying the Church and
entering upon that condition. She hath, in deference to the laws of
the land, required a stamped certificate (at five shillings) ; I find
that certificate in obedience to the law. Further, for the credit of
the cloth, and because people must not think the ministers of the
Church to be, like common hackney coachmen, messengers, running
lackeys, and such varlets, at the beck and call of every prentice boy
and ragamuffin wench with a yard-measure snd a dishclout for all
their fortune ; and because, further, it is well to remind people of
thrift, especially this common people of London, who are grievously
given to waste, prodigality, gluttony, fine clothes, drinking, and all
such extravagances — nay, how except by thrift will they find money
to pay their lawful tithes to Mother Church 1 — wherefore it is my
custom — nay, my undeviating rule — to charge a fee of one guinea at
least for every pair, with half-a-crown for the services of the clerk.
More may be given ; more, I say, is generally given by those who
have money in pocket, and generous, grateful hearts. What, indeed,
is a present of ten guineas in return for such services as mine?
Child, know that I am a public benefactor ; behold in me one who
promotes the happiness of his species ; but for me maids would
languish, levers groan, and cruel guardians triumph. I ask not if
there be any impediment ; I inauire not if there be some to forbid
the banns ; I do not concern myself with the lover's rent-roll ; I
care not what his profession — I have even married a lady to her
footman, since she desired it, and a nobleman to hia cook, since that

42 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

was his lordship's •will. I ask not for consent of parents; tlia
maiden leaves my doors a wife : when she goes home, no parents or
guardians can undo the knot that I have tied. Doctors, learned in
theology, casuistry, science, and philosophy, have been called by
divers names ; there have been the Subtle Doctor, the Golden
Doctor, the Eloquent Doctor. For me there has been reserved the
title of the Benevolent Doctor ; of me let it be said that he loved
even beyond his respect towards his diocesan, even beyond obedience
to his ecclesiastical superiors, even beyond consideration to the
parish clergy, who by his means were deprived of their fees, the
happiness of his fellow men and women.'

His voice had dropped to the lower notes, and his last words were
spoken in deep but gentle thunder. When he had finished, Mrs.
Gambit dropped her chin and returned to practical business.

' And pray, sir, what will Miss Kitty do V

Recalled to the facts of the case, the Doctor paused. His cheeks
retracted, his breadth and height became perceptibly smaller.

' What will she do ? That is, indeed, a difficulty.'

' If,' said Mrs. Gambit, ' your honour is a prisoner '

'Woman!' he roared, 'I enjoy the Liberties of the Fleet— the
Liberties, do you hear % Prate not to me of prisoners. Is Dr.
Shovel a man, think ye, to clap in a prison V

' Well, then, is Miss Kitty to live here V She looked round in dis-
gust. ' Why, what a place is this for a young lady virtuously and
godlily reared ! Your ceiling is black with smoke ; the windows are
black with dirt ; the walls are streaked with dirt ; the floor is as
thick with mud as the road — faugh ! If your honour is a bishop, as
you say you are, you can doubtless put the poor young lady, who is
used to sweet air and clean floors, where she will get such — and that
without profane swearing.'

The last remark was caused by language used at that moment
outside the window by a man wheeling a barrow full of cabbages,
which upset. While picking up the vegetables, he swore loudly,
administering rebuke in a couple of oaths at least, and in some cases
more, to every head of cabbage in turn. An unreflecting wretch
indeed, to break a commandment upon a senseless vegetable !

' Nay,' I said, ' my uncle will do what is best for me.'

' I will do for thee,' he said, ' what I can. This place is not fit
for a young girl. All the morning it is wanted for my occupation.
In the evening I am visited by gentlemen who seek me for certain
merits, graces, or beauties of conversation in which I am said
(although I boast not) to be endowed with gifts beyond those
allotted to most men. No, child, thou must not stay here.

While we stood waiting for hia decision, we became aware of a
most dreadful noise outside. Men were shouting, women were
screaming ; of course bad language and cursing formed a hivgc. part
of what was said. The air about the Fleet was always heavy with
oaths, so that at last the ear grew accustomed to them, and we

A FLEET WEDDING. 43

noticed them no more than in the quiet fields one notices the buzzing
of the insects. But these people, whoever they were, congregated
outside the door of the house ; and after more oaths and loud talk",
the door was opened and they all tramped noisily into the room — a
party of men and women, twelve in all — and drew up in some sort
of order, every man leading a woman by the hand. As for the men,
though I had never seen the sea, I knew at once that monsters so
uncouth and rough could be none other than sailors. They were all
dressed alike, and wore blue jackets with flannel shirts and coloured
silk neckties : every man carried round his waist a rope, at the end
of which was a knife ; they wore three-cornered hats without hire
or any kind of trimming ; they had no wigs, but wore their own
hair plastered with tallow, rolled up tightly and tied behind ; and one
bore a great and grisly beard most terrible to behold. Great boots
covered their feet ; their hands were smeared with tar ; their faces
were weather-beaten, being burnt by the sun and blown by the
breeze ; their eyes were clear and bright, but their cheeks were
bruised as if they had been lighting : they were all laughing, and
their countenances betokened the greatest satisfaction with every-
thing. As for the women, they were young, and some of them, 1
suppose, were handsome, but they looked bold and rough. They
were very finely dressed, their frocks being of silk and satin, with
flowered shawls, and hats of a grandeur I had never before seen ;
immense hoops and great patches. But the tight outside had torn
their finery, and more than one nymph had a black eye. However,
these accidents had not diminished the general joy, and they were
laughing with the men.

' Why — why !' roared the Doctor, as he called them to attention
by banging the table with his fist, so that the windows rattled, the
women shrieked, and the plaster fell from the wall. ' What is this 1
Who are ye V

The impudent fellow with the white apron who had brought us to
the place, here stepped in, bringing with him another couple. He.
too, had been fighting, for his face wsm bleeding and bruised.
Fighting, I presently found, was too common in Fleet Market to
call for any notice.

' What is this, Boger V repeated the Doctor. ' These tarpaulins
are no cattle for my handling. Let them go to the Pen and Hand,
or some other pigsty where they can be irregularly and illegally
married for eighteenpence and a glass of rum.'

' Please your reverence,' said Boger, handling his nose, which was
swollen, tenderly, 'they are honest gentlemen of the sea, paid off at
Wapping but yesternight, still in their sea-going clothes by reason
of their having as yet no time to buy long-shore rigging ; not com-
mon sailors, but mates by rating in the ship's books, and anxious to
be married by none other than your reverence.'

' Ay— ay ! honest Boger.' The Doctor's voice dropped and became
soft and encouraging. 'Ay— ay! this is as it should be. Know they
of the fee V

44 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

' They wish me to offer your reverence,' said the clerk, ' a guinea
apiece, and five guineas extra for your honour's trouble, if so be so
small a gift is worth your acceptance ; with half-a-crown apiece for
the clerk, and a guinea for his nose, which I verily believe is broken
in the bridge. 1 have had great trouble, your reverence, in convey-
ing so large a party safe. And indeed I thought, at one time, the
Eev. Mr. Arkwell would have had them all. But the gallant
gentlemen knew what was best for them ; and so, your honour,

with a nose '

The Doctor shook his head and interrupted any further explana-
tion.

' That would indeed have been a misfortune for these brave
fellows. Come, Eoger, collect the fees, and to business with what
speed we may.'

' Now then,' said Eoger, roughly, ' money first, business after-
wards. No fee, no marriage. Pay up, my lads !'

The men lugged out handfuls of gold from their pockets, and
paid without hesitation what they were told. But the women
grumbled, saying that for half-a-crown and a dram they would have
been married quite as well, and so much more to spend. When the
Doctor had put the fees in his pocket, he advanced to the table and
took up the Prayer-book. "What would my father have said had he
witnessed this sight ?

Then Eoger pulled out his greasy book, and put himself in place
ready to say the responses. All being ready, the Doctor again
banged the table with his fist so that they all jumped, and the
women screamed again, and more plaster fell off the wall.

' Now, all of you !' he roared, ' listen to me. The first man who
interrupts, the first woman who laughs, the first who giggles, the
first who dares to misbehave or to bring contempt on this religious
ceremony, I will with my own clerical hands pitch headforemost
into the street. And he shall remain tinmarried /'

Whether they were awed by his great voice and terrible aspect,
the men being short of stature as all sailors seem to be, or whether
they feared to be pitched through the window, or whether they
trembled at the prospect of remaining unmarried (perhaps for life)
if the Doctor refused to perform the ceremony, I know not. What
is quite certain is that they one and all, men and women, became
suddenly as mute as mice, and perfectly obedient to the commands
of Eoger the clerk, who told them where to stand, when to kneel,
what to say, and what to do. A curtain ring acted as weddiDg-riug
for all.

The Doctor would omit nothing from the service, which he read
from beginning to end in his loud musical voice. When he had
married the whole six, he shut the Prayer-book, produced six
stamped certificates, rapidly filled in the names and dates, which he
also entered in his ' Begister,' a great book with parchment cover.
Eoger acted as witness. Then the brides were Presented by the

A FLEET WEDDING. 45

Doctor with the certificates of their marriage. The ceremony lasted
altogether about half-an-hour.

' You are now, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, smiling pleasantly,
'married fast and firm, one to the other. I congratulate you.
Marriage in the case of sailors and sailors' wives is a condition of
peculiar happiness, as you will all of you presently discover. The
husband, at the outset, is liable for the debts of his wife ' — here the
men looked sheepishly at each other — ' this no doubt will be brought
home to all of you. There are several brave gentlemen of the sea
now languishing in the Fleet Prison through inability to pay off
these encumbrances. They will continue to lie there for the whole
term of their lives, these unfortunate men. Husbands are also liable
for the debts incurred by their wives while they aie abroad '—here
one or two of the men murmured something about London Port and
giving it a wide berth, which I did not understand. ' As for the
wives of seafaring men, their blessings and privileges are also
peculiar and numerous. They will have to remain at home and pray
for the safety of the husbands whom they will see perhaps once
every five years or so : they will, in this widowed state, be able to
practise many Christian virtues which those who enjoy the constant
presence of a husband are less often called upon to illustrate : such
are patience under privation, resignation, and hope. Most of them
will find the allowance made to them by their husbands insufficient
or irregularly paid. If any of them marry again, or be already
married, it is, let me tell you, a hanging matter. Yea, there are
already in Newgate hard by, several unfortunate women cast for
execution who have married again while their husbands were at sea.
Lying in the cells they are, waiting for the cart and the gallows !'
Here the women looked at one another and trembled, while their
cheeks grew pale. ' It is too late now. Should there be any woman
here who has committed the crime of bigamy, let that woman know
that it is too late for aught but repentance. The gallows awaits her.
You are now therefore, my friends, bound to each other. I trust
and hope that these marriages have not been hastily or lightly entered
upon. You have heard the duties of husband to wife and wife to
husband, in the words of the service duly read to you by a clergyman
of the Church of England. Go now, perform those duties : be
bright and shining examples of temperance, fidelity, and virtue.
Should any man among you find that his marriage hath led him,
through such a cause as I have indicated, to the King's Bench, or the
Fleet, or the Compter ; should he have to exchange, against his will,
the free air of the sea for the confinement of a gaol, and the rolling
deck for the narrow courtyard ; should he see himself reduced
(having never learned any handicraft or trade) to starvation through
these liabilities of his wife, or should any woman among you have
hereafter to stand her trial for bigamy either for this work newly ac-
complished orfor any future crime of the same nature, it will then be
your comfort to reflect that you were not married by an irregular,

4 6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

self-constituted, self-styled Fleet parson, but by an ordained clergy-
man and a Doctor of Divinity. Wherefore, I wish you well. Now
go, less noisily than you came. But the noise I impute to your
ignorance, as not knowing the quality of the man into whose presence
you so rudely pushed. As for the marriage feast, see that you enjoy
it in moderation, Above all, let your liquors be good. To which
end — I speak it purely out of my benevolerjce and for the good of
head and stomach — you will find the rum at the Bishop Blaize cheap
and wholesome. Be not tempted to prefer the Bainbow or the Naked
Boy, where the liquor is deplorable ; and perhaps, in an hour or so,
I may look in and drink your healths. Roger, turn them out.'

They went away sheepish and crestfallen, who had come noisy and
triumphant. I was ashamed, thinking of my father, and yet lost in
wonder, looking at my uncle who had so easily tamed this savage crew.

' I am glad,' said the Doctor, when they had gone, ' that this chance
did not become the windfall of an irregular and unlicensed prac-
titioner. They cannot say that I warned them not. Well, let them
have their way. A few days more and the men will be afloat again,
all their money gone ; and the women '

' Will they starve, sir V I asked.

' I doubt it much,' he replied. ' Come, child, I have a thought of
a plan for thee. Follow me. And you, good woman, come with us
that you may see your charge in safety.'

The thing that I had seen was like a dream — the appearance of
the disorderly sailors and the women whom they married ; the words
of the service read solemnly in this unhallowed room ; the exaction
of the money beforehand ; the bleeding faces and marks of the
recent fight ; the exhortation of the Doctor ; the disappearance of
the actors ; the swollen nose, black eye, and the importance of the
clerk reading the responses — what strange place was this whereunto
I had been led ? One pitied, too, the poor fellows on whom Fate had
bestowed such wives. I thought, child as I was, how terrible must
be life encumbered with such women ! Womanlike, I was harder on
the women than the men Yet truly, women are what men make
them.

' Follow me, child.'

He led us out of the house, turning to the right. In the market
was a lot o»f country people who were standing about a stall. And
we heard a voice : 6 There's the Doctor — there goes the great Dr.
Shovel.'

My uncle drew himself up to his full height, and stalked grandly
along with the eyes of the people upon him. ' See,' he seemed to
say, by the swelling folds of his gown, ' see my fame, how widespread
it is — my reputation, how great !'

He stopped at the corner of Fleet Lane, where the houses were no
longer taverns, and announcements of marriages were no longer to
be seen. It was a house of three stories high, with a door which,
like all the doors in that neighbourhood, stood ever open.

A FLEET WEDDING. V

Here the Doctor stopped and addressed Mis. Gambit :

' You spoke of safety. I am about to confide this child to the
care of two gentlewomen, pour, lmt of good birth ami character,
whom unjust laws and the wickedness of men have condemned to
imprisonment. I know of no better guardians ; but you shall satisfy
yourself before you go away. Wait a moment while I confer willi
the ladies.'

We stayed below for ten minutes. Then my uncle came down file
stairs, and bade me return with him to lie presented to the ladies,
who had kindly accepted the charge on condition, he said, of my
good conduct.

I followed him, Mrs. Gambit keeping close to me. We slopped at
a door on the first floor. The room was poor ami .shabby : the furni-
ture, of which there was not much, was old and worn : there was no
carpet: a white blind was half drawn over the window : the place,
to judge by the presence of a saucepan, a kettle, ami a gridiron, was
apparently a kitchen as well as a sitting-room : all, except a great
portrait of a gentleman, in majestic wig and splendid gown, which
hung over the fireplace, was mean and pinched. Two ladies, of fifty
or thereabouts, stood before me, holding out hands of welcome.

They were both exactly alike, being small and thin, with hollow
cheeks, bright eyes, and pointed features like a pair of birds : they
wore white caps, a sort of grey frock in cheap stuff: their hair was
white : their hands were thin, with delicate fingers, transparent like
the fingers of those who have been long in bed with sickness : they
were of the same height, and appeared to be of the same age —
namely, fifty or thereabouts. My first thought, as I looked at them,
was that they had not enough to eat — which, indeed, like all first
thoughts, was correct, because that had generally been the case with
these poor creatures.

' Kitty,' said the Doctor, taking me by the hand, ' I present you to
Mrs. Esther Pimpernel ' — here the lady on the left dipped and curt-
sied, and I also, mighty grave — 'and to Mrs. Deborah Pimpernel'
— here the same ceremony with the lady on the right. ' Ladies, this
is my niece Kitty Pleydeil, daughter of my deceased sister Barbara
and her husband Lawrence Pleydeil of pious memory. I trust that
in consenting thus generously to receive this child in your ward and
keeping, you will find a reward for your benevolence in her obedience,
docility and gratitude.'

'Doctor,' murmured Mrs. Esther, in a voice like a turtledove's
for softness, ' I am sure that a niece of yours must be all sensibility
and goodness.'

' Goodness, at least,' said her sister, in sharper tones.

I saw that the difference between the sisters lay chiefly in their
voices.

'She will, I trust, be serviceable to you,' said the Doctor, waving
his hand. ' She hath been well and piously brought up to obedient
ways. Under your care, ladies, I look for a good account of her.'

48 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Dear and reverend sir,' Mrs. Esther cooed, ' we are pleased and
happy to be of use to you in this matter. No doubt little miss,
who is well grown of her years, will repay your kindness with her
prayers. As for us, the memory of your past and present goodness '

' Tut, tut !' he replied, shaking his great head till his cheeks
waggled, ' let us hear no more of that. In this place ' — here he
laid his right hand upon his heart, elevating his left, and leaning
his head to one side — 'in this place, where infamy and well-de-
served misery attend most of those who dwell in it, it is yours, as
it should be mine, to keep burning continually the pure flame of a
Christian life.'

' How sweet ! how noble !' murmured the sisters.

"Was it possible 1 The man whom we had just seen reading the
service of Mother Church, which my father had taught me to re-
gard as little less sacred than the words of the Bible itself, in a
squalid room, reeking with the fumes of rum and stale tobacco,
before a gang of half-drunken sailors, assumed naturally and easily,
as if it belonged to kirn, the attitude and language of one devoted
entirely to the contemplation and practice of virtue and good works.
Why, his face glowed with goodness like the sun at noonday, or the
sun after a shower, or, say, the sun after a good action. The Doctor,
indeed, as I learned later, could assume almost any character he
pleased. It pleased him, not out of hypocrisy, but because for a
time it was a return to the promise of his youth, to be with these
ladies the devout Christian priest. In that character he felt, I am
convinced, the words which came spontaneously to his lips : for the
moment he was that character. Outside, in the Fleet Market, he
was the great Dr. Shovel — great, because among the Fleet parsons
he was the most successful, the most learned, the most eloquent, the
most important. In his own room he married all comers, after the
manner we have seen ; and it raised the envy of his rivals to see
how the crowd flocked to him. But in the evening he received his
friends, and drank and talked with them in such fashion as I never
saw, but of which I have heard. Again, it raised their envy to
witness how men came from all quarters to drink with the Doctor.
At that time he was no longer the Christian advocate, nor the clergy-
man ; he was a rollicking, jovial, boon companion, who delighted to
tell better stories, sing better songs, and hold better talk— meaning
more witty, not more spiritual talk — than any of those who sat
with him. I have never been able to comprehend what pleasure
men, especially men of mature years, can find in telling stories, and
laughing, drinking, smoking tobacco, and singing with one another.
"Women find their pleasures in more sober guise : they may lie in
small things, but they are innocent. Think what this world would
be were the women to live like the men, as disorderly, as wastef ully,
as noisily !

' Now, good woman,' said my uncle to Mrs. Gambit, ' are j r ou
satisfied that my niece is in safe hands V

A FLEET WEDDING. 49

' The hands are good enough,' replied the woman, looking round
her ; ' but the place '

' The place is what it is,' said the Doctor, sharply ; ' we cannot
alter the place.'

' Then I will go, sir.'

With that she gave me my parcel of money, kissed me and bade
me farewell, curtsied to the ladies, and left us.

' I shall send up, ladies,' said the Doctor, ' a few trifles of addi-
tional furniture : a couple of chairs, one of them an arm-chair —
but not for this great, strong girl, if you please — a bed, a shelf for
books ; some cups and saucers we shall provide for you. And now,
ladies, I wish you good- morning. And for your present wants — I
mean the wants of this hungry country maid, who looks as if
mutton hung in toothsome legs on every verdant hedge — this will,
I think, suffice ;' he placed money in Mrs. Esther's hand — I could
not but think how he had earned that money — and left us.

When he was gone the two ladies looked at each other with a
strange, sad, and wistful expression, and Mrs. Esther, with the
guineas in her hand, burst into tears.

CHAPTER VL

HOW KITTY BEGAN TO ENJOY THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET.

Her tears disconcerted me extremely. What did she cry for 1 But
she presently recovered and dried her eyes. Then she looked at me
thoughtfully, and said :

' Sister, I suppose this child has been accustomed to have a dinner
;very day V

' Surely,' replied Mrs. Deborah. ' And to-day we shall dine.'

To-day we should all dine ? Were there, then, days when we
should all go hungry 1

' You must know, my dear,' Mrs. Esther explained in a soft, sad
^oice, ' that we are very poor. We have, therefore, on many days
n the week to go without meat. Otherwise we should have to do
vorse'— she looked round the soom and shuddered— -'we should
lave to give up the independence of our solitude. Hunger, my
:hild, is not the worst thing to bear.'

' A piece of roasting-beef, sister,' said Mrs. Deborah, who had
low assumed a hat and a cloak, ' with a summer cabbage, and a
mdding in the gravy.'

'And I think, sister,' said Mrs. Esther, her eyes lighting up
:agerly, ' that we might take our dinner — the child might like to
ake her dinner — at twelve to-day.'

While Mrs. Deborah went into the market, I learned that the

4

5o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

two sisters had taken no food except bread and water for a week,
and that their whole stock now amounted to two shillings in money
and part of a loaf. What a strange world was this of London, in
which gentlewomen had their lodging in so foul a place and starved
on bread and water !

' But/ she repeated with a wan smile, ' there are worse things
than hunger. First, we must pay our rent. And here we are at
least alone ; here we may continue to remember our breeding/

Before Mrs. Deborah returned, I also learned that they were
chiefly dependent on a cousin for supplies of money, which were
made to them grudgingly (and indeed he was not rich), and that the
Doctor had provided for my/maintenauce with the offer of so large
a weekly sum that it promised to suffice for the wants of all.

' We are, 1 said Mrs. Esther, ' but small eaters ; a little will suffice
for us. But you, child, are young ; eat without fear, eat your fill ;
the money is for you, and we shall grudge you nothing.'

While the beef was roasting I noticed how their eyes from time
to time, in spite of themselves, would be fixed upon the meat with
a hungry and eager look. Nor had I any enjoyment of the meal
till I had seen their pangs appeased. After the plenty of the
Vicarage and the Hall, to think of bread and water, and not too
much bread, for days together ! Yet, hungry as they were, they
ate but little ; it shamed me to go on eating, being always a girl of
a vigorous appetite and hard-set about the hour of noon ; it shamed
me at first, also, to observe their ways of thrift, so that not the
least crumb should be wasted. Mrs. Deborah read my thoughts.

' In this place,' she said, ' we learn to value what it takes money
to procure. Yet there are some here poorer than ourselves. Eat,
child, eat. For us this has been, indeed, a feast of Belteshazzar.'

Dinner over, we unpacked my box, and they asked me questions.
I found that they were proud of their birth and breeding; the
portrait over the fire was, they told me, that of their father, once
Lord Mayor of London, and they congratulated me upon being
myself a Pleydell, which, they said, was a name very well known
in the country, although many great city families might be ignorant
of it.

' No gift, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, ' is so precious as gentle
blood. Everything else may be won, but birth never.'

All day long there went on the same dreadful noise of shouting,
crying, calling, bawling, rolling of carts, cracking of whips, and
trampling of horses' feet. In the evening I asked, when the sun
went down, but the noise decreased not, if it was always thus.

' Always,' they replied. ' There is no cessation, day'or night. It
is part,' said Mrs. Deborah, ' of our punishment. ' We are con-
demned, child ; for the sin of having a negligent trustee, we go in
captivity, shame, and degradation all our lives.'

' Nay,' said her sister, ' not degradation, sister. No one but her-
self can degrade a gentlewoman.'

THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET. 51

Truly, the noise was terrible. When I read in the ' Paradise
Lost,' of fallen angels in their dark abode, I think of Fleet Market
and the Fleet Eules. It began in the early morning with the roll-
ing of the carts : all day long in the market there was a continual
crying of the butchers : ' Buy, buy, ladies — buy ! Eally up, ladies
—rally up !' There were quarrels unceasing and ever beginning,
with fights, shouting and cursing : the fish-women quarrelled at
their stalls ; the poultry-wives quarrelled over their baskets ; the
porters quarrelled over their burdens ; the carters over the right
of way : the ragamuffin boys over stolen fruit. There was nothing
pleasant, nothing quiet, nothing to refresh ; nothing but noise,
brawling, and contention. And if any signs of joy, these only
drunken laughter from open tavern-doors.

Thus I began to live, being then a maid of sixteen years and seven
months, in the Eules and Liberties of the Fleet Prison ; surely as
bad a place, outside Newgate Prison, as could be found for a girl
brought up in innocence and virtue. For, let one consider the situ-
ation of the Eules. They include all those houses which lie between
the ditch, or rather the market, on the west, and the Old Bailey on
the east — fit boundaries for such a place, the filthy turbid ditch and
the criminal's gaol — and Fleet Lane on the north to Ludgate Hill
on the south. These streets are beyond and between the abodes of
respectability and industry. On the east was the great and wealthy
City with the merchants' houses ; on the west the streets and squares
where the families of the country had their town residence ; on the
south, the river ; on the north, the dark and gloomy streets of
Clerkenwell, where thieves lay in hiding and the robbers of the road
had their customary quarters. Why, Jonathan Wyld himself, the
greatest of villains, lived hard by in Ship Court. Is there, any-
where, in any town, an acre more thickly covered with infamy,
misery, starvation, and wretchedness 1

If we walked abroad, we could not go north because of Clerken-
well, where no honest woman may trust herself : if we went south
we had to walk the whole length of the market, past the marrying
taverns, so that shame fell upon my heart to think how my uncle
was one of those who thus disgraced his cloth : when we got to the
end, we might walk over the Fleet Bridge, among the noisy sd'ers
of quack medicines, pills, powders, hot furmety, pies, flounders,
mackerel, and oysters ; or on Ludgate Hill, where the touts of the
Fleet parsons ran up and down, inviting couples to be married, and
the Morocco men went about, book in hand, to sell their lottery
shares. The most quiet way when we took the air was to cross
Holborn Bridge, and so up the hill past St. Andrew's Church, where,
if the weather were fine, we might go as far as the gardens of Gray's
Inn, and there sit down among the trees and feel for a little the joy
of silence.

Said Mrs. Deborah, one day, when we two had sat there, under
the trees, for half an hour, listening to the cawing of the rooks :

4—2

52 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Child, the place ' — meaning the Eules — ' is the City of Destmc*
tion after Christian and Christiana, and the boys, and Mercy, were
all gone away.'

We lived in one room, which was both kitchen and parlour. We
had no servant ; the Doctor's provision kept us in simple plenty ; we
cleaned and dusted the place for ourselves ; we cooked our dinners,
and washed our dishes ; we made our dresses ; we did for ourselves
all those things which are generally done by a servant. Mrs. Esther
said that there was no shame in doing things which, if left undone,
would cause a gentlewoman to lose her self-respect. 'Twas all, except
the portrait of her father, that she had left of her former life, and to
this she would cling as something dearer than life.

There were other lodgers in the house. All who lodged there were,
of course, prisoners ' enjoying ' the Eules — who else would live in the
place ? On the ground-floor was Sir Miles Lackington, Baronet. He
was not yet thirty, yet he had already got rid of a great and noble
estate by means of gambling, and now was compelled to hide his
head in this refuge, and to live upon an allowance of two guineas
made weekly to him by a cousin. This, one would have thought,
was a disgrace enough to overwhelm a gentleman of his rank and
age with shame. But it touched him not, for he was ever gay, cheerful,
and ready to laugh. He was kind to my ladies and to me ; his
manners, when he was sober, were gentle ; though his face was always
flushed and cheeks swollen by reason of his midnight potations, he
was still a handsome fellow ; he was careless of his appearance as
of his fortune ; he would go with waistcoat unbuttoned, wig awry,
neckcloth loose, ruffles limp ; but however he went it was with a
laugh. When he received his two guineas he generally gave away
the half among his friends. In the evening they used to carry him
home to his room on the ground-floor, too drunk to stand.

I soon got to know him, and we had frequent talks. He seemed
to be ever meeting me on the stairs when I went a-marketing ; he
called upon us often, and would sit with me during the warm summer
afternoons, when the sisters dropped off to sleep. I grew to like him,
and he encouraged me to say freely what I thought, even to the
extent of rating him for his profligate practices.

' Why,' he would say, laughing, ' I am at the lowest — I can go no
lower ; yet I have my two guineas a week. I have enough to eat,
I drink freely : what more can I want V
I told him what his life seemed to me.
He laughed again at this, but perhaps uneasily.
' Does it seem so terrible a thing,' he said, leaning against the
window with his hands in his pockets, ' to have no cares? Believe
me, Kitty, Fortune has brought me into a harbour where winds and
tempests never blow. While I had my estate, my conscience plagued
me night and morning. And yet I'knew that all this must fly.
Hazard doth always serve her children so, and leaves them naked.
Well— it is gone. So can I play no more. But he who plays should

THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 53

keep sober if he 'would win. Now that I cannot play, I may drink.
And again, when, formerly, I was rich and a prodigal, friend and
enemy came to me with advice. I believe they thought the Book
of Proverbs had been written specially to meet my case, so much
did they quote the words of Solomon, Agar, and Lemuel. But, no
doubt, there have been fools before, and truly it helpeth a fool no
whit to show him his folly. " As a thorn goeth up into the hand
of a drunkard, so is a parable in the mouth of fools." I remember
that proverb. Now that Hazard hath taken all, there is no longer
occasion for advice. Child, you look upon one who hath thrown
away his life, and yet is happier in his fall and repents not. For I
make no doubt but that, had I my fortune back, 'twould fly away
again in the same fashion.'

He concluded with an allusion to the Enemy of Mankind, for
which I rebuked him, and he laughed, saying :
' Pretty Puritan, I will offend no more.'

Had I been older and more experienced, I should have known or
suspected why he came so often and met me daily. Kitty had found
favour in the sight of this dethroned king. He loved the maid : her
freshness, her rosy cheeks, her youth, her innocence pleased him,
I suppose. We know not, we women, for what qualities there are
in us that we are loved by men, so that they will commit so many
follies for our sake.

' Thou art such a girl, sweet Kitty,' be said to me, one day, ' so
pretty and so good, as would tempt a man wallowing contentedly in
the pigsties of the world, to get up, wash himself, and go cleanly,
for thy sake. Yet what a miserable wretch should I be did I thus
learn to feel my own downfall !'

And again he told me once that he was too far gone to love me ;
and not far enough gone to do me an injury.

' Wherefore,' he added, ' I must worship at thy shrine in silent
admiration.'

It was kindly done of Sir Miles to spare an ignorant girl. For
so ignorant was Kitty, and so brotherly did he seem, that had he
asked her to become his wife, I think she would have consented.
Oh, the fine state, to be my Lady Lackington, and to live in the
Bules of the Fleet !

Another lodger in our house, a man whose face inspired me with
horror, so full of selfish passion was it, was a Captain Dunquerqne.
With him were his wife and children. It was of the children, poor
things, that our Esther spoke when she said there were some in the
place poorer than themselves ; for the wife and children starved,
while the captain, their father, ate and drank his fill. A gloomy,
man, as well as selfish, who reviled the fate which he had brought
upon himself. Yet for all his reviling, he spared himself nothing so
that his children might have something. I am glad that this bad
man has little to do with my history. Another lodgei-, who had the
garret at the top, was Solomon Stallabras, the poet.

54 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

It is very well known that the profession of letters, of all the
trades, callings, and conditions of men, is the most precarious and
the most miserable. I doubt, indeed, whether that ought to be
called a profession which requires no training, no colleges or schools,
no degree, and no diploma. Other professions are, in a way, inde«
pendent : the barrister doth not court, though he may depend upon,
the favour of attorneys ; the rector of the parish doth not ask the
farmers to support him, but takes the tithes to which he is entitled ;
the poor author, however, is obliged to receive of his publisher
whatever is offered, nor is there any corporate body or guild of
authors by whom the situation of the poet may be considered and
his condition improved . Alone among learned men, the author is
doomed to perpetual dependence and poverty. Indeed, when one
considers it, scarce anything else is to be expected, for, in becoming
an author, a man is so vain as to expect that to him will be granted
what has been given to no man except Shakespeare — a continual
flow of strength, spirits, ingenuity, wit, and dexterity, so as to sus-
tain, without diminution or relaxation, the rapid production of
works for the delight of the world. I say rapid, because the books
are bought by publishers at a low rate, though they are sold to the
public at large sums. And, if we think of it, scarce any author
produces more than one or two books which please the world.
Therefore, when the fountain runs dry, whither is that poor author
to turn 1 The public will have none of him ; his publisher will have
none of him ; there remains, it is true, one hope, and that unworthy,
to get subscriptions for a volume which he will never produce, be-
cause he will have eaten up beforehand the money paid for it before
it is written.

The Fleet Prison and its Rules have ahvays been a favourite
resort and refuge for poets and men of letters. Eobert Lloyd died
there, but long after I went away ; Richard Savage died there ;
Churchill was married in the place, and would have died there, had
he not anticipated his certain fate by dying early ; Samuel Boyce
died there ; Sir Eichard Baker died there ; William Oldys, who
died, to be sure, outside the Rules, yet drank every night -within
them ; lastly, within a stone's throw of the Rules, though he was
never a prisoner, died the great John Bunyan himself.

I heard my ladies, from time to time, talk of a certain Mr. Stalla-
bras. They wondered why he did not call as usual, and laid the
blame upon me ; little madam had made him shy. One day, how-
ever, Mrs. Esther being called out by one of Captain Dunquerque's
children, came back presently, saying that Mr. Stallabras was
starving to death in his room.

Mrs. Deborah made no reply, but instantly hurried to the cup-
board, when she took down the cold beef which was to be our
dinner, and cut off three or four goodly slices ; these she laid on a
plate, with bread and salt, and put the whole upon a napkin, and
then she disappeared swiftly.

THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 55

"The poor young man ! the dear young man !' cried Mrs. Esther,
wringing her hands. 'What can we do? My deai*, the sweetest
and most mellifluous of poets ! The pride and glory of his age !
It was he who wrote "Hours of the Night," the "Pleasures of
Solitude," the "Loves of Ainoret and Amoretta," and other delight-
ful verses ; yet they let him languish in the Fleet ! What are my
countrymen thinking of 1 Would it not be better to rescue (while
still living) so ingenious and charming a writer from his poverty,
than to give him (as they must), after his death, a grave in West-
minster Abbey V

I asked her if we should read together these delightful poems.

'We have no copy,' she said. 'Mr. Stallabras, who is all sensi-
bility, insists, from time to time, upon our having copies, so that we
may read them aloud to him. Yet his necessities are such that lie
is fain to take them away again and sell them. As for his manners,
my clear, they are very line, being such as to confer distinction upon
the Eules. He has not the easy bearing of Sir Miles Lackington, of
course, which one would not expect save in a man born to good
breeding; but he possesses in full measure the courtesy which comes
from study and self-dignity. Yet he is but a hosier's son.'

Mrs. Deborah here returned, bearing an empty plate.

She had trouble at first, she said, to persuade him to eat. His
prejudices as a gentleman and a scholar were offended by the absence
of horse-radish ; but, as he had eaten nothing for two days, he was
induced to waive this scruple, and presently made a hearty meal.
She had also persuaded him to come downstairs in the evening, and
take a dish of tea.

Thanks to the Doctor's liberality in the matter of my weekly
board, tea was now a luxury in which we could sometimes indulge.
Nothing gave Mrs. Esther more gratification than the return, after
long deprivation, to that polite beverage.

At about five o'clock the poet made his appearance. He was short
of stature, with a turned-up nose, and was dressed in a drab-coloured
coat, with bag-wig, and shoes with steel buckles. Everything that
he wore had once been fine, but their splendour was faded now ; his
linen was in rags, his shoes in holes ; but he carried himself with
pride. His dignity did not depend upon his purse ; he bore his
head high, because he thought of his fame. It inflicted no wound
to his pride to remember that he bad that day been on the eve of
starvation, and was still without a farthing.

' Miss Kitty,' he said, bowing very low, 'you see before } r ou one
who, though a favourite of the Muses, is no favourite of Fortune :

' " 'Gainst hostile fate his heart is calm the while,
Though Fortune frown, the tuneful sisters smile."

Poetry, ladies, brings with it the truest consolation.'
' And religion ' said Mrs. Esther.

56 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' There lives not — be sure — the wretch,' cried the poet, ' who
would dissociate religion and the Muse.'

This was very grand, and pleased us all. We had our dish of tea,
with bread and butter. I went on cutting it for the poet till the
loaf was quite gone.

During the evening he gave utterance to many noble sentimenta
— so noble, indeed, that they seemed to me taken out of books.
And before he went away he laid down his views as to the profes-
sion of letters, of which J. have already spoken, perhaps, too
severely.

' It is the mission of the poet and author,' he said, ' to delight,
and to improve while delighting. The man of science may instruct ;
the poet embodies the knowledge, and dresses it up in a captivating
way to attract the people : the divine teaches the dogmas of the
Church ; the poet conveys, in more pleasing form, the lessons and
instructions of religion : the philosopher and moralist lay down the
laws of our being ; the author, by tropes and figures, by tiction, by
poetry, shows the proper conduct of life, and teaches how the way
of virtue leads to happiness. Is not this a noble and elevating
career ? Does not a man do well who says to himself, " This shall
be my life ; this my lot " V

He paused, and we murmured assent to his enthusiasm.

'It is true,' he went on, 'that the ungrateful world thinks little
of its best friends ; that it allows me — me, Solomon Stallabras, to
languish in the Rules of the Fleet. Even that, however, has its
consolation ; because, ladies, it has brought me the honour and
happiness of your friendship.'

He rose, saluted us all three in turn, and sat down again.

' Art,' he went on, ' so inspires a man with great thoughts, that it
makes more than a gentleman — it makes a nobleman — of him.
Who, I would ask, when he reads the sorrows of Clarissa, thinks of
the trade— the mere mechanical trade — in which the author's money
was earned ? I cannot but believe that the time will come when
the Court itself, unfriendly as it now is to men of letters, will confer
titles and place upon that poor poet whose very name cannot now
reach the walls of the palace.'

My ladies' good fortune (I mean in receiving the weekly stipend
for my maintenance) was thus shared by the starving poet, whom
they no longer saw, helpless to relieve him, suffering the privation
of hunger. Often have I observed one or other of the sisters
willingly go without her dinner, pleading a headache, in order that
her portion might be reserved for Mr. Stallabras.

' For sensibility,' said Mrs. Esther, ' is like walking up a hill : it
promotes appetite.'

' So does youth,' said Mrs. Deborah, more practical. ' Mr. Stalla-
bras is still a young man, Kitty ; though you think thirty old.'

That he was a very great poet we all agreed, and the more so
when, after a lucky letter, he secured a subscriber or two for his

THE LIBERTIES OF THE FLEET 57

next volume, and was able to present us once more with a book of
his own poetry. I do not know whether he more enjoyed hearing
me read them aloud (for then he bowed, spread his hands, and
inclined his head this way and that, in appreciation of the melody
and delicacy of the sentiments), or whether he preferred to read
them himself ; for then he could stop when he pleased, with, 'This
idea, ladies, was conceived, while wandering amid the fields near
Bagnigge Wells ;' ' This came to me while watching the gay throng
in the Mall ;' ' This, I confess, was an inspiration caught in church.'

' Kitty should enter these confessions in a book,' said Mrs. Esther.
'Surely they will become valuable in the day — far distant, I trust-
when your life has to be written, Mr. Stallabras.'

'Oh, madam!' He bowed again, and lifted his hands in depre-
cation. But he was pleased. ' Perhaps,' he said, ' meaner bards
have found a place in the Abbey, and a volume dedicated to their
lives. If Miss Kitty will condescend to thus preserve recollections
of me, I shall be greatly flattered.'

I did keep a book, and entered in it all that dropped from his
lips about himself, his opinions, his maxims, his thoughts, and so
forth. He gradually got possessed of the idea that I would myself
some day write his life, and he began insensibly to direct his conver-
sation mainly to me.

Sometimes he met me in the mai'ket, or on the stairs, when he
would tell me more.

' I always knew,' he said, ' from the very first, that I was born to
greatness. It was in me as a child, when, like Pope, I lisped in
numbers. My station, originally, was not lofty, Miss Kitty.' He
spoke as if he had risen to a dazzling height. ' I was but the sou
of a hosier, born in Fetter Lane, and taught at the school, or
academy, kept by one Jacob Crooks, who was handier with the rod
than with the Gradus ad Parnassum. But I read, and taught
myself ; became at first the hack of Mr. Dodsley, and gradually
rose to eminence.'

He had, indeed, risen ; he was the occupant of a garret ; his fame
lay in his own imagination ; and he had not a guinea in the world.

' Miss Kitty,' he said, one day, ' there is only one thing that dis-
qualifies you from being my biographer.'

I asked him what that was.

' You are not, as you should be, my wife. If virtue and beauty
fitted you for the station of a poet's wife, the thing were easy.
Alas, child ! the poet is poor, and his mistress would be poorer.
Nevertheless, believe that the means, and not the will, are wanting
to make thee my Laura, my Stella, and me thy Petrarch, or thy
Sidney.'

It was not till later that I understood how this starveling poet, as
well as the broken baronet, had both expressed their desire (under
more favourable circumstances) to make love to me. Grand would
have been my lot as Lady Lackington, but grander still as Mistress

58 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

Stallabras, -wife of the illustrious poet, who lived, like the sparrows,
from hand to mouth.

CHAPTER VII.

HOW KITTY LEARNED TO KNOW THE DOCTOR.

Those evenings of riot from -which Sir Miles was so often carried
home speechless, were spent in no other place than that very room
where I had seen the marriage of the sailors ; and the president of
the rabble rout was no other than the Doctor himself,

I learned this of Sir Miles. If my ladies knew it, of which I am
not certain, they were content to shut their eyes to it, and to think
of the thing as one of the faults which women, in contempt and
pity, ascribe to the strange nature of man. I cannot, being now of
ripe years, believe that Heaven hath created m man a special
aptitude for debauchery, sin, and profligacy, while women have
been designed for the illustration of virtues which are the opposite
to them. So that, when I hear it said that it is the way of men, I
am apt to think that way sinful .

It was Sir Miles himself who told me of it one morning. I found
him leaning against the doorpost with a tankard of ale in his hand.

' "Fie, Sir Miles !' I said. 'Is it not shameful for a gentleman to
be carried home at night, like a pig V

'It is,' he replied. 'Kitty, the morning is the time for repent-
ance. I repent until I have cleared my brain with this draught of
cool October.'

' It is as if a man should drag a napkin in the mud of the Fleet
Ditch to clean it,' I said.

He drank off his tankard, and said he felt better.
'Pretty Miss Kitty,' he said, 'it is a fine morning; shall we
abroad ? Will you trust yourself with me to view the shops in
Cheapside or the beaux in the Mall 1 I am at thy service, though,
for a Norfolk baronet, my ruffles are of the shabbiest.'

I told him that I would ask Mrs. Esther for permission. He
said he wanted first a second pint, as the evening had been long and
the drink abundant, after which his brain would be perfectly clear
and his hand steady.

I told him it was a shame that a gentleman of his rank should
mate with men whose proper place was among the thieves of Turn-
mill Street, or the porters of Chick Lane, and that I would not
walk with a man whose brain required a quart of strong ale in the
morning to clear it.

'As for my companions,' he said, taking the second pint which
the boy brought him and turning it about in his hands, ' we have
very good company in the Liberties— quite as good as your friend

KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 59

Christian, in that story you love so much, might have had in Vanity
Pair, had he been a lad of mettle and a toper. There are gentlemen
of good family, like myself ; poets like Solomon Stallabras ; merchants,
half -pay captains and broke lieutenants ; clerks, tradesmen, lawyers,
parsons, farmers, men of all degrees. It is like the outside world,
except that here all are equal who can pay their shot. Why, with
the Doctor at the head of the table, and a bowl of punch just begun,
hang me if I know any place where a man may feel more comfort-
able or drink more at his ease.'

' The Doctor V I asked. Now I had seen so little of my uncle that
I had almost forgotten the marriage of the sailors, and was begin-
ning again to think of him as the pious and serious minister who
spoke of sacred things to my guardians. ' The Doctor?'

'Ay ;' Sir Miles drank off the whole of his second pint. 'Who
else V His voice became suddenly thick, and his eyes lixed, with a
strange light in them. ' Who else but the Doctor ? Why, what would
the Rules be without the Doctor? He is our prince, our bishop,
our chaplain — what you will — the right reverend his most gracious
majesty the King of the Rules.' Sir Miles waved his hand drama-
tically. ' He keeps us sweet ; he polishes our wits ; but for him we
should be wallowing swine : he brings strangers and visitors to en-
liven us ; drinks with us, sings with us, makes wit for us from the
treasures of his learning ; condescends to call us his friends ; pays
our shot for us ; lends us money ; gives food to the starving, and
drink — yes, drink, by gad ! to the thirsty, and clothes to the naked.
Ah, poor girl ! you can never see the Doctor in his glory, with all his
admirers round him, and every man a glass of punch in his hand
and a clean tobacco-pipe in his mouth. The Doctor ? he is our boast ;
a most complete and perfect doctor ; the pride of Cambridge ; the
crown and sum of all doctors in divinity !'

He had forgotten, I suppose, his invitation to take me for a walk,
for he left me here, staggering off in the direction of the Hand and
Pen, where, I doubt not, he spent the rest of his idle and wasted
day.

It would have been useless and cruel to talk to my guardian about
this discovery. It was another thing to be ashamed of. Sir Miles
told me less than the truth. In fact the Doctor's house was the
nightly resort of all those residents in the Rules whom he would
admit to his society. Hither, too, came, attracted by his reputation
for eloquence, wit, and curious knowledge, gentlemen from the
Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and other places, who were expected, as a
contribution to the evening, to send for bowls of punch. But of this
presently.

I saw my uncle seldom. He visited the sisters from time to time,
and never failed to ask particularly after my progress in knowledge,
and especially in the doctrines of the Church of England. On these
occasions he generally left behind him, as a present, some maxim or
precept tending to virtue, which we could repeat after his depailuro

6o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

and turn over in our minds at leisure. Once he found me alone,
Mrs. Deborah being indisposed and confined to her room, where
her sister was nursing her. He took advantage of their absence to
impress upon me the necessity of circumspection in my manner of
life.

' Heaven knows, child,' he said, ' what thy future will be. Hither
come none but profligates and spendthrifts. Yet what else can I
do with thee ? Where bestow thee V

' Oh, sir !' I said, ' let me not be taken from my dear ladies.'

' Thou shalt not, child ; at least for the present. But it is bad for
thee to live here ; it is bad for thee to have as an uncle one whose
life is sadly inconsistent with his Christian profession, and who might
despair, were it not for the example of Solomon (rnethinks from his
history maybe sucked consolation by all elderly and reverend sinners).
Like him, what I lack in practice I partly make up with precept.
He who, like me, is a Fleet parson, should be judged differently
from his fellows : he is without the license, and therefore hath for-
feited paternal affection of his bishop ; he is exposed to tempta-
tions which beset not other folk ; among those who flock to him for
marriage are some who would fain commute their fees for brandy
and strong drinks, or even bilk the clergyman altogether — a sin
which it is difficult to believe can be forgiven. Hence arise strifes
and wraths, unseemly for one who wears a cassock. Hither come
those who seek good fellowship and think to find it in the Eules :
Templars, young bloods, and wits. Hence arise drinking and brawl-
ing ; and as one is outside the law, so to speak, so one is tempted to
neglect the law. I say nothing of the temptations of an empty purse.
These I felt, with many prickings and instigations of the Evil One,
while I was yet curate of St. Martin's-in-the- Fields, before I escaped
my creditors by coming here. Then I was poor, and found, as the
Wise Man says, that " The poor is hated even of his own neighbour." '

He went on, half preaching, half talking.

A man who sinned greatly, yet preached much ; who daily fell,
yet daily exhorted his neighbour to stand upright ; who knew and
loved, as one loves a thing impossible to attain, the life of virtue ;
who drank, laughed, and bawled songs of an evening with his boon
companions ; who married all comers, no question asked, without
scruple and without remorse ; a priest whose life was a disgrace to
his profession ; who did kind and generous things, and paid that
homage to Virtue which becomes one who knows her loveliness.

It pleased him to talk, but only with me, about himself. He was
always excusing himself to me, ashamed of his life, yet boasting
of it and glorying in it ; conscious of his infamy, and yet proud
of his success ; always thinking by what plea he could justify him-
self, and maintain his self-respect.

' I am a man,' he said, ' who is the best of a bad profession.
My work is inglorious, but I am glorious ; my rivals, who would
rob me of my very practice, do not hate me, but esteem and envy

KITTY AND THE DOCTOR. 61

me. I have, yea, outside these Rules, friends who love me still ;
some of them pity me, and some would see me (which is impossible)
restored to the fold and bosom of the Church ; some who drink with
me, talk with me, borrow of me, walk with me, smoke with me, and
are honoured by my friendship. There is no man living who would
wish me harm. Surely, I am one of those who do good to themselves,
whom, therefore, their fellow-men respect.'

I have said that he was generous. Sir Miles spoke the truth when
he declared that the Doctor fed the starving and clothed the naked.
Truly it seems to me natural to believe that these good deeds of
his must be a set-off to the great wickedness of his life. There were
no occupants of the prison and its Liberties who were rich. Some
there were who would have starved but for the charity of their
friends. The poor prisoners were allowed to beg, but how could
poor gentlewomen like my guardians bear to beg for daily bread ?
Eather would they starve. As for the prison, I know nothing of
it ; I never saw the inside ; it was enough for me to see its long
and dreary wall. I used to think at night of the poor creatures
shut up there in hopeless misery, as I thought, though Sir Miles
declared that most of them were happier in the prison than out ;
and beside the latticed gate there stood every day a man behind bars
begging with a plate and crying : ' Pity the poor prisoners.'

Is it not sad that the same punishment of imprisonment must be
meted out to the rogue and the debtor, save that we let the rogue
go free while we keep the debtor locked up ? Truly, the Vicar of
St. Bride's or even the Dean of St. Paul's himself could preach no
better sermon, could use no words more fitted to arrest the profli-
gate and bring the thoughtless to reason, than that doleful cry
behind the bars. Nor could any more salutary lesson be impressed
upon young spendthrifts than to take them from house to house
in the Eules and show them the end of graceless ways.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME.

As soon as they were settled together, and the ladies had decided
in their own minds that the girl would lighten their lives, they
resolved that Kitty's education must not be neglected, and for this
end began to devise such a comprehensive scheme as would have
required the staff of a whole university to carry it through. Every-
thing was set down (upon a slate) which it behoved a girl to know.
Unfortunately the means at their disposal did not allow of this great
scheme. Thus it was fitting that music should be taught : Mrs.
Deborah had once been a proficient on the spiunet, but there was

62 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

no spinnet to be had ; the French tongue forms part of polite educa-
tion, but though both ladies had learned it of old, their memory
was defective, and they had neither dictionary nor grammar nor
any book in the language ; limning, both with pencil and in water-
colours, should be taught, but the sisters could neither of them draw,
and hardly knew a curve from a straight line. Caligraphy is almost
a necessary, but the handwriting of both ladies was tremulous, and
of antiquated fashion ; they knew not the modern Italian hand.
There was in the Rules a professor in the art, and an attempt was
made to get lessons from him. But he was already old and hastening
to the grave, which speedily closed over him ; his hand shook, because
he drank strong waters ; his coat was stained with beer and punch ;
his wig smelt always of tobacco.

Mrs. Deborah undertook, as a beginning, to teach the girl book-
keeping by single and double entry. How or why she ever came to
learn this science has never been understood. Yet she knew it, and
was proud of it.

' It is a science,' she said, ' which controls the commerce of the
world. By its means are we made rich ; by the aid of book-keeping
we apportion the profit and the loss, which are the rewards of the
prudent or the punishment of the thriftless. Without book-keeping,
my dear, the mysteries and methods of which I am about to impart
to you, neither a Whittington, nor a Gresham, nor even a Pimpernel,
would have risen to be Lord Mayor of London.'

Kitty only imperfectly grasped the rudiments of the science. No
doubt, had she been placed in a position of life where it was required,
she would have found it eminently useful. Mrs. Esther, for her
part, taught her embroidery and sampler work. As for preserving,
pickling, making of pastry and home-made wines, cookery, distilling,
and so forth, although the sisters had been in their younger days
notable, it was impossible to teach these arts, because, even if there
had been anything to pickle or preserve, there was only one sitting-
room in which to do it. Therefore, to her present sorrow, Kitty
speedily forgot all that she had formerly learned in the still-room at
Lady Levett's. For thei-e is no station so exalted in which a lady is
not the better for knowing the way in which such things should be
done, if it is only that she may keep her maids in order. And if, as
the learned Dr. Johnson hath informed us, a lady means one who
dispenses gifts of hospitality and kindness, there is another reason
why she should know the value of her gifts. There is something
divine in the contemplation of the allotment of duty to the two
sexes : man must work, build up, invent, and acquire, for woman to
distribute, administer, and divide.

As for reading, they had a book on the history of England, with
the cover olf, and wanting the title-page with several chapters.
There was one of those still remaining in which the author exhorted
his readers (her teachers told the girl that the admonition belonged
to women as well as men) never to grow faiyt or to weary in the de-

HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 63

fence of their Liberties. She ignorantly confounded the Liberties
of the country with the Liberties of the Fleet, and could not avoid
the reflection that a woman would certainly pat more heart into her
defence of the Liberties if these were cleaner, and if there were
fewer men who swore and got drunk. There were also a Bible and
a Church Prayer-book ; there were three odd volumes of ' Sermons ;*
and there were besides odd volumes of romances, poems, and othes
works which Mr. Solomon Stallabras was able to lend.

Mrs. Deborah added to her knowledge of book-keeping some
mastery over the sublime science of astronomy. By standing on
chairs at the window when the west wind blew the fogs away and
the sky was clear, it was possible to learn nearly everything that she
had to teach. The moon was sometimes visible, and a great many of
the stars, because, looking over the market, the space was wide.
Among them were the Pole Star, the Great Bear, Orion's belt, and
Cassiopeia's chair. It was elevating to the soul on such occasions to
watch the heavenly bodies, and to listen while Mrs. Deborah dis-
coursed on the motions of the planets and the courses of the stars.

' The moon, my dear,' she would say, ' originally hung in the
heavens by the hand of the Creator, goes regularly every four weeks
round the sun, while the sun goeth daily roiuid the earth : when the
sun is between the earth and the moon (which happens accidently
once a month or thereabouts), part of the latter body is eclipsed :
wherefore it is then of a crescent-shape : the earth itself goes round
something — I forget what — every year : while the planets, according
to Addison's hymn, go once a year, or perhaps he meant once a month,
round the moon. This is the reason why they are seen in different
positions in the sky. And I believe I am right in saying that if you
look steadily at the Great Bear, you may plainly see that every night
it travels once about the earth at least, or it may be oftener at
different seasons. When we reflect ' — here she quoted from recol-
lection — ' that these bodies are so far distant from us, that we cannot
measure the space between ; that some of them are supposed to be
actually greater than our own world ; that they are probably in-
habited by men and women like ourselves ; that all their movements
round each other are regular, uniform, never intermittent — how ought
we to admire the wisdom and strength of the Almighty Hand
which placed them there !'

Then she repeated, with becoming reverence, the words of Mr.
Addison, the Christian poet, beginning:

'Soon as the evening shades prevail
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth.
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll
And spread the truth from pole to yoia.'

64 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

In such meditations and exercises did these imprisoned ladies
seek to raise their souls above the miseries of their lot. Indeed, oue
may think there is nothing which more tends to make the mind
contented and to prevent repining, than to feel the vastness of
nature, the depth and height of knowledge open to man's intellect,
the smallness of one's self, and the wisdom of God. And although
poor Mrs. Deborah's astronomy was, as has been seen, a jumble ;
although she knew so little, indeed, of constellations or of planets,
that the child did not learn to distinguish Jupiter from the Pole
Star, and never could understand (until that ingenious gentleman,
who lately exhibited an orrery in Piccadilly, taught her) how the
planets and stars could go round the moon, and the moon round the
sun, and the sun round the earth, without knocking against and de-
stroying one another, she must be, and is, deeply grateful for the
thoughts which the good lady awakened.

In all things the sisters endeavoured to keep up the habits and
manners of gentlefolk. The dinner was at times scanty, yet was it
served on a fair white cloth, with plates and knives orderly placed :
a grace before the meat, and a grace after.

In the afternoon, when the dinner was eaten, the cloth removed,
and the plates washed, they were able sometimes to sally forth and
take a walk. In the summer afternoons it was, as has been said,
pleasant to walk to the gardens of Gray's Inn. But when they
ventured to pass through the market there was great choice for
them. The daily service in the afternoons at St. Paul's was close at
hand : here, while the body was refreshed with the coolness of the
air, the mind was calmed with the peace of the church, and the soul
elevated by the chanting of the white-robed choristers and the
canons, while the organ echoed in the roof. After the service they
would linger among the tombs, of which there are not many ; and
read the famous Latin inscription over the door of the cathedral,
' Si monumentum requiris, circumspice.'

1 1 knew him,' Mrs. Esther would whisper, standing before the
great man's monument. ' He was a friend of my father's, and he
often came and talked, my sister and myself being then but little,
on the greatness of astronomy, geometry, and architecture. In the
latter years of his life he would sit in the sunshine, gazing on the
noble cathedral he had built. Yet, grand as it is, he would still
lament that his earlier plans, which were grander still, had not been
accepted.'

Then out into the noisy street again : back to the shouts of
chairmen, waggon-drivers, coachmen, the bawling of those who
cried up and down pavements, the cries of flying piemen, newsmen,
boys with broadsheets, dying confessions, and ballads — back to the
clamour of Fleet Market.

Another excursion, which could only be undertaken when the
days were long, was that to Westminster Abbey.

The way lay along the Strand, which, when the crowded houses

HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 65

behind St. Clement's and St. Mary's were passed, was a wide and
pleasant thoroughfare, convenient for walking, occupied by stately
palaces like Northumberland and Somerset Houses, and by great
shops. At ChariDg Cross one might cross over into Spring Gardens,
where, Mrs. Esther said, there was much idle talk among young
people, with drinking of Rhenish wine. Beyond the gardens was
St. James's Park : Kitty saw it once in those days, being taken by
Sir Miles Lackington ; but so crowded was it with gallant gentle-
men, whose wigs and silken coats were a proper set off to the hoops
and satins of the ladies, that she was ashamed of her poor stuff
frock, and bade Sir Miles lead her away, which he did, being that
day sorrowful and in a repentant mood.

' I have myself worn those silk waistcoats and that silver lace,' he
said with a sigh. ' My place should be amongst them now, were it
not for Hazard. Thy own fit station, pretty pauper, is with those
ladies. But Heaven forbid you should learn what they know !
Alas ! I knew not when I ought to stop in the path of pleasure.'

' Fie !' said she. ' Young men ought not to hud their pleasure in
gambling.'

' Humanity,' said Sir Miles, becoming more cheerful when the Park
was left, 'has with one consent resolved to follow pleasure. The
reverend divines bid us (on Sunday) be content to forego pleasure ;
in the week they, too, get what pleasure they can out of a punch-
bowl. I am content to follow with other men. Come, little Puritan,
what is thy idea of pleasure V

That seemed simple enough to answer.

'I would live in the country,' said she readily, 'away from this
dreadful town ; I would have enough money to drink tea every day
(of course I would have a good dinner, too), and to buy books, to
visit and be visited, and make my ladies happy, and all be gentle-
women together.'

' And never a. man among you all V

'No — we should want no man. You men do but eat, drink, de-
vour, and waste. The "Rules are full of unhappy women, ruined by
your extravagances. Go live all together, and carry each other home
at night, where no woman can see or hear.'

He shook his head with a laugh, and answered nothing. That
same night, however, he was led home at midnight, bawling somt;
drinking song at the top of his voice ; so that the girl's admonition
bad no effect upon him. Perhaps profligate men feel a pleasure not
only in their intemperance but also in repentance. It always seemed
to me as if Sir Miles enjoyed the lamentations of a sinner the morning
after a debauch.

On the few occasions when their journey was prolonged beyond
Charing Cross, the ladies were generally attended and protected by
Mr. Solomon Stallabras, who, though little in stature, was brave, and
would have cudgelled a porter, or cuffed a guardsman, in the defence
of ladies, as well as the strongest and biggest gentleman.

66 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

There are many other things to see in "Westminster Abbey — the
coronation throne, Henry the Seventh's Chapel, the monuments of
kings, queens, great lords, and noble generals — but Mr. Stallabras
had an eye to one spot only.

' There,' he said, ' is the Poet's Corner : with Dryden, Ben Jonson,
and the glorious dead of this spot, shall, perhaps, my ashes be
mixed. Ladies, immortality is the poet's meed.'

The poor man needed some solace in these days, when his poverty
was excessyre. Later on he found a little success : obtained an order
for a volume of ' Travels in Cashmere' (whither he had never been),
which brought him in eight guineas. He afterwards added 'A
Romantic Tale,' the scene of which was laid in the same sweet abode
of Sensibility. It was interspersed with verses, as full of delicacy
as the tale itself. But the publisher, who gave him five guineas for
it, complained afterwards that he had lost by his bargain. Mr.
Stallabras often boasted of the great things he could do were there
no publishers, and regretted the invention of printing, which ren-
dered this class, who prey upon the very vitals of poor poets, a
necessity.

These holidays, these after-hours of rest in the tranquil aisles of
St. Paul's, or the awful Gothic shades of Westminster, were far be-
tween. Mostly the three sat together over their work, while the
tumult raged below.

' Patience, child,' said Mrs. Deborah. ' Patience, awhile. We
have borne it for nigh thirty years. Can you, who have hope, not
bear it a little longer V

Said Mrs. Esther : ' Providence wisely orders every event, so that
each year or each day shall add something to the education of the
soul. It is doubtless for some wise purpose we have been kept in
scarceness among runagates and spendthrifts.'

On Sundays they generally went to the church of St. Giles, Cripple-
gate. It was a long way from the Pules, but the ladies liked it
because it was the church where their father lay buried. From the
place where they sat in the seats of the poor, which have neither
cushions nor backs, they could read the tablet to the memory of
the late Joshua Pimpernel, once Lord Mayor of London, and Alder-
man of Portsoken Ward. The great church was full of City memories,
dear to them from their childhood : when they were girls they used
to sit in a stately pew with red serge seats and hassocks ; now, they
worshipped in the same church, but on the benches among the poor
women and the children. Yet there was the same service, with the
rector and the clerk in their desks, the schoolboys of the Charity
along the left, and the schoolgirls of the Charity along the right ;
the beadles and vergers, the old women who swept the church, opened
the pew doors, curtsied to the quality and remained behind for
doles — all brought back their childhood. They were as poor them-
selves as these old trots, but they could not stay for doles It is a
large and handsome church, filled with grave citizensj responsible

HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 6?

men, whose ventures are abroad on many seas, respected for wealth
and upright conduct, good men and true, such as was, in his day,
my Lord Mayor Pimpernel himself ; with the citizens sit their wives
bravely attired, and their daughters making gallant show in hoops,
patches, lace, sarsnet, and muslin. Outside the church a graveyard,
piled and full, still with a tree or two upon it, whoso boughs in June
are covered with bright green leaves, among which the sparrows
twitter and fly about. There is also a great round tower of antique
look, which once had been part of the I Ionian wall of London.

Here they went to worship. When the minister came to the words
in the Litany —

' Lord have mercy upon all prisoners and captives,'

the sisters would catch each other by the hand, and audibly follow
the reader in prayer as well as response. For thirty years, for fifty-
two Sundays in each year, they had made that prayer in the same
words, for most of the time in the same church. Yet what answer ?

Kitty took the prayer, presently, for herself as well. If these
ladies were prisoners, why, what was she 1 If they might not sleep
abroad, and only walk in the streets by permission and license of
the law, how was she different from them, since she could not, being
but a maid , and young and penniless, go abroad at all without them
or some other protection ?

The sight of the leaves on the trees outside ; the fluttering and
flying of the sparrows, now and then the buzzing of a foolish bee who
had found his way into the church, carried the girl's thoughts away
to the quiet place in the country where, between Hall and Vicarage,
she had been brought up. Would the sweet country never more be
seen 1 "Was her life to be, like that of these poor ladies, one long
prison among reprobates and profligates ?

The summer came on apace : it grew hot in June ; in July it was
so hot that they were fain to sit all day and to sleep all night, with
open windows. The air was cooler, perhaps, at night, but it was
laden with the odours of decaying cabbages, trodden peas and beans,
rotten strawberries, bruised cherries, broken gooseberries, with the
nauseous breath of the butcher's stall, and the pestilential smell of
the poulterer's shop. Moreover, they could not but hear the oaths
and ribaldries of those who sat and lounged about the market, staying
in the open air because it was warm and because it was cheap. The
bulkheads, bunks, booths, stalls, and counters of the market were free
and open to the world : a log of wood for a pillow, a hard plank for
a bed ; this was the reward of a free and lawless life. On most
nights it seemed best to lie with windows closed and endure the
heat. Yet closed windows could not altogether keep out the noise,
for on these summer nights all the knaves and thieves unhung in
this great town seemed to be gathered here, pleased to be all together,
a Parliament of rogues, under the pent-houses and on the stalls of
the market. And tin in some Iioman Catholic countries nuns and

6—2

68 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

muiiKS maintain a perpetual adoration to the Blessed Virgin, whom
they ignorantly worship, so did these reprobates maintain a perpetual
litany of ribaldry and foul conversation. It never ceased. When
one grew tired he lay down and slept : his friends carried on the
talk ; the drinking booths were open all night long, so that those
who talked might slake their thirst, and if any waked and felt thirsty
he too might have a drain and so lie clown again. Day and night
there was a never-ending riot : the ladies, as the hot days continued,
grew thinner and paler, but they bore it patiently ; they had borne
it for thirty years.

Between two and three in the morning there generally came a
little respite ; most of the brawlers were then asleep, drunk, or tired
out ; only at corners, where there was drink to be had, men and
women still gathered together, talking and joking. At four, or
thereabouts, the market-carts began to arrive, and noise of another
kind began.

One morning in July Kitty awoke — it was a hot and close night
— just when all the City clocks were striking three ; it was broad
daylight ; she sprang from bed, and drawing the blind aside a little,
looked out upon the market below and the City around. In the
clear and cloudless air, before the new day had charged it with a
fresh covering or headpiece of smoke, she saw the beautiful spires of
St. Bride's, St. Dunstan's, St. Andrew's, St. Mary's, and St. Cle-
ment's rising one beyond the other into the clear blue sky, their
weathercocks touched by the morning sun ; on the south, over the
river, were visible the green hills of Surrey, the sun shining on their
hanging woods, as plain as if they were half a mile away. On the
north there were the low hills of Highgate, Hampstead, and Hornsey,
the paradise of cits, and yet places most beautiful, wooded and
retired. Everywhere, north, west, and south, spires of churches
rising up to the heavens, as if praying for the folk beneath. And
under her eyes, the folk themselves !

They were human ruins of the past, the present, and the future.

Old men were among them who lay with curled -up limbs, shaking
with cold, warm though the night was, and old women, huddled up
in scanty petticoats, lying with tremulous lips and clasped hands.
The cheeks both of the old men and the old women were swollen
with drink. What was the record of their lives] Some of them
had been rogues and vagabonds from the very first, though how they
managed to scape the gallows would be hard to tell. Doubtless their
backs were well scarred with the fustigations of the alderman's whip,
and they could remember the slow tread of the cart behind which
they had marched from Newgate to Tyburn, the cruel cat falling
at every step upon their naked and bleeding shoulders. Yet what
help % They must starve or they must steal ; and, being taken, they
must be hanged or must be flogged.

Why, these poor old men and poor old women should, had they
not missed the meaning of their lives, have been sitting in high

HOW KITTY SPENT HER TIME. 69

places, with the state and reverence due to honoured age, with the
memory of a life well fought, huDg with chains of gold, draped with
cloth of silver and lace. Yet they were here, crouched in this filthy,
evil-smelling place, eyes shut, backs bent, lips trembling, cheeks
twitching, and minds hardened to iniquity. l)id any of them, per-
chance, remember how one who knew declared that never had ho
seen the righteous forsaken or the good man beg his bread \

A dreadful shivering seized the girl. What plank of safety, what
harbour of refuge was open to her that she too might escape this
fate 1 What assurance had she that her end might not be like unto
the end of these '? Truly none, save that faith by which, as Paul hath
taught, the only way to heaven itself is opened.

Then there were young men with red and swollen faces, thieves
and vagabonds by profession, who found the air of the market more
pleasant than that of Turnmill or Chick Street. Yet it was an ominous
and suspicious place to sleep in ; a place full of bad dreams for
thieves, criminals, and debtors, since close at hand was the Fleet
Prison, its wards crowded with the careless, who lounged and jested,
and the hopeless, who sat in despair ; since but a hundred yards
from them stood the black and gloomy Newgate, its condemned cells
full of wretches, no worse than themselves, waiting to be hanged, its
courts full of other wretches, no worse than themselves, waiting to
be tried, sentenced, and cast for execution, and its gaol-fever hanging
over all alike, delivering the wards from their prisoners, cheating
the hangman, hurrying to death judge, jury, counsel, prisoner, and
warders together. But they never think upon such things, these
poor rogues ; each hopes that while his neighbour is hanged, he will
escape. They cannot stop to think, they cannot turn back : behind
them is the devil driving them downwards ; before them, if they
dare to lift their eyes, the horrid machinery of justice with pillory,
whip, and gallows. Among them, here and there, pretty boys and
girls, lying asleep side by side upon the hard wooden stalls ; boys
with curly hair and rosy "faces, girls with long eyelashes, parted lips,
and ruddy cheeks— pity, pity," that when they woke they should
begin again the only trade they knew : to thieve, filch, and pick
pockets, with the reward of ducking, pumping, Hogging, and hanging.

So clear was the air, so bright the morning, that what she saw
was impressed upon her memory clearly, so that she can never
forget it. The old men and old women are dead ; the young men
and women are, one supposes, hanged ; what else could be their
fate? And as for the boys and girls, the little rogues and thieves,
f/ho had no conscience and took all, except the whippings, for frolic,
are any left still to sleep on hot nights in that foul place, or are all
hanged, whipped at the cart-tail, burnt in the hand, or at best,
transported to labour under the lash in the plantations 1

Sinner succeeds unto sinner as the year follows year ; the crop of
gallows fruit increases day by day ; but tho criminals do not seem
to become fewer.

70 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE MADE TWO 'WOMEN PRISONERS.

ONE Sunday evening in the autumn, the market being then quiet,
the two ladies and the girl sat round a fire of coal, talking together
by its light. The memories of the sisters, by some accident, were
carried back to the past, and they told the child the story, of which
she already knew a part, how by a great and crying injustice of the
law, they had been shut up in prison, for no fault of their own, for
nearly thirty years.

'My father's eyes,' said Mrs. Deborah, looking at the portrait
over the fireplace, ' seem to rest upon me to-night.'

Mrs. Esther shuddered.

' It is a sign, sister,' she said, ' that something will happen to us.'

Mrs. Deborah laughed a little bitterly. I thought afterwards
that the laugh was like that of Sarai, because a thing did happen to
her, as will presently be seen.

'Nothing,' she said, 'will happen to you and to me anymore,
Esther, except more pain and more starvation.'

' Patience, Deborah,' sighed Mrs. Esther. ' We who have borne
our captivity for nine-and-twenty years '

'And seven months,' said her sister.

' Can surely bear it a little longer.'

' We were girls when we came here,' said Mrs. Deborah; 'girla
who might have had lovers and become mothers of brave sons— not
that you, Kitty, should let your thoughts run on such matters. But
there are no honest lovers for honest girls in the Eules of the Fleet.'

' Lovers !' echoed Mrs. Esther, with a heavy sigh. ' Mothers !
with sons ! Ah, no ! not for us.'

' We are old women now, sister. Well, everything is short that
hath an end. Let us take comfort. To earthly prison is a certain
end appointed.'

' We came to the gaol, sister,' continued Mrs. Esther ; ' two girls,
weeping, hand-in-hand. Poor girls ! poor girls ! My heart bleeds
to think of them, so young and so innocent.'

' We shall go out of it,' said her sister, ' with tears of joy. They
snail write upon our tombstones, "These sisters thank God for
death."'

' What fault, we asked — ah ! Deborah, how often we asked it ! —
what fault had we committed? For what sin or crime of ours did
this ruin fall upon us V

' I ask it still,' said Deborah the impatient, ' I ask it every day.
How can they call this a laud of justice, when two innocent women
can be locked up for life V

' My sister, we may not kick against the pricks. If laws aro
unjust they must be changed, not disobeyed.'

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 71

Mrs. Deborah replied by a gesture of impatience.

' We were blessed with parents,' said Mrs. Esther, half talking to
herself, half to me, ' whose worth and piety were as eminent as their
lofty positions in the City. Our respected father was Lord Mayor
in the year 1716, when, with our esteemed mother, who was by birth
a Balchiu, and the grand-daughter of Sir Rowland La.lchiu, also once
Lord Maj'or, he had the honour of entertaining his Highness Prince
George of Denmark. We were present at that royal banquet in the
gallery. Our father was also, of course, an alderman '

' Of Portsoken Ward,' said Mrs. Deborah.

'And Worshipful Master of the Company of Armour Scourers.'

' And churchwarden of St. Dionis Lackchurch,' said Mrs.
Deborah.

' Which he beautified, adding a gallery at his own expense.'

'And where, in 1718, a tablet was placed in the wall to his
memory,' added Mrs. Deborah.

' And one to the memory of Esther, his wife,' continued the elder
sister, 'who died in the year 1719, so that we, being still minors,
unfortunately became wards of a merchant, an old and trusted
friend of our father.'

'A costly friend he proved to us,' said Mrs. Deborah.

' Nay, sister, blame him not. Perhaps he thought to multiply our
fortunes tenfold. Then came the year of 1720, when, by visitation
of the Lord, all orders and conditions of men went mad, and we,
like thousands of others, lost our little all, and from rich heiresses or
twenty thousand pounds apiece — such, Kitty, was then our enviable
condition — became mere beggar-girls.'

' Worse,' said Mrs. Deborah, grimly. ' Beggar-wenches are not in
debt ; they may go and lay their heads where they please.'

' We were debtors, but to whom I know not ; we owed a large
sum of money, but how much I know not ; nor have ever been able
to understand how our guardian ruined us, with himself. I was
twenty-two, and my sister twenty-one ; we were of age ; no one
could do anything for us ; needs must we come to the Fleet and be
lodged in prison.'

' Esther !' cried her sister, shuddering ; ' must we tell her all V

' My child,' continued Mrs. Esther, 'we suffered at first more than
we dare to tell you. .There was then in charge of the prison a
wretch, a murderer, a man whose sins towards me I have, I hope,
forgiven, as is my Christian duty. But his sins towards my sister
I can never forgive ; no, never. It is not, I believe,' she said with
more asperity than I had ever before remarked in her — ' it cannot
be expected of any Christian woman that she should forgive in a
wicked man his wickedness to others.'

' That is my case,' said Mrs. Deborah. ' The dreadful cruelties of
Bambridge, so far as I am concerned, are forgiven. I cannot, how-
ever, forgive those he inflicted upon you, Esther, And I never
mean to.'

72 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

This seemed at the moment an edifying example of obedience to
the divine law. Afterwards the girl wondered whether any person
was justified in nourishing hatred against another. And as to
that, Bambridge was dead ; he had committed suicide ; he had gone
where no human hate could harm him.

Everyone knows that this man must have been a most dreadful
monster. He was the tenant, so to speak, of the prison, and paid so
much a year for the privilege of extorting what money he could
from the unfortunate debtors. He made them pay commitment
fees, lodging fees, and fees of all kinds, so that the very entrance to
the prison cost a poor wretch sometimes more than forty pounds.
lie took from the two ladies all the money they had, to the last
guinea ; he threatened them with the same punishment which he
( illegally) inflicted on the unfortunate men ; he would, he said, clap
tliem in irons, set them in tubs, put them in the strong-room, which
was a damp and dark and filthy dungeon, not lit for a Turk ; he
kept their lives in continual terror of some new misery : they had
ever before their eyes the spectacle of his cruelties to Captain
MacPheadrid, whom he lamed ; Captain Sinclair, whom he confined
until his memory was lost and the use of his limbs ; Jacob Mendez,
whom he kept locked up till he gave up his uttermost farthing ;
nnd Sir William Eich, whom he slashed with a hanger and beat
with sticks because he could not pay his lodging.

And as everyone knows, Bambridge was at last turned out through
the exertions of General Oglethorpe.

' And how can I forget the generous band,
Who, touched with human woe, redressive searched
Into the horrors of the gloomy gaol ! :

'We endured these miseries,' continued Mrs. Esther, 'for four
y;ars, when our cousin was able to go security and pay the fees for
'js to leave the dreadful place and enjoy the Bules. Here, at least,
we have some liberty, though we must live among scenes of rude-
ness, and see and hear daily a thousand things which a gentlewoman
should be able to escape and forget. Our cousin,' she went on, after
a pause, 'is not rich, and is able to do little for us : he sends us
from time to time, out of his poverty, something for our necessities :
out of this we have paid our rent, and being able sometimes to d<>
some sewing work, we have lived, though but poorly. Two women
■want but little : a penny will purchase a dish of broth.'

'It is not the poverty we lament/ said Mrs. Deborah, 'it is the
place wherein we live.'

' Then,' Mrs. Esther went on, ' Heaven sent us a friend. My dear,
be it known to you, that had it not been for the Doctor, we had, ere
now, been starved. He it was who found us in huuger and cold ;
he fed us, clothed us, and warmed us.'

' To us, at least, he will always be the best of men,' said Mrs.
Debora''

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 73

'More than that, sister ; he hath brought ua this child to be our
joy and comfort : though God in His mercy forbid that your young
days should all be wasted in this wicked place, which surely is the
very mouth '

Here they were interrupted by an uproar in the street below us :
a bawling and bellowing of many men : they were bringing home
the baronet, who was already drunk. Among the voices Kitty
heard, and hung her head with shame, the tones of her uncle, as
clear and sonorous as the great bell of St. Paul's.

They said nothing for a space. "When all was quiet again, and
the brawlers had withdrawn, Airs. Esther spoke in her gentle way.

'A man's life doth, doubtless, seem to himself dillereut from what
he seems to the women who know him. We know not his moments
of repentance, his secret prayers, or his temptations. Men are
stronger than women, and they are also weaker : their virtues are
nobler : their vices are more conspicuous. We must not judge, but
continue to think the best. I was saying, my dear, when we were
interrupted by the brawling of Sabbath- breakers, that your uncle,
the worthy Doctor, is the most kind-hearted and generous of men.
For all that he has done to us, three poor and defenceless women, we
have nothing to give in return but our prayers. Let us give him
these, at least. May the Lord of all goodness and mercy reward him,
strengthen him, and forgive him whatever fradties do beset him !'

CHAPTEP X.

HOW THE DOCTOE 1VJS AT HOME TO HIS FRIENDS.

If it be true (which doubtless will be denied by no one) that women
are fond of changing their fashions and of pranking themselves con-
tinually in some new finery, it is certainly no less true that men — I
mean young ones — are for ever changing their follies as well as their
fashions. The follies of old men — who ought to be grave, in contem-
plation of the next world — seem to remain the same : some of them
practise gluttony : some love the bottle : some of them the green
table : some, even more foolish, pretend to renew their youth and
counterfeit a passion for our sex. As for the fashions of the young-
wen, one year it is the cocking of a hat, the next it is the colour of
a waistfoat, the cut of a skirt, the dressing of a wig ; the ribbon
behind must be lengthened or reduced, the foretop must stick up
like a horn one year and lie flat the next, the curls must be amplified
till a man looks like a monstrous ram, or reduced till he resembles a
monkey who has been shaved ; the sword must have hilt and scab-
bard of the fashionable shape which changes every year ; it must be
worn at a certain angle ; the rule about the breadth of the ruffle or

74 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

the length of the skirt must be observed. So that, even as regards
their fashions, the men are even •with, the women. Where we cannot
vie with them is in the fashion of their amusements, in which they
change for ever, and more rapidly than we change the colour of a
ribbon. One season Ranelagh is the vogue, the next Vauxhall ; the
men were, for a year or two, bitten by that strange madness of
scouring the streets by night, upsetting constables, throwing pence
against window-panes, chasing belated and peaceful passengers,
shouting and bellowing, waking from sleep timid and helpless
women and children. Could one devise a braver and more noble
amusement 1 Another time there was the mischievous practice of
man-hunting. It was thought the work of a line fellow, a lad of
spirit, to lie hidden, with other lads of spirit, in Lincoln's Inn
fields, or some such quiet place, behind the bushes, until there
might pass by some unfortunate wretch, alone and unprotected.
Then would they spring to their feet, shouting, ' That's he ! that's
he ! after him, boys !' and pursue the poor man through the
streets with drawn swords and horrid cries, until, half dead, he
rushed into some tavern or place of refuge. As for actors, singers,
or dancers, they take them up for a season, and then abandon
them for no merit or fault in them whatever ; one day they are all
for Church, and the next they applaud Orator Henley ; one day they
shout for Nancy Dawson, and the next for Garrick ; one day they
are Whig, and the next Tory ; one year they brandish thick clubs,
wear heavy greatcoats with triple capes, swear, drink porter, and go
like common coachmen ; the next, with amber canes, scented gloves,
lace ruffles, flowered silk waistcoats, skirts extended like a woman's
hooped petticoat, they amble along as if the common air was too
coarse for them, mince their words, are shocked at coarse language,
and can drink nothing less tine than Ehenish or Champagne, though
the latter be seven shillings and sixpence a flask ; and as for their
walk, they go on tip-toe like a city madam trying to look like a
gentlewoman. The next year, again, they are alitor Hockley-in-the
Hole and bear-baiting. This year, the fashion was for a short space,
and among such as could get taken there, to spend the evenings in
the Rules of the Fleet, where, the bloods of the town had discovered,
was to be found excellent company for such as liked to pay for it,
among those who had been spent and ruined m the service of
fashion, gaming, and gallantry.

There are plenty of taverns and houses of call in London where a
gentleman may not only call for what he pleases to order, but may
also be diverted by the jests and songs of some debauched, idle
fellow who lies and lops about all day, doing no work and earning
no money, but in the evening is ready to sing and make merriment;
for a bowl of punch. This rollicking, roaring blade, the lad of
mettle, was once a gentleman, perhaps, or a companion to gentlemen.
To him nature, intending her worst, hath given a reckless tempera-
ment, an improvident brain, a merry laugh, a musical voice, a geuiua

THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 75

for mimicry, of which gifts he makes such excellent use that they
generally lead him to end his days in such ;i position. Men need
not, for certain, go to Fleet Market to find these buffoons.

Yet, within the Rules, there was an extraordinary number of these
careless vagabonds always ready to enjoy the present hour could
some friend be found to pay the shot. In the morning they roamed
the place, leaned against bulkheads, sat in doorways, or hid them-
selves within doors, dejected, repentant, full of gloomy anticipations ;
in the evening their old courage came back to them, they were again
jocund, light-hearted, the oracle of the tavern, the jester and Jack-
pudding of the feast, pouring out songs from the collections of Tom
D'Urfey, and jokes from Browne and Ned Ward.

Many of the taverns, the Bishop Blaize, for example, and the
Rainbow, kept one or two of these fellows in their regular employ.
They gave them dinner, with, as soon as the guests arrived in the
evening, liberty to call for what they pleased. If the visitors
treated them, so much the better for the house ; but there were,
however, conditions, unwritten but understood : they were never to
be sad, never grave, never to show the least signs of repentauce,
reflection or shame ; and they were not to get drunk early foi the
evening, or before the better sort of visitors, whose entertainment
they were to provide. Shameful condition! shameful servitude,
for man (who hath a soul to think of) to obey !

One has to confess with shame that among the tavern buffoons,
the professional Tom Fools of the Fleet, were several of those
clergymen whose trade it was to make rash couples wretched for
life. This peculiarity, not to be found elsewhere, provided, perhaps,
a novelty in vice which for a time made the Rules a favourite resort
of men about town : the knowledge that the man who, without a rag
left of the gravity belonging to his profession, laughed, sang and
acted for the amusement of all comers, should have borne himself as
a grave and reverend divine, gave point to his jest and added music
to his song. It is not every clay that one sees a merry-andrew in
full-bottomed wig, bands, and flowing gown ; it is not in every
tavern that one finds the Reverend James Lands dancing a hornpipe
in clogs, or the Reverend William Flood bawling a comic song while
he grins through a horse-collar. Nor could the wits find at the
coffee-houses of St. James's or Covent Garden, or at any ordinary
place of amusement, a clergyman at the head of the table ruffling it
with the best — albeit with tattered gown and shabby wig— ready
with jest more profane, wit more irreverent, song and story more
profligate, than any of the rest.

As for Doctor Shovel, it must not be supposed that he was to be
found in any of these places.

'What!' he was wont to cry, 'should a man of reputation, &
scholar, whose Latin verses have been the delight of bishops and the
pride of his college, a clergyman of dignity and eloquence, condescend
to take the pay of a common vintner, make merriment for the coo -

76 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

pany of a mughouse, hobnob with a tradesmen's club, play buffoon
for a troop of Templars, and crack jests for any ragamuffin prentice
with balf-a-crown to call for a bottle ? No, sir ! The man who
would know Doctor Gregory Shovel must seek him in his own house,
where, as a gentleman and a scholar, he receives such as may be
properly introduced on every night of the year — Sundays excepted,
when he takes his drink, for the most part, alone.'

In fact, his house was the chief attraction of the Eules ; but accesa
was only granted to those who were brought by his frien \s. Once
introduced, however, a man was free of the house, and might not
only come again as often as he pleased, but bring other friends.
Now, as men prize most that which is least easy to procure, whether
they want it or not, it became a distinction to have this right of
spending the evening in the Fleet Market. A fine distinction, truly !

Those, however, who went there were not unlikely to find them-
selves among a goodly assemblage of wits and men of fashion. The
Doctor played the host with the dignity of a bishop, and the hospi-
tality of a nobleman ; chairs were set around the table, in that
room where he performed his daily marriages ; those who came late
could stand or send for a bench from the market ; Roger and William,
the two clerks, were in attendance to go and fetch the punch which
the Doctor or his guests provided for the entertainment of all.
Tobacco was on the table ; the Doctor was in the chair, his long pipe
in his mouth, his great head leaning back, his eyes rolling as he
talked, before him his glass of punch. He was no buffoon ; he did
not cut capers, nor did he dance, nor did he sing Tom D'Urfey's
songs, nor did he quote Ned "Ward's jokes. If the company laughed,
it was at one of his own stories, and when he sang, the words were
such as might have been heard in any gentlewoman's parlour, and
the music was Arne's, Bull's, Lilly's, or Carey's. Eound him wer«
poets, authors, scholars, lawyers, country gentlemen, and even grave
merchants ; some of them were out at elbows, threadbare, and some-
times hungry, but they were as welcome as the richer sort who paid
for the puuch. The younger men came to listen to one who was
notorious for his impudent defiance of the law, and was reported to
possess excellent guts of conversation and of manner. The elder
men came to look upon a man unabashed in his disgrace, whom they
had known the favourite of the town.

' All the world,' Sir Miles Lackington told me, 'ran after Doctor
Shovel when he was a young man and evening lecturer at St.
Martin's-in-the-Fields ; never was clergyman more popular iu the
world or in the pulpit ; what was to be looked for when such a
young man spent his morning with great ladies, who cried, '' Oh,
sweet sir ! oh, reverend sir ! how eloquent, how gracious are your
words !" but that he should see within reach promise of preferment,
and run into debt to maintain a fine appearance and a fine lodging V

The fine ladies had gone off after other favourite divines ; their
promises were forgotten ; they had listened to other voices aa

THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 77

musical, and bowed their heads before other divides as pious. The
debts were unpaid — the Doctor in the liules. lie possessed no
longer the wonderful comeliness with which he li.nl stolen away the
hearts of ■women, he preached no more in any pulpit ; but his old
dignity was left, with his eloquence and his wit. lie who had
charmed women now attracted men.

' Fie !' he would say ; ' remind me not of that time. I was once
the pet and playthings of ladies, a sort of lapdog to be carried in
their coaches : a lackey in a cassock, with my little store of compli-
ments, pretty sayings, and polite maxims ; my advice on patches,
powder, and Eau de Chypre : my family prayers : my grace before
meat : my sermons on divine right and the authority of the Church ;
and my anecdotes to make my lady laugh and take the cross looks
out of little miss's dimpled cheeks. And, gentlemen, withal a needy
curate, a poor starveling, a pauper with never a guinea, and a troop
of debts which would not disgrace a peer.

' Whereas,' he would continue, 'here I live free of duns and debt :
the countesses may go hang : I look for no more patrons : I expect
no beggarly preferment ; 1 laugh at my ease, while my creditors
bark but cannot bite.'

To those who objected that in former times he preached to the
flock, and that his eloquence was now as good as lost to the Church,
he replied that, as Chaplain of the Fleet, he preached daily,
whereas formerly he had preached but once a week, which was a
clear gain for righteousness.

'What ! would you have me send forth my newly married lambs
without a word of exhortation beyond the rubric ? Nay, sir ; that
were to throw away the gift of speech, and to lose a golden occasion.
None leave my chapel-of-ease unless fortified and exhorted to virtue
by such an admonition as they have never before enjoyed.'

One evening in October, when the summer was over and the
autumn already set in, the Doctor sat as usual in his arm-chair.
Before him stood his tobacco-box, and beside it lay his pipe. As
yet, for it was but eight o'clock, there was no punch. Four great
wax candles stood lighted on the table, and in the doorway were
the two impudent varlets, whom he called his clerks, leaning against
the posts, one on either hand.

There was but one visitor as yet. He was a young Templar,
almost a boy, pale and thiu because of his late hours and his
excesses. And the Doctor was admonishing him, being at the time
in a mood of repentance, or rather of virtue.

' Young man,' he said, ' I have observed thee, and made inquiry
among thy friends regarding thy conduct, which resembles, at
present, that of the prodigal son while revelling in his prodigality.
Learn from this place and the wretches who are condemned to live
in it, the end of profligacy. What the words of Solomon have
hitherto been powerless to teach, let the Chaplain of the Fleet
enforce, The wellspring of wisdom is as a flowing brook, says the

78 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

Wise Man. Yet ye drink not of that stream. Also he saith that
Wisdom crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city. But ye regard
not. He hath told ye how the young man, void of understanding,
falls continually into the pit of destruction. But ye heed not. The
drunkard and the glutton, he hath declared, shall come to poverty.
Ye listen not, but continue to eat and to drink. Wherefore, young
man, look around thee and behold this place. We who are here sit
among wine-bibbers and spendthrifts : we have not in our comings
and goings — but, alas ! we never go — any gracious paths of pleasant-
ness : we go never among the meadows to breathe the air of butter-
cups and to ponder on the divine wisdom : we listen perpetually to
the cackle of fools, the braying of asses, whom we could indeed wish
to be wild and on their native Asiatic plains ; and the merriment of
madmen, which is like unto the crackling of thorns beneath the pot:
we have — though our sins are multitudinous as the moments — no
time nor opportunity for repentance : and even if we did repent,
there is no way out for us, no escape at all, but still we must remain
among the wicked until we die. Even the Christian priest, who finds
himself (through thoughtlessness over money matters, being con-
tinually occupied with higher things) brought hither, must leave the
ways which are right, and cleave unto those which are wrong. It is
only by lying, bullying, and swearing, that money (by which we
live) is drawn here out of the purses of silly and unwary people.
Granted that we draw it. What boots it if one's rogues bring in a
hundred couples in a month ? The guineas melt away like snow in
the sunshine, and nothing remains but the evil memory of the sins
by which they were gotten.'

The Templar, astonished at such a sermon from such a man, hung
his head abashed. He came to drink and be merry, and lo ! an
exhortation to virtue. While the Doctor was yet speaking, there
came a second visitor — no other than Mr. Stallabras, the poet, who
came, his head erect, his hand thrust in his bosom, as if fresh from
an interview with the Muses. The Doctor regarded him for a
moment, as one in a pulpit might regard a late-comer who disturbed
his sermon, and went on with his discourse :

' This is a place, young man, where gnashing of teeth may be
heard day and night by him who has ears to hear, and who knows
that the sounds of riot and merriment are but raised to drown
despair : to him every song is a throb of agony, every jest rings in
his ears like a cry of remorse : we are in a prison, though we seem to
be free ; we are laid by the heels, though we are said to enjoy the
Liberties of the Fleet ; we live and breathe like our fellows, but we
have no hope for the rest of our lives ; we go not forth, though the
doors are open ; we are living monuments, that foolish 3'outh may
learn by our luckless fate to avoid the courses which have brought
us hither. Wherefore, young men, beware ! Discite just ilium
moniti.'

He paused awhile, and then continued :

THE DOCTOR AT HOME. 79

' yet we should not be pitied, because, forsooth, we do but lie in
the beds that we have chosen. No other paradise save a heaven of
gluttony would serve our turn. In the Garden of Eden, should we
peradventure and by some singular grace win thither, we should
instantly take to wallowing in the mud and enjoying the sunshine :
some of us would sit among the pigsties in happy conversation and
friendship with the swine : some would creep downstairs and bask
among the saucepans before the kitchen tire : some would lie among
the bottles and casks in the cellar. Not for such as have come here
are the gardens, the streams, the meadows, and the hilltops.'

Then came two more guests, whom he saluted gravely. These
were accustomed to the Doctor's moods, and sat down to the table,
waiting in silence. He, too, became silent, sitting with his head
upon his hand. Then came others, who also found the Doctor
indisposed for mirth. Presently, however, he banged the table with
his fist, and cried out in those deep tones which he could use so well :

' Come, life is short. Lamenting lengthens not our days. Brothers,
let us drink and sing. Roger, £>o bring the bowl. Gentlemen all,
be welcome to this poor house. Here is tobacco. Punch is coming.
The night is young. Let every man be merry.'

The room was half full : there were, besides the residents and
lodgers of the place, young lawyers from the Temple, Gray's Inn,
and Lincoln's Inn ; poets not yet in limbo ; authors who were still
able to pay for their lodgings ; young fellows whose creditors were
still forbearing ; and a few whose rich coats and lace betokened
their rank and wealth.

The evening began, the Doctor's voice loud above all the rest.
Half an hour afterwards, when the air of the room was already
heavy with tobacco-smoke, Sir Miles Lackington, who usually came
with the earliest, arrived, bringing with him a young gentleman of
twenty-two years or thereabouts, who was bravely dressed in a
crimson coat, lined with white silk : he had also a flowered silk
waistcoat, and the hilt of his sword was set with jewels. He was,
m fact, one of those gentlemen who were curious to see this jovial
priest, self-styled Chaplain of the place where there were so many
parsons, who set the laws of the country at defiance with an audacity
so splendid. He looked surprised, as if he had not expected so large
an assembly.

'Follow me, my lord,' said the baronet, whose jolly face was
already flushed, and his voice already thick with wine. ' Come, my
lord, let us get nearer the Doctor. Gentlemen, by your leave. : will
you make place for his lordship 1 Doctor, this gentleman is none
other than the young Lord Chudleigh, who hath heard of your
eloquence and your learning, and greatly desires your better ac-
quaintance. Pascal Eoger, chairs for my lord and myself !'

He pushed his way through the crowd, followed by his guest
The Doctor turned his head, half rose ; his melancholy mood had
passed away : he was in happy vein : he had sung one or two songs

8o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

in a voice which might have been heard at Temple Bar : he had
taken two or three glasses of punch, and smoked a pipe and a half
of the best Virginian ; he was in the paradise which he loved. Yet
when Sir Miles Lackington spoke, when he named his guest, the
Doctor's face became suddenly pale, he seemed to totter, his eyta
glared, and he caught at the arm of his chair, as if about to be
stricken with some kind of fit. His friends, who had never seen
those ample and rubicund cheeks other than of a glowing ruddiness,
were greatly terriBed at this phenomenon.

' The Doctor is ill,' cried Solomon Stallabras, starting to his feet.
' Give air — open the windows — let us carry the Doctor into the
street !'

But he recovered.

' It is nothing,' he said. ' A sudden faintness. The day has been
close. Let no one move.' He drank off his glass of punch : the
colour came back to his face and the firmness to his legs. ' I am
well again. Sir Miles, you are always welcome. Were the Liber-
ties peopled with such as you, we should be well sped indeed. Quick
with the chairs, Roger. I rejoice to see your lordship in this poor
house of mine. Had other noblemen of your lordship's rank but
kept their word, I should this day have welcomed you in the palace
of a bishop. Forget, my lord, that I am not a bishop : be assured
that if I cannot bestow the episcopal absolution and benediction
which he of London hath ever ready for a nobleman, my welcome
is worthy of a prelate, and the punch not to be surpassed even at
Lambeth Palace. Sir Miles, you forgot, I think, to make me ac-
quainted with his lordship's noble name.'

' I am the Lord Chudleigh,' said the young man, doubtfully, and
with a pleasing blush.

' Again, your lordship is welcome,' said the Doctor. 'In the old
days when I was young and able to stir abroad in the world, with-
out a creditor in every street and a vindictive dun in every shop
(whose revenge in this my confinement has only brought lamenta-
tion on every mother's son, because they remain all unpaid), it waa
my privilege to be much with your noble father. In truth, I knew
not that he was dead.'

'My father died two years ago at his country house.'

' Indeed !' The Doctor gravely gazed in his guest's face, both
still standing. ' Is that really so ] But we who live in this retire-
ment hear little news. So Lord Chudleigh is dead ! I went upon
the Grand Tour with him. I was his tutor, his companion, his
friend, as he was kind enough to call me ; he was two years younger
than myself, but our tastes were common, and what he bought I
enjoyed and often chose. There came a time when — but your lord-
ship is young — you know not yet how rank and class separate
friends, how the man of low birth may trust his noble friend too
much, and he of rank may think the decalogue written for th<?
vulgar. Your father is dead ! I had hoped to see him i! Ivit ^-39

THE DOCTOR AT HOME. £1

more, before lie died : it was not to be. I would have written to
him upon his deathbed had I known : I owed him much — very
much more than I could hope to repay, yet would I have repaid
something. Your father died suddeulv, my lord, or after painful
illness V

'He died, Doctor Shovel, after a long and very painful illness.'

'Why, there,' cried the Doctor, as if disappointed. 'Had I only
known there would have been time for half-a-dozen letters. I would
I had been with him myself.'

' It is kind of you, sir,' said his lordship, ' thus to speak of my
father.'

' Did he — but I suppose he had forgotten — did he condescend to
speak of me V

'Never/ replied Lord Chudleigh ; ' at least not to me.'

'There were certain passages in his life,' the Doctor went on,
thoughtfully, 'of such a kind as recur to the memory of sick and
dying men, when the good and evil deeds of our lives stand arrayed
before us like ministering spirits and threatening demons. Certain
passages, I say, which were intimately associated with myself. In-
deed, it cannot be that they entirely perished from bis lordship's
memory. Since he spoke not of them, let me not speak. I am
sorry, my lord, to have saddened you by thus recalling the thought
of your dead father.'

; ^ay, sir,' said Lord Chndleigli, ' to have met so old a friend of
my father's is a pleasure I did not expect. I humbly desire, sir,
your better acquaintance.'

The company during this long talk were mostly standing. It was
no new thing to meet a man of rank at the Doctor's, but altogether
new to have the conversation assume so serious a tone. Everyone
felt, however, that the dignity of the Doctor was greatly increased
by this event.

Then the Doctor waved bis hand, and resumed his cheerful ex-
pression.

_ 'Gentlemen,' he said, ' be seated all, I pray. My lord, your chaii
is at my right. Enough of the past. We are here to enjoy the
present hour, which is always with us and always Hying from us.
We crown it with flowers and honour it with libations : we sing its
presence with us : we welcome its coming, and speed its parting
with wine and song. So far are we pagans : join with us in these
heathen rites wherein we rejoice in our life and forget our mortality.
None but poets are immortal. Solomon — Solomon Stallabras, the
modern Apollo, the favourite of the Nine, we drink your health and
wish the long deferring of your immortality. Let us drink, let us
talk, let us be merry, let us while away the rosy hours.' He banged
the table with his fist and set the glasses clinking. Then he filled
a glass with punch and handed it to Lord Chudleigh. ' As for you,
Sir Miles,' he said, 'you may help yourself. Ah, tippler ! the blush
rf + he bottle is already on thy cheeks and its light is in thy eyes.

6

82 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Wherefore, be moderate at the outset. Eoger, thou villain, go order
another bowl, and after that more bowls, and still more bowls. I
am athirst : I shall drink continually : I shall become this night a
mere hogshead of punch. So will all this honourable company ; bid
the vintner beware the lemon and be sparing of the sugar, but liberal
with the clove and the nutmeg. This night shall be such a night
as the Rules have never before seen. Run, rogue, run !' Roger
vanished. ' Let me sing you, my lord, a song of my youth when
nymphs and shepherdesses ran in my head more than Hebrew and
theology.'

He sang in his rich, full, and musical voice, the following ditty :

' Cried the nymph, while her swain,

Sought for phrases in vain,
" All, Corydon, let me a shy lover teach ;

Your flowers and rings,

Your verses and things,
Are pretty, but dumb, aud I love a bold speech.

' " To dangle and sigh,
To stammer and cry,
Such foolishness angers us maidens in time :
And if you would please,
Neither tremble nor tease,
But remember to woo us with laughter and rhyme.

' " Go, hang up thy crook,
Change that sorrowful look,
And seek merry rhymes and glad sayings in verao s
Remember that Kitty,
Rhymes still unto pity,
And Polly takes folly for better or worse,

' " Come jocund and gay,

As the roses in May,
With a rolling leg and a conquering smile :

Forget not that mirth

Ever rhymes unto worth,
A-nd lucky the lover who laughs all the while." '

' I wrote the song,' said the Doctor, ' when it was the fashion to be
sighing at the feet of Chloe. Not that my song produced auy im-
pression on the fashion. Pray, my lord, is it the custom, nowadays,
to woo with a long face and a mournful sigh V

Lord Chudleigh laughed and put the question by.

' What do women care for lovers' sighs 'I I believe, gentlemen,
they like to be carried by assault. Who can resist a brave fellow,
all tire and passion, who marches to the attack with a confident
laugh and a gallant bearing 1 It is the nature of the sex to admire
gallantry. Therefore, gentlemen, put on your best ruffles, cock your
hats, tie your wigs, settle the angle of your swords, a^d on with a
hearty countenance.

I HE DOCTOR AT HOME. 83

' I rein ember, being then in Constantinople, and at a slave-market
•where Circassians were to be bought, there came into the plate as
handsome a young Turk as ever you might wish to set eyes upon.
Perhaps he was a poet, because wheu he had the slaves brought out
for his inspection, at sight of the prettiest and youngest of them
all, he fell to sighing just like an English gentleman in love. Pre-
sently there came in an old miller of lift)', who, without any sighs
or protestations, tugged out his purse and bought the slave, and
she went off delighted at having fetched so good a price and pleased
so resolute a fellow.'

The Doctor continued to pour forth stories of adventure and
experience, interspersed with philosophical maxims, lie told of
courts and cities as he saw them in the year 17:20, which was the
year in which he made the Grand Tour with the late Lord Chud-
leigh. He told old tales of Cambridge life. While lie talked the
company listened, drank, and smoked ; no one interrupted him.
Meanwhile he sent the punch about, gave toasts — with every glass a
toast, with every toast a full glass — and swore that on such a night
no one should pay but himself, wherefore let every man rift up.

' Come, gentlemen, we let the glasses flag. I will sing you another
eong, written for the good old days of Tom D'Urfey, when men
were giants, and such humble topers as ourselves would have met
with scant respect.

' Come, all ye honest topers, lend p,n ear, lend an ear,

While we drain the bowl and push the bottle round, bottle round ;
We are merry lads, and cosy, cosy here, cosy here ;

Though outside the toil and moil may resound, may resound.

' Let us drink reformation to mankind, to mankind ;

Example may they follow from our ways, from our ways :
And whereas to their follies they are blind, they are blind,
Their eyes may they open to their craze, to their craze.

1 For the miser all day long hugs his gold, hugs his gold ;
And the lover for his mistress ever sighs, ever sighs :
And the parson wastes his words upon his fold, upon his fold ;
And the merchant to the ledger glues his eyes, glues his eyes.

' But we wrangle not, but laugh, while we drink, while we drink ;

And we envy no man's happiness or wealth, or his wealth ;
We rest from toil and cease from pen and ink, pen and ink ;
And we only pray for liquor and for health, and for health.

1 Then the miser shall, like us, call for wine, call for wine :
And the lover cry for lemon and the bowl, and the bowl :
And the merchant send his clerks for brandy fine, brandy fine ;
And the parson with a bottle soothe his soul, soothe his soul

' And the rogue shall honest grow, o'er a glass, o'er a glass ;
And the thief shall repent beside a keg, beside a keg :
And enmity to friendship quickly pass, quickly pass ;
While good fellows each to others drink a peg, drink a peg.

«f— 9

84 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' All kill- joy envies then shall disappear, disappear ;

Contented shall we push the bottle round, bottle round ;
For 'tis cosy, topers all, cosy here, cosy here ;

Though outside the toil and moil may resound, may resound,'

Thus did the Doctor stimulate his guests to drink. As the night
wore on, one by one dropped away : some, among whom were Sir
Miles, dropped asleep ; a few lay upon the floor. As for Lord Chud-
leigh, the fiery liquor and the fumes of the tobacco were mounting
to his brain, but he was not, like the rest, overpowered. He would
have got up and gone away, but that the Doctor's voice, or his eyes,
held him to his place.

' I am thinking,' said the Doctor with a strange smile, ' how your
father at one time might have rejoiced to think that you should
come here. The recollection of his services to me must have soothed
his last moments. Would that I could repay them !'

Lord Chudleigh assured him that, so far as he knew, there was
nothing to repay, and that, if there had been, his father's wish
would certainly have been to forgive the debt.

' He could not forgive the debt,' said the Doctor, laughing. ' It
was not in his power. He would have owned the debt. It was not
money, however, but a kindness of quite another sort.'

' Then,' said Lord Chudleigh, prettily bowing, 'let me thank you
beforehand, and assure you that I shall be proud to receive any
kindness in return that you may have an opportunity to show me.'

' Believe me, my lord,' said the Doctor, ' I have the will if not
the power : and I shall not forget the will, at least.

' It is strange,' he continued,,' that he never spoke about his younger
days. Lord Chudleigh attracted to himself, between the age of
♦ive-and-twenty and thirty, the friendship and respect of many men,
like myself, of scholarship and taste, without fortune. He with
his friends was going to supply that defect, a promise which cir-
cumstances prevented him from fulfilling. The earthen vessel
swims merrily, in smooth water, beside the vessel of brass ; when a
storm rises it breaks to atoms. We were the earthen vessels, he
the brazen ; we are all broken to atoms and ground beneath the
heel. I, who almost alone survive, though sunk as low as any, am
yet not the least miserable, and can yet enjoy the three great bless-
ings of humanity in this age — I mean tobacco, punch, and the
Protestaut religion. Yet one or two of the earthenware pots sur-
vive : Judge Tester, for instance, a fellow whose impudence has
carried him upwards. He began by being a clown born and bred.
First he was sent to the Inns of Court, where he fell into a red
waistcoat and velvet breeches, and so into vanity. Impudence, I
take it, is the daughter of Vanity. As for the rest, a few fonud
their way to this classic region, on which Queen Elizabeth from the
Gate of Lud looks down with royal benignity ; but these are gone
and dead. One, I know, took to the road, and is now engaged in
healthful work Upon a Plantation of Maryland ; two were said to

THE DOCTOR A T HOME. 8j

have joined the Waltham Blacks, and lived like Lobin Hood, ou
venison shot in the forest, and other luxuries demanded of way-
farers pistol in hand ; one I saw not long ago equipped as a small-
coal man in blue surplice, his shoulder laden with his wooden tinder,
and his measure twisted into the mouth of his sack; uuothei,a
light-weight and a younger son, became a jockey, and wore ihe
'eathern cap, the cut bob, the buff breeches, and the fustian frovk,
till he was thrown and broke his neck. 1 laugh when I think of
what an end hath come to all the greatness of those days. Tube
sure, my lord paid for all and promised future favours ; but "«-e
were tine gentlemen on nothing, connoisseurs with never a guinea,
dilettanti who could not pay for the very eye-glasses we carried. In
the province of love and gallantry every man, beggar as he was,
thought himself a perfect Orooudates. We sang with taste ; we
were charming men, nonpareils. We had the tastes of men of
fortune; we talked as if the things we loved were within out-
reach ; we dreamed of pictures, bronzes, busts, intaglios, old chi .-■.,
or Etruscan paterae. And we had the vices of the great as weli :■■«
their tastes. Like them we drank ; like them we diced ; like them
we played all night at brag, all-fours, teetotum, hussle-cup, chuck-
farthing, hazard, lansquenet. So we lived, and so we presently
found the fate of earthen vessels. Heaven hath been kinder to
some of us than we deserve. Wherefore, gentlemen, drink about.'
Here the Doctor looked round him. ' Gentlemen, I perceive that I
have been for some time talking to a sleeping audience. Roger,
pour me out another glass. Swine of Circe, I drink to your head-
aches in the morning. Now, lads turn all out.'

CHAPTER XL

HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FRIENDS.

Those of the guests who had not already departed, were sitting or
lying asleep upon the floor or on the chairs. The last to sucjumb
had been Lord Chudleigh, not because his was the strongest head,
but because he had drunk the least and struggled the hardest not
to fall a victim to the punch. Sir Miles had long since sunk peace-
fully upon the floor, where he lay in oblivion, one of the men having
loosened his cravat to prevent the danger of apoplexy. Solomon
Stallabras, among whose vices was not included the love of strong
drink, was one of the earliest to depart ; the young Templar whom
the Doctor exhorted to virtue early in the evening, was now Ling
curled up like a child in the corner, his virtuous resolutions, if he
had ever formed any, forgotten. Others there were, but all were
crapulous, stupid, senseless, or asleep.

86 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

The Doctor stood over his victims, victorious. He had taken,
singly, more punch than any three of them together ; yet there they
all lay helpless, while he was steady of head and speech ; it was
past two o'clock in the morning ; the candles, low now, and nearly
spent, burned dim in the thick, tobacco-laden air ; the walls were
streaming with the heat generated by the presence of so many men
and so much drink. Roger, with the red nose and pale cheeks, still
stood stolidly at the door, waiting for the half-finished bowl and the
last orders ; beside him, his fellow-lackey and clerk William.

' Turn all out, Roger,' said the Doctor.

' Aye, sir/ said Roger.

Both men addressed themselves to the task. They were accus-
tomed to turn out their master's guests in this fashion. First, they
lifted the fallen form of Sir Miles, and bore him carefully to his
lodging ; then they carried out the young Templar and the others
who lay snoring upon the floor, and deposited them upon the stalls
of the market outside, where the fresh air of the night might he
expected to restore them speedily.

Meanwhile, Roger and William, for their better protection, would
themselves watch over them until such time as they should awake,
rise, and be ready to be led home with tottering step and rolling
gait, for such reward as the varlets might demand.

The Doctor's clerks had a hard life. They began to tout on Lud-
gate Hill and the Fleet Bridge at eight ; they fought for their couples
all the morning with other touts ; in the evening, they waited on
the Doctor's guests ; at midnight, they bore them iato the market ;
there they watched over them till they could be taken home. A
hard and difficult service. But there were few of the men about
the Fleet who did not envy a situation so well paid ; indeed, one
cannot but admire the hardness of men to whom a daily fight, with
constant black eyes, broken teeth, and bleeding nose, appears of such
slight imrjortj nee in the day's work, as not to be taken into account.

There reu. tned Lord Cbudleigh, who had fallen asleep in his
chair, and was the last.

' As for this young gentleman, Roger,' said the Doctor, ' carry him
upstairs and lay him upon my bed ; he is of different stuff. Do not
wake him, if you can help it.'

Nothing but an earthquake or an explosion of gunpowder could
have awakened the young man, so senseless and heavy was he.
They bore him up the stairs, the Doctor following ; they took off
his boots, his coat, and waistcoat, put on him the Doctor's nightcap,
and laid him in the bed.

All finished, the Doctor bade them drink off the rest of the punch,
and begone.

The Doctor, left quite alone, opened the windows and doors, and
stepped out into the market. At two o'clock on a cold October
morning, even that noisy place is quiet ; a west wind had driven
away the smoke, and the sky waa clear, glittering with innumerable

HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FKIEA'DS. 87

stars. The Doctor threw open his arms and took a deep breath of
the cold air, standing with his wig otF, so that the wind might
freshen his brain. Before him he saw, but he took no heed, the
helpless forms of his guests, lying on the stalls; beside them sat,
wrapped in heavy coats, his two serving-men, looking like vultures
ready to devour their prey, but for fear of their master, who would
infallibly cause them to be hanged.

After a few minutes in the open air, the Doctor returned to his
room ; he was sober, although lie had taken enough punch to make
ten men drunk ; and steady of hand, although lie had smoked so
much tobacco ; but the veins on his face stood out like pmpl"'",jrds,
his eyes were bloodshot, his great lips were trembling.

He did not goto bed, but lit a fresh pair of candles, and sat in
his chair thinking.

His thoughts carried him back to some time of trouble, for he
presently reached out his hand, seized his tobacco-pipe, and crushed
it in fragments; then he took the glass from which he had been
drinking, and crushed that, too, in his great strong lingers.

'I knew not,' he murmured, 'that the villain was dead. If I had
known that he was ill, I should have gone to see him, if only to re-
mind him, with a curse, of the past. He is dead ; I can never curse
him face to face, as I hoped to do. I did not think that he would
die before me ; he seemed stronger, and he was younger. I looked
to seek him out at any time, when I wanted a holiday, or when I
wanted a diversion. I thought I would take him in his own house,
and show him, in such words as only I can command, how mean a
creature he was, and what a treacherous cur. Now he is dead. He
actually never will be punished at all.'

This reflection caused him the greatest sadness. He shook his
head as he thought it over.

'It is not,' he said to himself, 'that I wished to be revenged on
him (though doubtless, as men are but frail, that desire entered
somewhat into my hopes), so much as that I saw in him a man who,
above most men, deserved to be punished. I break the law daily,
incurring thereby the penalty of a hundred pounds, which I never
pay, for each offence. Yet truly am I less burdened in my con-
science than should have been this Lord Chudleigh. And he hath
died in honour. In this world one man steals a pig, and receives
the approbation of his kind ; another looks over a wall, and is
clapped in gaol for it ; one man slaughters a thousand, and is made
a duke ; another kills one, and is hanged. I am in prison, who
never did anything against the law until I came here, nor harmed
any except my creditors. My lord, who thought the ten command-
ments made for creatures of baser blood, and the round world, with
all that therein is, only created for his own insatiable appetite, lives
in honour and dies— what can I tell ? — perhaps in grace ; fortified,
at least, with the consolations of the Church and the benedictions of
his chaplain. So all things seem matter of chance. As Solomon
Stallabras says, in one of hia fables :

88 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE fLEET

' " We little flies who buzz and die,
Should never ask the reason why." '

He yawned ; then, struck with a sudden thought, he took one of
the candles and softly mounted the stairs. Shading the light with
his hand, he looked upon the face of the young man sleeping on his
bed. A handsome young man, with regular features strongly
marked, delicate lips, and pointed chin.

' Truly,' said the Doctor, ' a youth of great beauty. Another
David. He is more handsome than his father, even in those young
days when he caressed me to my ruin, and led me on with promises
to my undoing. Yet he hath the trick of the Chudleigh lip, and he
hath his father's nose. Would that his father were alive, and that
it was he and not his son lying here at my mercy ! The son is some-
thing ; out of regard to his father's memory, he shall not get off
scot-free. But what is to be done ? There is nothing, I think, that
I would not do ' — his red face grew purple as he thought of his
wrongs — 'were his father living, and could I make him feel through
his son. Nothing, I believe. As I am a Christian man, if my lord
were alive this day, I think I could tie a stone round the boy's neck
and chuck him into the Meet Ditch at Holborn Bridge. And yet,
what a poor and miserable thing to do ! A moment of brutal satis-
faction in thinking of the father's agony — an eternity of remorse.
But his father is dead ; he cannot feel at all any more, whatever I
do. If I could ' — his face grew dark again, and he ground his teeth
— ' I believe I could drag the boy downwards, little by little, and
destroy his very soul, to make his father suffer the more.'

He gasped and caught his breath.

' Why,' he murmured, ' what is this ? It is well for men that they
are not led into temptation. This young lord hath fallen into my
hands. Good. What shall I do with him? He knows nothing.
Yet he must suffer something. It is the law. We are all under the
law. For the third and fourth generation — and he is only the first
generation. His children and his grandchildren will have to suffer
after him. It is not my fault. I am clearly carrying out the law.
He is providentially led here, not that I may take revenge upon
the son of my enemy for his father's wrong, but that he might
receive chastisement at my hands, being those of the fittest person,
even as Solomon was chosen to slay both Joab and Shimei. What
then shall I do \ The Reverend Gregory Shovel cannot murder
the boy ; that would be the common, vulgar thought of a Fleet
Market butcher or a hodman. Murder 1 A nauseous thought.'

He took up the candle and stole noiselessly down the stairs, as if
the thought had driven him from the place.

When he was back in his own room he began to walk up and
down, thinking.

' He is but a boy,' he said, ' a handsome boy ; 'twould be a sin to
harm him. Yet, being sent here as he is, in a way that can be no
other than providential, 'twould lie a fin to lot him go. How if J

HOW THE DOCTOR DISMISSED HIS FRIEXDS. 89

make him pay all my debts, and so leave the Liberties ami live re-
spectably ever after? Respectably !' he laughed ;i little. 'Why,
who would believe that the great Doctor Shovel could be respect-
able? The mud of this place, this dwelling beside a ditch, hath
entered into my soul as the iron of the chains enteveth into the soul
of the prisoner. My name is too deeply daubed with the Fleet mud ;
it cannot be cleansed. And should I give up my place I Should I
leave to another the honour 1 have won and the income T make
therefrom? Shall there be another Chaplain of the Fleet while I
survive? No; that will never do. flow could I live away from
this room wherein I wallow day and night t Here am I at mine
ease ; here I get wealth ; I cannot leave this place.'

He was in great perplexity. He wandered up and down ; he was
torn between his wrath against the father and his consciousness
tha*. it would be a mean and dreadful villainy to take revenge upon
the son.

I must have taken too much punch,' he said, 'thus to be agitated.
P nch, like wine, "is a mocker, strong drink is raging.'' The Chris-
tian should forgive ; the father is dead ; the lad is a handsome lad
and may be good. Besides, whatever I do to the boy, his sire will
neither know nor feel. I might as well suppose that the legs and
heads on Temple Bar feel what is said about them below. I am a
fool ; yet am I but a man. For such a crime even a saint would
feel a righteous wrath. Yet it is cowardly to take revenge upon the
son, the committer of the crime having gone to his own place. Yet
he is that man's son. "What then to do ?'

He turned the question over a thousand times, yet found no
auswer. At last a thought came to him. He nodded his head and
laughed aloud. Then he sought his arm chair, adjusted his ample
gown so as to get the greatest amount of comfort out of it, placed
his feet upon a stool, and folded his arms.

' I have taken at least a quart of punch more than is good for me.
That is most certain. Otherwise I should have known at once what
I should do. I have actually forgotten the peculiarities of my own
position. Which shows that I am neither so young nor so strong
as I have been. Perhaps the system wants a fillip. I will take a
dose of Norway tar-water to-morrow. But first, my lord, you shall
find out, early in the morning, why I am called the Chaplain of
the Fleet.'

CHAPTER XII.

HOW KITTY EXECUTED THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE.

The Doctor seldom transacted business before nine o'clock in the
morning, unless, as sometimes happened, a spirited apprentice, a lad
of mettle, came with his master's daughter, both stealing away at

go THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

seven, before the master and mistress were up, when she was sup-
posed to be attending morning prayers at church, or helping Molly
the maid with the mop, and he was expected to be cleaning out the
shop and dressing the window. The ceremony over, they would go
home again, but separately, young miss carrying her Prayer-book
before her as demure as a kitten, looking as if she had never heard
of a Fleet marriage, and was ignorant of the great Doctor Shovel,
chaplain, yea, bishop of that place ; while the boy, with brush and
broom and watering-can, would be zealously about his master's work
when that poor man — his morning dish of chocolate or pint of small
ale despatched — appeared in the shop for the conduct of the day's
affairs. Afterwards they could choose their own time for declaring
what had been done. Thus did the Doctor make or mar the fortunes
of many a bold prentice-boy.

This morning the Doctor awoke from sleep at seven or thereabouts,
having in four hours slept off the punch and tobacco in his arm-chair.
His face became almost benign in its thoughtful kindliness as he
remembered the guest lying asleep upstairs, and what he was about
to do for him. He rose, shook himself, opened the windows and
doors, and went out into the market, still in his nightcap, carrying
his wig in one hand and his silk handkerchief in the other.

The market was already crowded with purchasers, principally
those who buy a barrowf ul of fruit and vegetables, and bawl through
the streets until all is sold. But there was a good sprinkling of
maids and housewives buying provisions for the day. The morning
was fresh, with a litle autumn fog, and the sun shiniDg through it
like a great yellow disk ; the waggons stood about with their loads
of cabbages, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, apples, plums, and sloes,
waiting till they could be discharged ; on the heaped-up piles of
fruit and vegetables you could see hanging still the slender threads
and cobwebs which are spun every night in autumn time by in-
visible spiders, and appear in the morning strung with beads oi
dew.

' Stand aside !' cried the stall-keepers, one and all. ' Make way
for the Doctor ! Don't you see the Doctor % Room for the
Doctor !'

He walked magisterially to the pump, under which he held his
bare head for a few moments while a boy pumped the cold water
over him. This done, he shook his head, mopped his poll with his
silk handkerchief, clapped on his wig, and returned to his own house,
his robes majestically floating around him.

The market, proud of its Doctor, made way for him with saluta-
tions and inquiries after his reverence's health.

At the house he found his two runners waiting for him, as fresh
— if pale cheeks and red noses can look fresh — as if they had not
been up until two o'clock in the morning.

He sent for a pint of small ale, and began to consider what next.

'itoger,' he said, ' caiiKt thou, at the present moment, lay thy

THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 91

hand upon a woman willing to be a bride, either in the prison or
elsewhere V

Roger hesitated.

'It depends, yoar reverence, on the bridegroom. About Tower
Bteps, for instance, and down Wapping way, there are brides in
plenty to be picked up for the asking.'

'Not brides for me, Eoger. Think again. I want a bride who
wants a husband, and not a sailors money ; who will stick to her
husband and make him as happy in his wedded life as you and the
rest of mankind are or have been.'

Roger grinned, lie was himself a widower, and could be tickled
with the joke.

' I think I know the very woman,' he said. ' A young widow '

' Good,' said the Doctor.

' She has been extravagant, and is in debt '

'Very good,' said the Doctor.

'A prisoner in the Fleet ; but I can fetch her out in a twinkling,
for half-a-crown.'

'Ay— ay,' said the Doctor. 'Go on, honest Eoger. A widow,
extravagant, and in debt. That promises well.'

' Her husband was an honest draper in Gracechurcb Street, who
lately died of smallpox, leaving her a good business and a thousand
pounds in money. She hath already squandered the thousand,
wasted the business, and brought herself to ruin. She is comely,
and is but thirty years of age ;"to get out of the Fleet, I think she
would marry the '

' She shall marry better than that, Eoger. Go fetch her here :
tell her to come and talk with me, and that if she pleases me in her
conversation and appearance, she may shortly marry a gentleman.'

' This,' said the Doctor, -when his man was gone, ' will be a good
stroke of business. This shall be his punishment. My lord shall
marry this extravagant slut. No paltry common revenge this.
Just punishment for the first generation. He will gain a pocketful
of debts and a wife who will stick to him like a leech. Aha ! — a
city weuch — none of your proud city madams, grand enough to be
a countess — but a plain tradesman's widow, with no ideas beyond a
dish of tea, Bagnigge Wells, strawberries at Bayswater, cakes at
Chelsea, or at the best, a night of wonder-gaping at the quality at
"Vauxhall ; a wife of whom he will be ashamed from the very first.
This is good business. "What a pity ! what a thousand pities that
his nobie father is no more !'

The Doctor laughed and rubbed his hands. Then he mounted
the stairs again, and entered his bedroom. The lad was still sound
asleep ; his cheeks less red, and his breathing lighter.

' His head will ache,' said the Doctor. k I fear he is unaccustomed
to punch. When he wakes his limbs will feel like lead ; his throat
will feel like a limekiln ; his tongue will be furred like the back of
a squirrel ; his eyes will be hot and heavy, as if he had a fe.ve.r; hjs

92 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

baud will shake like the hand of a palsied man ; he will totter when
he tries to walk. Ah ! cursed drink ! Time was when I, who am
now as seasoned as a port-wine cask, or a keg of Nantz, would feel the
same when I awoke after such a night. Age brings its consolations.'
He rubbed his hands, thinking that he could now drink without
these symptoms. ' I will marry him,' he continued, ' while he is yet
half-drunk. When he recovers, it will be time to explain the posi-
tion of things. Should I explain, or should his wife ? Ho ! ho !
A draper's widow, of Gracechurch Street, to marry the heir of all
the Chudleighs !'

He stood over the bed again, and passed his hand lightly over
the sleeping boy's cheeks. Something in his looks touched the
Doctor, and his eyes softened.

' Poor lad ! I never had a son. Perhaps, if there had been one,
things would have been different. He is a very handsome boy.
Pity, after all, that he must marry this jade, this extravagant wench
who will waste and scatter his patrimony, and likely bring him to
shame, when, being so young, so handsome, and so rich, he might
have had the prettiest girl in the country — •' here he started —
' might have had — might have had — can he not have ? Is there a
prettier girl or a better-bred girl anywhere in the land than Kitty
Pleydell '.' What more can any man want '( She is of gentle blood
— on one side at least, for the Shovels, it is very certain, do some-
what smack of the soil. Never a Shovel, except the Reverend
Gregory Shovel, Doctor of Divinity, who hath risen to greatness.
Clods all. Here is a great chance for such a revenge as would have
driven, the old lord mad, and will be a blessing and a boon to the
young lord. Ho ! ho ! my Lord Breaker of Promises, my Lord
Trampler of Dependents, my Lord Villain and Rogue, how likes
your lordship that your son should marry my niece i As for you,
young spark, I will give you a bride so sweet, so fair, so fresh, that
by heavens ! you ought to woo her for a twelvemonth, and then go
and hang your foolish neck by a garter because she would not say
yea. Well, well ! let us return good for evil — let us still be Chris-
tians. Yet no Lord Chudleigh hath deserved to have any benefit
at my hands.'

He rubbed his hands: he laughed to himself, his shoulders rolling
from side to side : he nodded his head pleasantly at his victim, then
he went downstairs again, with grave and thoughtful mien. He
was thinking how best to bring about his purpose.

He found, however, waiting below, Roger, his man. With him
there came a woman dressed in shabby finery. She was a woman
of about thirty-two years of age, stout, and still comely ; she looked
about the room as if in search of some one ; her face was eager and
anxious. When she saw the Doctor, she put her handkerchief to
her eyes and burst, or pretended to burst, into tears.

' Alas, Doctor !' she cried, ' I am truly ashamed to come in such a
plight. But I have nothing else to put op. And Roger, good man,

THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 93

says that the gentleman will not wait. Who is the gentleman?
Surely not Thomas Humpage, the mercer, who always promised to
marry me when my husband should die, and now refuses because,
although a warm man, he will not take upon him the burden of my
poor debts. Alas ! men are ever thus towards us poor women.
Pray, Doctor, who is the gentleman ? Far be it from me to keep
the poor man waiting; and indeed, I was ever a pitiful woman,
and '

' You are under a little mistake, madam,' said the Doctor, inter-
rupting her. 'There is no gentleman here asking for you. Roger
is an ass, and a pig.'

Roger made no reply. Excess of zeal frequently led him into
mistakes. He stared straight before him, and modestly edged
away in the direction of the door, so as to be out of reach both of
the Doctor's fist, the weight of which he knew already, and the
lady's nails.

The poor woman's face fell, and real tears crowded into her eyes.
Now the Doctor was a man who could not bear the sight of a woman
crying, so he hastened to soothe her.

' Yonr case, madam,' he said, ' hath awakened my commiseration.
I have sent for you to know whether, should Roger be able to find
a suitable husband, you would be willing to take him.'

'Oh, Doctor !' she sobbed ; 'best of men ! If only you can find
me a husband, I should be grateful to the end of my days. I would
marry anyone— anyone — even Roger.'

Roger swiftly vanished through the door.

' He may be as old as Methusalem, and as ugly as a foreign
Frenchman, but I would marry him — to take my place in the prison
and go free once more.'

' Roger,' said the Doctor, ' is a great match-maker. He hath per-
suaded many couples into this room that never thought, when they
went out to take the air and see the shops, of coming here. See,
now, would the skipper of a merchant-man serve your turn V

'Doctor, I love a sailor. They make confiding husbands, and
they bring home money.'

'Once married, you are free. And then your creditors would
bave to catch your husband, who, if he is the handy tarpaulin
that deserves you, will show them a clean pair of heels otf the Nore.
Madam, I will do my best. Meanwhile, perhaps a guinea would be
of use to you.'

She cried in earnest a3 she took it.

'Oh, Doctor, the debts are not much altogether; a poor two
hundred pounds. And a man may always be happy in the prison.
There are skittles and beer. But a woman never can. And I would
go to see him sometimes — say twice a year.'

She went away weeping. But she stopped when she saw Eoger
outside the door, and held a few minutes' eager conversation with
him before she returned to her prison. Perhaps be found some

9+ THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

simple country lad or sailor who was beguiled into marrying her,
only to take upon him her debts, and to lie within four walls instead
of her. But indeed I know not.

We had finished our breakfast and were tidying the room : my
thoughts were full of the country that morning, because I had
dreamed of the old place and the garden with its yellow leaves, the
trailing cobwebs, banks covered with branches of mignonette, nas-
turtium eight feet long, pinks now mostly over, bending their faded
heads, and the larkspur, foxglove, Venus's looking-glass, bachelors'
buttons, mournful widow, boys' love, stocks, their glory over now,
their leaves withering and all run to seed. I was talking about
these sweet things with my ladies, when I heard the Doctor's voice
at the bottom of the stairs, bidding me quickly take my hat and
hood and run down to him, for that he needed me for half an
hour.

I obeyed, little thinking what was to follow. He said nothing,
but, by a gesture, bade me follow him.

When we came to his house, Roger and William, his two runners,
were waiting outside the door, and the room was set out in the usual
fashion, in readiness for any who might chance to call.

' You,' said the Doctor to the men, ' wait outside until I call you.
Stay, fetch a quart of ale at once.'

The ale brought, the men retired and shut the door.

' Kitty,' said my uncle, ' I have long intended to bestow upon
thee the greatest good fortune which it is in my power to procure.
Thou art a good girl : thou art my sister's child : thou hast shown a
spirit of obedience. I have reflected that it is not well for thee to
remain much longer in the Rules, and the only way to provide thee
with a home elsewhere, is to provide thee with a husband.'

' But, sir,' I said, beginning to be extremely terrified, ' I do not
want a husband.'

' So say all young maids. We, child, know what is best for them.
I could have found thee a husband among my friends. Sir Miles
Lackington, indeed, spoke to me concerning the matter ; he is a
baronet. The Lackingtons are an old family ; but he hath
squandered his fortune, and I cannot learn that any more money
will come to him. Besides, he drinks more than is befitting even in
a gentleman of title.'

' Oh, sir !' I cried, ' not Sir Miles.'

' No, Kitty ' — the Doctor smiled benevolently upon me — ' I regard
thy happiness first. No drunkard shall marry my niece. Mi'.
Stallabras hath also opened his mind upon thee ; he is an ingenious
man, with a pretty wit, and if verses were guineas, would be a great
catch for thee. But alas ! he hath no money, so I dismissed him.'

Poor Solomon ! That, then, was the reason of a late melancholy
which we had remarked in him. Mrs. Esther took it as caused by
the wrestling of genius, and sa»d that the soul within him was too
great for the b^Uy streoo rf h.

THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 95

'But, Kitty,' here the Doctor beamed upon me like the sun in
splendour, ' I have here — yea, even in this house, the husband (if my
choice, the man who will make thee happy. Start nut — it is resolved.
Child, obey me.'

I declare that I was so terrified hv the Doctor's words, so amazed
by his announcement, so spellbound by his words and manipT, that
I did not dare resist. JJad he told me that I was to be handed, I
could not have made an ellbrt to save myself.

'Obey me,' he repeated, bending his rye-brows, and looking upon
meno longer as a sun in splendour, but as an airjry judge might look
upon a criminal. 'Stand here — so — do not move; keep thy face
covered with thy hood, all but thine eves, (live me your hand
when I ask it, and be silent, save when I bid thee speak'. De not
afraid, girl ; I do this for thine own good. I give thee a gentleman
for thy husband. Thou shalt not leave this "place yet awhile, but
needs must that thou be married. I return in live minutes.'

He took the jug of beer and climbed the stairs. I meanwhile stood
where he had placed me, my hood over my head, in the most dread-
ful terror that ever assailed the heart of any girl.

_ Upstairs the Doctor awakened Lord Chudleigh with some
difficulty. He sat up on the bed and looked round him, wondering
where he was.

' I know now,' he murmured, ' you are Doctor Shovel, and thi3
is '

' Your lordship is in the Liberties of the Fleet.'

' My head is like a lump of lead,' said the young man.

' Your lordship was very merry last night, as, indeed, befits the
happy occasion.'

' Was I merry ? Indeed, I think I was very drunk. What
occasion V

' Drink a little small ale,' said the Doctor ; ' it will revive you.'

He took a long drink of the beer, and tried to stand.

' So,' he said, ' I am better already ; but my head reels, Doctor,
and my legs are unsteady. It serves me right. It is the first time,
and it shall be the last.'

I hope so, since your lordship is about to undertake so important
a charge.'

' What charge V asked Loid Chudleigh, still dazed and unsteady.
Is it possible that your lordship hath forgotten your mistress of
whom you would still* be talking last night. '? " The sweetest girl in
-England— the prettiest girl in all the "world— the fairest, kindest
nymph "—I quote your lordship.'

Lord Chudleigh stared in amazement.

' The sweetest girl 1— what girl V
Oh, your lordship is pleased to jest with rae. 1

_' I remember you, Doctor Shovel, whom I came to see last night
with Sir Miles Lackington ; I remember the punch and the songs j
but I remember nothing abcut auy airl.'

96 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

1 Why, she is downstairs now, waiting for your lordship. You
will come downstairs and keep your appointment.'

He spoke in a peremptory manner, as if ordering and expecting
obedience.

' My appointment 1 Have I gone mad ? It is this cursed punch
of yours. My appointment V

The Doctor gave him his coat and wig, and helped him to put
them on.

' I attend your lordship. She is downstairs. Take a little more
ale to clear your head : you will remember then.'

The young man drank again. The beer mounted to his brain,
I suppose, because he laughed and straightened himself,

' Why, I am a man again. An appointment ? No, Doctor, hang
me if all the beer in your cellar will make me remember any appoint-
ment ! Where is Sir Miles ? He might tell me something about it.
Curse all punch, I say. Yet, if the lady be downstairs, as you say,
I suppose I must have made some sort of appointment. Let me see

her, at any rate. It will be easy to — to ' here he reeled, and

caught hold of the Doctor's hand.

What a crime ! What a terrible wicked thing was this which we
did — my uncle and I ! I heard the steps on the stairs; I might have
run away ; the door was before me ; but I was afraid. Yes, I was
afraid. My uncle had made me fear him more than I feared the
laws of my God ; or, since that is hardly true, he made me fear him
so much that I forgot the laws of my God. I did not run away, but
I waited with a dreadful fluttering of my heart.

I held my hood, drawn over my head, with my left hand, so that
only my eyes were visible, and so I kept it all the time.

I saw in the door the most splendid young man I had ever seen ;
he was richly dressed, though his coat and ruffles showed some
disorder, in crimson coat and sash, with flowered silk waistcoat, and
sword whose hilt gleamed with jewels. His cheek was flushed and
his eyes had a fixed and glassy look ; the Doctor led him, or rather
half supported him. Was this young man to be my husband ?

Roger must have been watching outside, for now he came in and
locked the door behind him. Then he drew out his greasy Prayer-
book, standing by his lordship, ready to support him if necessary

' So,' he said, 'this is the sweetest girl in all England — hang me if
I remember ! Look up, my girl : let me see thy face. How can
I tell unless I see thy face V

' Silence !' said the Doctor in a voice of command.

I know not what strange power he possessed, but at the sound of
his voice the young man became suddenly silent and looked about
the room, as if wondering. For myself, I knew that I was to be
married to him ; but why ? what did it mean ?

The Doctor had begun the service. My bridegroom seemed to
understand nothing, looking stupidly before him.

Roger read the responses.

THE DOCTOR'S REVENGE. 97

The Doctor did not hurry ; he read the exhortation, the prayers,
the Psalms, through slowly and with reverence ; other Fleet parsons
scrambled through the service ; the Doctor alone knew what was
due to the Church ; he read the service as a clergyman who respects
the service ought to read.

'Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife V

The man .Roger gave the dazed bridegroom a jog in the ribs.

' Say " I will," ' he whispered loudly.

' I will,' said the young man.

' "Wilt thou,' the Doctor turned to me, ' have this man to thy
wedded husband V

Roger nodded to me. ' Pay " I will," ' he admonished me.

I obeyed ; yet I knew not what I said, so frightened was I.

' Who giveth,' the Doctor went on, ' this woman to be married to
this man V

The dirty, battered rogue, the clerk, took my hand and laid it in
that of the Doctor. I was given away by the villain Roger. Then
the service went on.

'With this ring' — the man's hand was holding mine, and it was
dry and hot ; his face was red and his eyes were staring — ' with this
ring I thee wed ; with my body I thee worship ; with all my
worldly goods I thee endow.'

Consider — pray consider — that when I took part in this great
wickedness, I was but a young girl, not yet seventeen years old ;
that the thing came upon me so suddenly that I had not the sense
to remember what it meant ; that my uncle was a man of whom
any girl would have been afraid. Yet I knew that I ought to
have fled.

When my bridegroom held my hand in his I observed that it was
hot and trembling ; his eyes did not meet mine ; he gazed upon the
Doctor as if asking what all this meant. I took him, in my
innocence, for a madman, and wondered all the more what this freak
of the Doctor's could mean.

For ring, the Doctor drew from his guest's little finger a diamond
ring, which was fuil large for my third finger.

When the service was finished, bride and bridegroom stood stupidly
staring at each other (only that still I wore my hood drawn over
my face), while Roger placed upon the table a great volume bound
in parchment with brass clasps.

'This, my lord, is our Register,' said the Doctor, opening it at a
clean page. ' Sign there, if you please, in your usual hand. I will
till in the page afterwards.'

De took the pen and signed, still looking with wondering eyes.

'Now, child,' said the Doctor, 'do you sign here, after your
husband. The certificate you shall have later. For the present, I
will take care of it. Other practitioners of the Fleet, my lord,' he
laid, with professional pride, as he looked at his great volume,

7

98 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' would enter your name in a greasy pocket-book and give your wife
a certificate on unstamped paper. Here you have a register fit for
a cathedral, and a certificate stamped with no less illustrious a name
than the Archbishop of Canterbury. Your lordship hath signed
your name in a steady and workmanlike fashion, so that none hence-
forth shall be able to malign your conduct on this day ; they shall
not say that you were terrified, or bribed, or were in a state of
liquor on the day of your marriage ; all is free and above suspicion.
I congratulate your lordship on this auspicious occasion. Eoger,
your mark here as witness. So. It is customary, my lord, to pre-
sent the officiating clergyman, royself, with a fee, from a guinea
upwards, proportionate to the rank and station of the happy bride-
groom. From your lordship will I take nothing for myself ; for
the witness I will take a guinea.'

Here the bridegroom pulled out his purse and threw it on the
table. He spoke not a word, however ; I think his brain was
wandering, and he knew not what he did. Yet he obeyed the
voice of the Doctor, and fell into the trap that was set for him, like
a silly bird allured by the whistle of the fowler, I am certain
that he knew not what he did.

The Doctor pulled one guinea from the purse, and handed it back
to the owner.

'Eoger/ he said, 'go drink his lordship's health ; and hark ye
— silence. If I hear that you have told of this morning's doings,
it shall be the worst day in all your life. I threaten not in vaiu.
Go!'

Then the Doctor took up the tankard of ale which stood in the
window-seat.

' Your health, my lord ;' he drank a little and passed it to his
lordship, who drained it ; and then, with a strange, wild look, he
reeled to the Doctor's arm-chair and instantly fell fast asleep.

' Your husband is not a drunkard, Kitty, though this morning he
appears in that light.'

' But am I married V I asked .

' You are really married. You are no longer Kitty Pleydell •
you are Catherine, Lady Chudleigh. I wish your ladyship joy.'

I stared at him.

' But he does not know me ; he never saw me,' I remonstrated.

' That he does not know you yet is very true,' replied the Doctor.
' When the fittiug time comes for him to know you, be sure that I
will remind him. For the present he shall not know whom he has
married.

' I perceive,' he went on, seeing that I made no reply, ' that thou
art a good and obedient child. Ask no questions of me. Say not
one word to anyone of this day's work. Be silent, and thou shalt
have thy reward. Remember — be silent. Now, go, child. Go,
Lady Chudleigh.'

HOW LORD CHUD LEIGH WOKE. 99

CHAPTEE XIII.

HOW LOED CHUDLEIGH WOKE OUT OF SLEEP.

Alas ! there was small pride in that thought. "What joy of being
Lady Chudleigh, when I had to pick my way home through the
dirty and crowded market, thinking of the pain and grief this
wicked thirig would cause my ladies when they learned it, of the
shame with which my father's soul would have been filled had he
known it, and the wrath of Lady Levett when she should hear it !
' Oh, Kitty !' I thought, ' how miserably art thou changed in four
short months ! In the happy fields at home, everything (save when
the rustics swore at their cattle) breathed of religion and virtue ;
in this dreadful place, everything leads to profligacy and crime.
And what a crime ! And the poor young gentleman ! Did ever
anyone hear the like, that a young girl, not yet quite seventeen,
should thus consent to marry a man whom she had never seen !
Oh, shame and disgrace ! And that young man, so handsome and
so gallant, albeit so tipsy that he could scarcely stand. Who would
have thought, four months ago, that Kitty would be that wicked
creature V Afterward n I thought of the dreadful wickedness of
marrying while still in mourning for a father not yet six months
dead. But I confess that at first, so confused was I, that this
thought did not oppress me. Indeed, there was almost too much to
think about. Suppose I was, by a careless word, to reveal the
secret ! Suppose the rascal Roger were to tell it abroad in the
market ! Suppose the young man (whose name I did not dare to
pronounce) were to see me, and find my name ! Suppose the
Doctor were at once to reveal to my — husband, I suppose I ought
to call him — who and what I was ! All these thoughts, I say,
crowded into my mind together, and filled me with repentant
terrors.

I went straight home, because there was no other place to go to.
Mrs. Deborah reminded me, when I had taken off my hood, that
we were still engaged upon the long-outstanding account between
Richard Roe, gentleman, and Robert Doe, draper. It was one of
the problems of the Book-keeping Treatise, how rightly to state
this account to the satisfaction both of Doe (who wanted all he
could get), and of Roe (who wanted to pay as little as possible). I
remember that Richard Roe had not only bought extraordinary
things (for a gentleman), such as ladies' hoops and paniers, but had
bought them in immense quantities, to be explained, perhaps, by
the supposition that he was a benefactor to the female sex, or per-
haps that he was shipping things to Madagascar, where I believe a
sarsnet pinner, if in scarlet, is considered worth a diamond as big
as a pigeon's egg ; and a few bottles of eau de Chypre are thought
a bargain, if purchased by a ruby weighing a pound or so.

7—2

ioo THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

We had teen engaged for a month upon a statement of the ac-
count showing the exact liabilities of Richard Eoe (who used to pay
in odd sums, with pence and farthings, at unexpected times) ; we
never got it right, and then we began again. Fortunately, it costs
nothirig to clean a slate.

I sat down to this task with listless brain. What girl, after
being so suddenly hurled into matrimony, with the possession of so
great a secret, could take any interest in the debts of Richard Roe ?
The figures got mixed ; presently, I was fain to lay the slate aside,
and to declare that I could do no more that day

Nor, indeed, could I do anything — not even hear what was said,
so that my ladies thought I was sickening for some fever ; which
was not improbable, fever being rife at this time, owing to the
smell from the vegetables, and one of the little Dunquerques in our
own. house down with it. Ah ! could they only have guessed the
truth, what sorrow and pity would have been theirs, with what
righteous wrath at the sin !

When I was gone, the Doctor called back Roger, and they carried
the unhappy bridegroom again to the bedroom, where they laid him
on the bed and then left him to himself,

'He will sleep,' said the Doctor, experienced in these cases, 'until
the afternoon. Have a cup of mutton-broth for him when he wakes,
with a pint of small ale.'

Then he returned, and the ordinary business of the day began.
The couples came in— half-a-dozen of them. One pair gave him live
guineas. They were an Irishman, who thought he was marrying a
rich widow ; and a woman head over ears in debt, who thought she
was marrying a wealthy squire. A week afterwards the unhappy
bridegroom came to the Doctor to undo the match, which was im-
possible. He escaped his wife's creditors, however, and took to the
road, where, after many gallant exploits, he was caught, tried, and
hanged at Tyburn, making a gallaut and edifying end, and ruffling
it bravely to the very foot of the ladder. The day, therefore, was
profitable to the Doctor.

' Well begun, Roger,' he said, ' is well done. The morning's work
is worth ten guineas. I would rest this afternoon ; wherefore, brinq
no more couples. Yet one would fain not disappoint the poor
creatures. Let them come, then, Roger. We may not weary iu
well-doing. And, hark ye, take this guinea to Mistress Dunquerque
—not the captain, mind — and bid her spend it for the children ;
and inquire whether Mr. Stullabras hath paid his rent lately ; if
not, pay it ; and buy me, ou Ludgate Hill, a hat and feathers for
Miss Kitty ; and, varlet ! if thou so much as breathe of what was
done here this morning — I threaten not, but I know the history of
thy life. Think of the past ; think of Newgate, close by ; and be
silent as the grave.'

At three o'clock in the afternoon, when the Doctor, after his

HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 101

dinner, sat over a cool pipe of Virginia, Lord Chudleigh came down-
stairs. He was dressed and in his right mind, although somewhat
flushed of cheek and his hand shaky.

' Doctor Shovel,' he said, ' I thank you for your hospitality, and
am sorry that I have abused it. I am ashamed to have fallen into
so drunken and helpless a condition.'

'Your lordship,' sa-id the Doctor, rising and bowing, 'is welcome
to such hospitality as this poor house of a prisoner in the Liberties
of the Fleet can show a nobleman of your rank. I am the more
bound to show this welcome to your lordship, because, for such as
is my condition, I am beholden to the late Lord Chudleigh.'

This was a speech which might have more than one meaning.
His lordship made no answer, staring in some perplexity, and fearful
that the punch might still be in his head.

' It was in this room,' he said presently, ' that we drank last night.
I remember your chair, and these walls ; but I remember little
more. Fie, Doctor ! your way of treating guests is too generous.
Yet I have had a curious and uneasy dream. Those books ' — he
pointed to the Eegister and the Prayer-book — 'were those upon
the table last night ? They were in my dream — a very vivid and
real dream. I thought I was standing here. Your man was beside
me. Opposite to me was a girl, or woman, her face and figure
covered with a hood, so that 1 knew not what she was like. Then
you read the marriage-service, drew the ring from off my finger, and
placed it upon hers. And you pronounced us man and wife. A
strange and interesting dream !'

' What was the ring, my lord V

' A diamond ring, set round with seven pearls ; within, the crest
of my house, and my initials/

' Let me see the ring, my lord.'

He changed colour.

' I cannot find it.'

' My lord, I know where is that ring.'

The Doctor spoke gravely, bending his great eyebrows. Lord
Chudleigh was a man of fine presence, being at least five feet ten
inches in height, without counting the heels of his boots and the
foretop of his wig. Yet the Doctor, whose heels were thicker and
h is toupee higher, was six feet two without those advantages. There-
fore he towered over his guest as he repeated :

' I know where to tiud that ring !'

' You cannot mean, Doctor ' cried Lord Chudleigh, all tho

blood flying to his face.

' I mean, my lord, simply this, that at eight o'clock this morning,
or thereabouts, you rose, came downstairs, met a young lady who
was waiting for you, and were by me, in presence of trustworthy
witnesses, duly and properly married.'

' i>ut it was a dream !' he cried, catching at the table.

' No dream at all, my lord, A fact, which yon will find it diffi-

102 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

cult to contradict. Your marriage is entered in my Register ; I
have the lines on a five-shilling stamp. I am an ordained minister
of the Church of England ; the hours were canonical. It is true
that I may be fined a hundred pounds for consenting to perform the
ceremony ; but it will be hard to collect that money. Meanwhile,
those who would inflict the fine would be the last to maintain that
sacerdotal powers, conferred upon me at ordination, can suffer any
loss by residence in the Eules of the Fleet. Ponder this, my lord.'

' Married !' cried Lord Chudleigh. ' Married ? It is impossible.'

' Your dream, my lord, was no dream at all, but sober truth, be-
lieve me.'

' Married V he repeated.

' Married,' said Doctor Shovel. ' I fear that your state of mind,
during the performance of the ceremony, was not such as a clergy-
man could altogether wish to see. Still, who am I, to decide when
a gentleman is too drunk to marry V

' Married ! Oh, this is some dreadful dream ! Where is my bride 1
Show me my wife !'

' She is gone, Lord Chudleigh.'

' Gone ! Where is she gone V

The Doctor shook his head for an answer.

' Who is she ? What is her name 1 How came she here V

1 1 am sorry that I cannot answer your lordship in these particu-
lars. She came — she was married — she went away ! In her own
good time she will doubtless appear again.'

' But who is she V he repeated. ' What is she like ? Why did
&he marry me V

' Why did your lordship marry her ? That, methinks, would be
the proper question.'

'Show me your Register, man!' Lord Chudleigh was sober
enough now, and brought his fist down upon the table in peremptory
fashion. ' Show me your Register and your certificate !'

' Ta ! ta ! ta !' cried the Doctor. ' Softly, young man, softly !
We are not used to threats in this chapel-of -ease, where I am arch-
bishop, bishop, and chaplain, all in one. For the Register, it is
securely locked up; for the certificate, it is perhaps in the hands of
Lady Chudleigh.'

'Lady Chudleigh !'

' Perhaps her ladyship hath consigned it to my keeping. In either
case, you shall not see it.'

' This is a conspiracy,' cried Lord Chudleigh. ' I have been de-
ceived by rogues and knaves ! This is no true marriage.'

' You would say that I am lying. Say so, but, at your peril, think
bo. You are as truly married as if you had been united in your
own parish church, by your own bishop. Relieve that, for your own
safety, if you believe nothing else. At the right time, her ladyship
will be revealed to you. And remember, my lord ' — here the Doctor,
towering over him ? shook his great fore-finger in warning or menaca

HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WOKE. 103

— ' should you attempt another marriage in the lifetime of your
present wife, you shall be brought to your trial for bigamy as sure
as my name is Gregory Shovel. Laws, in this country, are not alto-
gether made for the punishment of the poor, and even a peer may
not marry more than one woman.'

' I will have this wickedness exposed,' cried his lordship, hotly.

' Alas ! my lord/ said the Doctor, ' the name of Gregory Shovel
is already well known. I am but what your father caused me to be.'

' My father ! Then there is revenge. The benefits which my

father conferred upon you '

' They were greater than any I can confer upon you. He kept
me with him as his private jester. I found him wit : he tfed me
upon promises. He turned me forth, to be flung into a debtor's
prison. That, however, was nothing. Your lordship will own' —
here the Doctor laughed, but without merriment — 'that I have
returned good for evil ; for, whereas your father robbed me of a,
wife, I have presented you with one.'

' O villain !' cried my lord. ' To revenge the wrongs of the father
upon the son — and this wretch continues to wear the gown of a
clergyman !'

' Say what you please. So rejoiced am I with this day's work
that I allow you to cast at me what names come readiest to your
tongue. But remember that curses sometimes come home.'

' Where is my wife, then V he demanded furiously.

' I shall not tell you. Meantime, choose. Either let this matter
be known to all the world, or let it remain, for the present, a secret
between you and me. As for the lady, she will be silent. As for
the rogue, my clerk, if he so much as breathes the secret to the
cabbage-stalks, I have that which will hang him.'

' I want to see the woman who calls herself my wife,' he persisted.

' That shall you not. But perhaps, my lord, you would like to go
home to St. James's Square with such a wedding-party as we could
provide for you : a dozen of Fleet parsons fuddled ; the bride's
friends, who might be called from their stalls in the market ; the
music of the butchers, with salt-boxes, marrow-bones, and cleavers ;
the bride herself. Look out of the window, my lord. Which of the
ragged baggages and trollops among the market-women most takes
your lordship's fancy V

Lord Chudleigh looked and shuddered.

'Go your way,' the Doctor went on, 'and always remember you
have a spouse. Some day, for the better glorifying of your noble
name, I will produce her. But not yet. Be under no immediate
apprehension. Not yet. At some future time, when you are happy
in the applause of a nation and the honours of a sovereign, when your
way is clear before you and your conscience gives you the sweet balm
of approbation, when you have forgotten this morning, we shall come,
your wife and I, with "Boom for my Lady Chudleigh ! Way there for
her ladyship and Doctor Gregory Shovel from the Bules of the Fleet !" '

io4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

i Man,' replied Lord Chudleigh, ' I believe you are a devil. Dc
what you will ; do your worst. Yet know that the woman may
proclaim her infamy and your own ; as for me, I will not speak to
her, nor listen to her, nor own her.'

' Good !' said the Doctor, rubbing his hands. ' We talk in vain.
I now bid farewell to your lordship. Those convivial evenings
which you desired to witness will still continue. Let me hope to
welcome your lordship again on the scene of your unexpected
triumphs. Many, indeed, is the man who hath come to this house
single and gone out of it double ; but none for whom awaits a
future of such golden promise. My most hearty congratulations on
this auspicious and joyful event ! What can come out of this place
but youth, beauty, birth, and virtue ? And yet, my lord, there is
one singularity in the case. One moment, I pray ' — for Lord Chud-
leigh was already outside the door — 'you are the only man I ever
knew who spent his honeymoon — alone !'

CHAPTER XIV

HOW MH3. DEEOEAH WAS EELEASED.

No one would be interested to read more of my shame and repent-
ance at that time ; nor does it help to tell how the Doctor was
asked by my ladies if I was subject to any kind of illness for which
I might be sickening. The reply of the Doctor to them, and his
private admonitions to myself, may be partly passed over ; it was
true, no doubt, as he said while I trembled before him, that a young
girl, ignorant and untaught, would do well to trust her conscience
into the spiritual direction o-f a regularly ordained clergyman of the
Church of England like himself. As for the marriage, I was to re-
member that it was done and could not be undone. He hung round
my neck by a black ribbon the diamond ring, my wedding-ring, by
which to keep my condition ever before myself ; to be sure it was
not likely that I should forget it, without the glitter and sparkle of
the brilliants, which I used to look at night and morning in secret.
What did he think of me, this husband of mine, the young man with
the handsome face, the white hands, and the fixed, strange eyes ?
Did he. night and morning, every day curse his unknown wife ?

' Let him curse,' said the Doctor. ' Words break no bones ; curses
go home again ; deeds cannot be undone. Patience, Kitty ! before
long thou shalt be confessed by all the world, the Lady Chudleigh.
Come, cheer up, child !' he concluded kindly. ' As for what is done, it
is done. Partly I did it to clear off an old score, whereof I may perhaps
tell thee at another time, and partly for thy honour and glory. Thy
father, Kitty, was proud of his name and family, though he married
my sister, the daughter of a tenant farmer ; but never a Pleydell

HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 105

yet has been lifted up so high as thou shalt be : while as to the
Shovels, 1 am myself the only great man they have yet sent into the
world, and they are not likely to go beyond the Chaplain of the
Fleet.'

Then he held up his great forefinger, as long and thick as a school
ruler, bent his shaggy eyebrows, and pushed out his lips.

' Remember, child, silence ! And go no more moping and sonow-
ful, because thou shalt soon sit in thine own coach, with the world
at thy feet, singing the praises of the beautiful Lady Chudleie.li.
Such a girl as my Kitty for Sir Miles Lackington I Why, he hath
eyes for the beauty of a glass of Bordeaux— he hath sense to rejoice
over a bowl of punch ; but from Helen of Troy or Cleopatra of
Egypt he would turn away for a bottle of port. Or Stallabras,
now— should such a creature as he presume to think of such a
woman? Let poets sing of women at a distance — the farther off
the better they sing— that is right. Why, child, such curls as thine,
such roses of red and white, such brown eyes, such lips and cheek
and chin, such a figure as thou canst show to dazzle the eyes of
foolish boys— Lord Chudleigh should go on his knees before me in
gratitude and transport. And, believe me, some day he will.'

We are all alike, we womeu. Call us beautiful, and you please
ub. It was almost the first time that anyone had called me beautiful
save Sir Miles Lackington when in his cups, or Solomon Stallabras
in his poetic way. Yet every pretty girl knows that she is pretty.
There are a thousand things to tell her : the whispers of the
women, the sideloug looks of the folk in the streets, the envy of
envious girls, the praise of kindly girls, her glass, the deference paid
by men of all classes and all ages to beauty, the warnings of teachers,
nurses, governesses, and matrons that beauty is but skin-deep,
virtue is better than looks, handsome is as handsome does, 'tis better
to be good than pretty, comeliness lasts but a year, while goodness
lasts for ever, and so on — all these things make a girl on whom
heaven has bestowed this most excellent gift of beauty know quite
as well as other people what she possesses, though she knows not
yet the power of the gift.

' You are pretty, child,' said Mrs. Esther to me on the very same
day as the Doctor. ' You will be a beautiful woman.'

'Which is no good to a girl in the Euies,' said Mrs. Deborah,
' but rather a snare and a danger.'

r ' Nay, sister,' said Mrs. Esther, ' it is a consolation to be beautiful.
You, dear, when we were thirty years younger, were beautiful
enough to melt the heart even of the monster Bambridge.'

'A beautiful face and person,' Mrs. Deborah added with a smile
on her poor face as she thought of the past, 'should belong to a good
and virtuous soul. In the better world I have no doubt that the
spirits of the just will arise in such beauty of face and form as shall
be unto themselves and their friends an abiding joy.'

Let us think so : when I die it may be a consolation to me that

106 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

a return to the beauty of my youth is nigh at hand. I am but a
woman, and there is nothing in the world — except the love of my
husband and my children — that I think more precious than my past
beauty.

Soothed, then, by my uncle's flatteries, comforted by his promises,
and terrified by his admonitions, I fell in a very few days into the
dreams by which youth beguiles the cares of the present. My husband,
Lord Chudleigh, would go his own way and never ask after me ; I
should go mine as if he did not exist ; some time or other we should
leave the Liberties of the Fleet, and go to live near Lady Levett
and my dear Nancy. As for the coronet and the rank, I was too
ignorant to think much about them. They were so high above me,
I knew so little what they meant, that I no more thought of getting
them than of getting David's harp and crown. I waited, there-
fore, being a wife and yet no wife, married and yet never seen by my
husband ; sacrificed to the wrath of the Doctor, as that poor Greek
maiden in the story told me by my father, murdered at Aulis to ap-
pease the wrath of a goddess.

Two events happened which, between them, quite drove the mar-
riage out of my mind, and for awhile made me forget it altogether.

The first of these was the illness of Mrs. Deborah.

There was fever about the market, as I have said ; one of the
little girls of Mrs. Dunquerque, in our house, was laid down with
it. In autumn there was always fever in the place, caused, my
ladies said, by the chill and fog of the season, by the stench of the
vegetables and fruit of the market, and perhaps by the proximity of
Newgate, where gaol fever was always cheating the gallows. One
day, therefore, Mrs. Deborah lay down, and said she would rather
not get up again any more. She would not eat, nor would she have
any medicine except a little tar-water which seemed to do her no
good. When she got very ill indeed, she consented to see an
apothecary ; he prescribed blood-letting, which, contrary to expec-
tation, made her only weaker. Then we went to the old woman who
kept a herb shop at the other end of Fleet Lane, and was more
skilful than any physician. She gav^e us feverfew, camomile, and
dandelion, of which we made hot drinks. As the patient grew
worse instead of better, she made an infusion of shejuherd's-purse,
pennycress, and pepperwort, to stimulate the system ; she brought
a tansy-pudding, which poor Mrs. Deborah refused to eat ; and
when gentian water failed, the old woman could do no more.

On the fifth day, Mrs. Deborah gave herself up, and contemplated
her end in a becoming spirit of cheerfulness. She comforted her
sister with the hope that she, too, would before long join her in a
world ' where there is no noise, my dear, no fighting, no profane
swearing, no dirt, no confusion, no bawling, no starving, no
humiliation. There shall we sit in peace and quiet, enjoying the
dignity and respect which will be no doubt paid to two Christian
gentlewomen/

HOW MRS. DEBORAH WAS RELEASED. 107

' I might have known it,' sighed poor Mrs. Esther in her tears.
'Only a week ago a strange dog howled all night below our
window. I should have known it for a warning, sent for you, my
dear, or me, or for Kitty. It cannot have been meant for Sir
Miles, for the poor gentleman, being in his cups, would not notice
it : nor to Mr. Stallabras, for he sets no store by such warnings.'

'It was for me,' said Mrs. Deborah with resignation, while JNlrs.
Esther went on recollecting omens.

' Last night I heard the death-watch. Then, indeed, sister, I gave
you up.'

'It was a message for me,' said the sick woman, as if she had
been Christiana in the story.

' And this morning I heard a hen crow in the market— a hen in a
basket. Alas ! who can have any doubt V

'It i3 but six weeks,' said Mis. Deborah, feebly, 'since a hearse
on its way to a funeral stopped before our door. 1 remember now,
but vie little thought then, what that meant.'

' I saw, only a fortnight ago,' continued Mrs. Esther, ' a winding-
sheet in the tallow. I thought it pointed at E'.tty, but would not
frighten the child. Sister, we are but purblind mortals.'

Far be it from me to laugh at beliefs which have so deep a root
in Englishwomen's hearts : nor is it incredible to those who believe
in the divine interference, that signs and warnings of death should
be sent beforehand, if only to turn the thoughts heavenward and
lead sinners to repent. But this I think, that if poor Mrs. Deborah
had not accepted these warnings for herself, she might have lived on
to a green old age, as did her sister. Being, therefore , convinced in
her mind that her time was come, she was only anxious to make due
preparation. She would have been disappointed at getting wdl, as
one who has packed her boxes for a long journey, but is told at the
last moment that she must wait.

As she grew weaker, her brain began to wander. She tahW of
Bagmgge Wells, of Cupid's Garden, the entertainments oi her
father's company, and the childish days when everything was ';ope-

,„ Wni l e she talked, Mrs. Esther wept aud whispered to nw :

' She was so pretty and merry ! Oh ! child, if you could have
seen us both in our young days — if you could have seen my Deborah
with her pretty saucy ways ; her roguish smile, her ready wit made
all to love her ! Ah ! me — me— those happy days ! and now ! My
dear Deborah, it is well that thou should st go.'

This was on the morning of Mrs. Deborah's last day in life. In
the afternoon her senses returned to her, and we propped her up,
pale and weak, and listened while she spoke words of love and
farewell to be kept sacred in the memory of those who had to go on
living.

' For thirty yeara, dear sister,' she murmured, while their two
thin hands were held in each other's clasp — ' for thirty years we hava
prayed daily unto the Lord to have pity upon all prisoners and

io8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

captives, meaning, more especially, ourselves, Now, unto me bath
He shown this most excellent mercy, and calleth me away to a much
better place thnn we can imagine or deserve. I had thought it
would be well if He would lead us out of this ward to some place
where, in green lanes and fields, we might meditate for a space in
quiet before we died. I should like to have heard the song of the
lark and seen the daisies. But God thiuks otherwise.'

' Oh, sister — sister !' cried Mrs. Esther.

'"There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying,
ne'lher shall there be any more pain,"' said Mrs. Deborah. 'Kitty,
child,' she turned her pale face to me, ' be kind to my sister.'

We wept together. Outside there was the usual tumult of the
market — men buying and selling, with shouts and cries ; within,
three women weeping, and one dying.

' Go, dear,' said she who was dying ; ' call the Doctor. He hath
been very generous to us. Tell him I would receive the last offices
from his hands.'

The Doctor came. He read the appointed service in that deep
voice of his, which was surely given him for the conversion of the
wicked. The tears streamed down his face as he bent over the bed,
saying in the words of the Epistle appointed: '"My daughter,
despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou
art rebuked of Him. For whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth ;
and scourgeth every child whom He receiveth."'

In the evening the poor lady died, being released from her long
imprisonment by that Eoyal Mandate, the Will of God.

We buried her in the green and pleasant churchyard of Islington.
It is a sweet spot, far removed from the noise of London ; and
though her poor remains feel nothing, nor can hear any more the
tumult of crowds, it is good to think that round her are no streets,
oaly the few houses of the village. She lies surrounded by fields
and trees ; the daisies grow over her grave, the lark sings above the
church : she is at rest and in peace.

CHAPTER XV.

HOW MBS. ESTIIJSB WAS DISCHARGED.

After poor Mrs. Deborah's death my lessons came to a sudden stop,
and have never been resumed. Some of that perspicacity of style
which I have often admired in our modern divines might have
fallen to my lot, to enrich this narrative, had I continued in my
course of single and double book-keeping.

' I am not clever,' said Mrs. Esther, ' like Deborah. She was
always the clever one as well as the beauty. That gave her a right
to her little tempers, poor dear. I cannot teach astronomy, because

HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 109

one star is to me exactly like another. Nor do I know aught about
book-keeping, except that it is a very useful and necessary science.
Therefore, Kitty, thou must go untaught. For that matter, I think
you know as much as a woman need ever know, which is to road, to
write — but one ought not to expect of a woman such exactness in
spelling as of a scholar — and to cipher to such a moderate degree as
may enable her to add up her bills. But it grieves me to think you
are growing up so tall and straight without learning how to make
so much as a single cordial, or any strong waters. And with our
means, what chance of teaching you to toss a pancake, fold an ome-
lette, or dish a Yorkshire pudding V

It was then that we began to console ourselves fur my ignorance,
our troubles, and even, I bear miud, for our late loss, by reading
' Clarissa,' a book which the Doctor, ever watchful in the interests
of virtue, presented to Mrs. Esther with a speech of condolence.
He said that it was a work whose perusal could not fail most
strongly to console her spirit and to dispose her for resignation ;
while for purity of morals, for justice of observation, and for know-
ledge of the human heart, it was unequalled in any language. He
then made a digression, and compared the work with the ancient
Greek romances. Adventure, he said, was to be found in Helio-
dorus, and the story told by Apuleius of Cupid and Psyche was ex-
quisitely pathetic ; yet none of the earlier writers could be compared,
or even named in the same breath, with Mr. Richardson, who re-
minded him especially of Sophocles, in the tenderness with which
he prepared the minds of his audience for the impending tragedy
which he could not alter or abate, seeing that it was the will of
Necessity. There was nothing, he went on to say, more calculated
to inspire or to strengthen sentiments of virtue in the breasts of the
young — and especially in the young of the feminine sex— than a
contemplation of Clarissa's virtue and Lovelace's wickedness. We
were greatly edified by these praises, coming from so great a scholar
and one so eminently fitted to discourse on virtue. We received the
work, prepared (so far as I was concerned) to partake of food for
reflection of the satisfying kind (so that the reader quickly lays
aside the work while he meditates for a few days on wdiat be has
read) which is supplied by the pious ' Urelincourt on Death.'
Hervey's 'Meditations among the Tombs,' or Young's 'Night
Thoughts.' ° '

'After dinner, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, 'you shall read it aloud
to me. Do not stop if I shut my eyes in order to hear the better.
These good books should be carefully listened to, and read very
slowly. Otherwise their lessons may be overlooked, and this would
be a sad pity after all the good Doctor's trouble in first reading the
book for us. What scholarship, Kitty ! and what a passion, nay,
what an ardour, for virtue animates that reverend heart !'

1 cannot but pause here to ask whether if Mr. Richardson had
choyeii to depict to the life the character of a clergyman, who had

no THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

fallen into such ways as my uncle, with his sins, bis follies, his de-
gradation, the Doctor would himself have laid it to heart 1 Alas !
I fear not. We know not ourselves as we are : we still go dreaming
we are something better than we seem to others : we have a second
and unreal self : the shafts of the satirist seem to pierce the hearts
of others. I am sure that many a Lovelace, fresh from the ruin of
another Clarissa (if, indeed, there could be another creature so in-
comparable), must have read this great romance with tears of pity
and indignation. Otherwise the race of Lovelaces would loDg since
have become extinct.

We received, therefore, ' Clarissa,' expecting edification, but not
joy. We even put it aside for a week, because Mrs. Esther hardly
felt herself, at first, strong enough to begin a new book, which
might flood her mind with new ideas and make her unsettled. At
last, however, she felt that we must no longer postpone obeying the
Doctor.

' Only a short chapter, my dear, to begin with. Heavens ! how
shall we struggle through eight long volumes V

I shall be ever thankful that it was my duty to read these dear
delightful pages of this great romance. You may judge of our joy
when we read on, day after day, hurrying over household work iu
the morning, neglecting our walks abroad, and wasting candlelight
in the evening the more to enjoy it. We laid aside the book from
time to time while we wept over the author's pathetic scenes. Oh,
the horrid usage of poor Clarissa ! Was ever girl more barbarously
served 1 Was ever man so wicked as her lover ? Were parents
ever so blinded by prejudice 1 Had girl ever so unkind a brother —
ever so perverse a sister] I thought of her all day long, and at
night I dreamed of her : the image of Clarissa was never absent
from my brain.

Everything in the book was as real to me as the adventures of
Robinson Crusoe or those of Christian on his pilgrimage from the
City of Destruction. So long as the reading of this immortal book
lasted — we read page after page twice, thrice, or four times over, to
get out of them the fullest measure of sympathy, sorrow, and delight
— we loved with Clarissa : her sorrows were ours : we breathed and
talked Clarissa : Mrs. Esther even prayed, I believe — though the
book was already printed, and therefore it was too late for prayer —
that the poor, sweet innocent might escape the clutches of her wicked
lover, who, sure, was more a demon than a man : we carried the
thought of Clarissa even to church with us.

We invited our friends to share with us this new-found joy.
Solomon Stallabras was always ready to weep with us over a dish
of tea. Never any man had a heart more formed for the tenderest
sensibility. Pity that his nose was so broad and so much turned
up, otherwise this natural tenderness might have been manifested
in his countenance. While I read he gazed upon my face, and was
fain, from time to time, to draw forth his handkerchief and wipe
the tears from his streaming eyes.

HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. in

! Stop, Miss Kitty !' he would say : ' let us pause awhile : let na
come back to virtue and ourselves. It is too much : the spectacle
of so much youth and beauty, so much innocence— the fate of our
poor Clarissa — read by a nymph whose lot is so below her merits —
it is too much, Mrs. Pimpernel — it is indeed !'

In some way, while I read, this poet, whose imagination, as be-
came his profession, was strong, mixed up Clarissa with myself, and
imagined that my ending might be in some way similar to that of
the heroine. Now, with Solomon Stallabras, to think was to be-
lieve. Nothing was wanting but a Lovelace. I believe that he
waited about the market in hopes of finding him lurking in some
corner. Perhaps he even suspected poor Sir Miles. Had he found
him, he assured Mrs. Esther, he fully intended to pierce him to the
heart with a spit or skewer from one of the butcher's stalls ; adding
that it would be sweet for him to die, even from the cart at Tyburn,
for my sake. But no Lovelace was trying to make me leave my
shelter with Mrs. Esther.

Sometimes Sir Miles Lackington came to join in the reading, but
we found him wanting in sensibility. Without that quality, Eiehard-
son's novels cannot be enjoyed. He inclined rather to the low
humour which makes men enjoy Fielding's ' Tom Jones,' or Smol-
lett's ' Peregrine Pickle ' — works full, uo doubt, of a coarse vitality
which some men like, but quite wanting in the delicate shades of
feeling that commend an author to the delicacy of gentlewomen.
And to think that old Samuel Eichardson was nothing but a printer
by trade ! Heaven, which denied this most precious gift of creation
to such tender and poetic souls as that of Solomon Stallabras, vouch-
safed to bestow it upon a printer — a mechanical printer, who, if he
was not paid for setting up type himself, yet employed common
workmen, superintended their labours, paid them their wages, and
put profits into his purse. It seems incredible, but then Shakespeare
was only an actor.

' The sunshine of genius,' said Solomon, ' falls upon the children
of the lowly as well as those of the rich. I am myself a scion of
Fetter Lane.'

Sometimes, indeed, Sir Miles Lackington was so wanting in deli-
cacy, and so rude as to laugh at us for our tears.

' You cry over Eichardson,' he said ; ' but if I were to bring yoa
" Tom Jones " I warrant you would laugh.'

' " Tom Jones," ' said Mrs. Esther, ' is clearly a work of coarse-
ness. Ladies do not wish to laugh. The laws of decorum forbid
unrestrained mirth to females of good breeding. Fielding may suit
the pewter pots of the tavern ; Eichardson goes best with the silver
service of the mansion.'

We looked about us as if our room was the mansion and our cup-
board was lined with silver dishes.

Sir Miles laughed again.

' Give me a pewter mug well filled and of tea filled,' hs ,3&id, ' with

H2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

" Tom Jones " to bear it company, and I ask no more. " Clarissa *
and the silver service may remain with you, ladies. Strange, how.
ever, that folk should prefer a printer to a gentleman. Why, Field-
ing comes of an honourable house.'

' Gentle blood,' replied Mrs. Esther, ' does not, unfortunately,
always bring the gifts of poetry and sensibility. You are yourself
of gentle birth, Sir Miles, yet you own that you love not Eichard-
son. Many great authors have been of lowly extraction, and Mr.
Stallabras was saying finely but yesterday, that the sunshine of
genius falls upon the children of the poor as often as upon those of
the rich.'

Solomon inclined his head and coloured ; Sir Miles laughed again
in his easy fashion.

' But,' he said, ' Mr. Eichai'dson knows nothing about the polite
ton. His men are master tradesmen disguised in swords and scarlet
coats ; they are religious tradesmen, wicked tradesmen, and so forth;
but they are not gentlemen ; they cannot talk, think, or walk, write,
or act like gentlemen. If we want to read about polite society, let
us at least ask gentlemen to write for us.'

Sir Miles read little, yet his judgment was generally right, and since
I have seen the society of which Eichardson wrote, I have learned
that he was right in this case ; for Eichardson, pathetic and power-
ful as he is, had certainly never been among the class whose manners
and conversation he attempted to pourtray.

Presently we finished ' Clarissa ' with floods of tears. I believe
that no book was ever written which has caused so many tears as
this work. Just then it was about the end of the year : we had
already eaten our Christmas plum porridge in the darkest and
deadest time of the year, the time when fogs fall over the town by
day and stop all work : when nights are long and days short : when
the market was quiet at night because it was too cold to stand about
or to lie in the open : when all the righting and brawling were over
before five o'clock, and the evenings were tranquil though they were
long. It was just after we ended our book, and were still tearful
under its influence, that our deliverance came to us.

I think it was on the 31st of December in that same year of grace,
seventeen hundred and fifty, in which I had come to the Liberties,
and twenty-nine full years with some eleven months since the poor
ladies had been incarcerated. I well remember the day, though not
certain of the date. It was evening : we had finished work : supper
was on the table when we should care to take it — bread and an ex-
cellent Dutch cheese ; the candle was extinguished, and we were
sitting before the fire. Mrs. Esther was talking, as women lovo
sometimes to talk, about the little things they remember : she was
telling me — not for the first time — of the great frost of 1714, when
she was a young girl, and of the fair which they held upon the ice ;
of the dreadful scare there was in 1718 from the Dumber of high-
wavmen and footpads, for whose apprehension the Government

HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 113

offered as much as .£100 a head ; of Orator Henley, who began to
preach in Clare Market shortly after the ladies came to the Meet ;
of the dreadful storm in 1739, which killed the famous colony of
sparrows in the Mile End Eoad ; of the long frost of 1739, when
from Christmas unto February the poor watermen and fishermen
could not earn a single penny ; of the fever of 1741 ; of the banish-
ment of papists before the Pretender's landing, in 1744 ; of the great
Eebellion of 1745, when the city so nobly did its duty.

' My dear,' she said, 'we, that is the citizens, because the prisoners
of the Fleet and the persons who enjoy the Liberties could hardly
be expected to contribute money or aught but prayers — and most
of the poor creatures but little used to praying !— raised twelve
thousand shirts with as many garments to correspond, ten thousand
woollen caps (to serve, I suppose, as nightcaps for our brave fellows
when they slept in the open air), ten thousand pairs of stockings,
twelve thousand gloves, a thousand blankets— which only makes
one blanket for twelve men, but I hope they took turns about — and
nine thousand spatterdashes. There was a camp on Finchley
Common, of which we heard but did not visit ; the militia were
kept in readiness — a double watch was set at every one of the city
gates ; there were some in the Liberties, who thought that a suc-
cessful invasion of England might lead to the burning of account-
books, registers, ledgers, and warrants, in which case we might all
get out and keep out. For my own part, my dear, and for my sister
Deborah's part, I am happy to say that we preferred the Protestant
succession even to our own freedom, and wished for no such lawless
ending to a captivity however unjust, but prayed night and day for
the confusion of the young Pretender. Happily our prayers were
answered, and great Georg » preserved.'

Then we talked of the past year, how it had brought Mrs. Esther
a daughter — as she was good enough to say — and taken away a
sister. She cried a little over her loss, but presently recovered, and
taking my hand in hers, said many kind and undeserved things to
me, who had been often petulant and troublesome : as that we must
not part, who had been so strangely brought together, unless my
happiness should take me away from the Fleet (I thought, then, of
my husband, and wondered if he would ever come to take me away),
and then said that as we were at New Year's Eve, we should make
good resolutions for the next year, which were to be kept resolutely,
not broken and thrown away ; that for her part, she designed, if I
agreed and consented to the change, to call me niece, and I should
call her aunt, by which mutual adoption of each other our affection
and duty one towards the other would be strengthened and founded,
as it were, on a sure and stable basis.

'Not, my dear,' she added, 'that you can ever call yourself a
Pimpernel — an honour granted to few — or that you should ever
wish to change your name ; but in all other respects you shall be
the same as if you were indeed my own niece, the daughter of my

8

H4 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

brother (but I never had one) or sister (but I had only one, and she
was as myself). Truly the Pley dells are a worthy family, of whom
we have no need to be ashamed.

I was assuring her that nothing could alter my love and gratitude
for her exceeding kindness, when we heard footsteps and voices on
the stairs, and presently a knock at the door, and the Doctor stood
before us. Behind him were Sir Miles Lackington and Solomon
Stallabras.

' Madam,' said the Doctor, ' I wish you a good evening, with the
compliments of the season. Merry as well as happy may you be
next year.'

I declare that directly I saw his face, my heart leaped into my
mouth. I hiew that he was come with great and glorious news.
For his eyes glowed with the light of some suppressed knowledge,
and a capacious smile began with his lips and glowed over the vast
expanse of his ruddy cheeks.

' Merry, Doctor — no. But happy if God will'

' Ta ! ta ! ta ! we shall see,' he replied. ' Now, madam, I have a
thing to say which will take some time to say. I have taken the
liberty of bringing with me a bottle of good old port, the best to
be procured, which strengthens the nerves and acts as a sovereign
cordial in cases of sudden excitement. Besides, it is to-night New
Year's Eve, when all should rejoice.' He produced the bottle from
under his gown and placed it on the table. ' I have also taken the
liberty to bring with me our friends and well-wishers, Sir Miles
Lackington and Mr. Stallabras, partly to — to — ' here he remembered
that a corkscrew was not likely to be among our possessions — 'to
draw the cork of the bottle, a thing which Sir Miles does with zeal
and propriety.' The Baronet with great gravity advanced and per-
formed the operation by a dexterous handling of the poker, which
detached the upper part of the neck. ' So,' continued the doctor ;
' and partly that they too, who have been so long our true and
faithful friends, may hear what I have to say, and so that we
may all rejoice together, and, if need be, sing psalms with merry
hearts.'

Merry hearts ? Were we to sing psalms with merry hearts in the
place where for thirty years every day had brought with it its own
suffering and disgrace to this poor lady 1

Yet, what news could the Doctor have which made his purple
face so glad, as if the sunlight instead of our fire of cannel coal was
shining full upon it ?

' Kitty child,' he went on, ' light candles : not one candle — two
candles, three candles, four candles — all the candles you have in the
place ; we will have an illumination. Sir Miles, will you please to
sit ? Mr. Stallabras, will you take Kitty's chair ? She will he
occupied in serving. Glasses, child, for this honourable company
Why ' — he banged his fist upon the table, but with consideration,
for it was not so strong as his own great table — ' why, I am happier

HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 115

this night than ever I have been before, I think, in all my life.
Such a story as I have to tell !'

I placed on the table the three candlesticks which formed all our
stock, and set candles in them and lit them. I put out such glasses
as we had, and then I stood beside Mrs. Esther's chair and took her
hand in mine. I knew not what to expect, yet I was certain that
it was something very good for Mrs. Esther. Had it been for me,
the Doctor would have sent for me ; or for himself, he would have
told it without this prodigality of joy. Surely it must be for my
good patron and protector ! My pulses were bounding, and I could
see that Mrs. Esther, too, was rapidly rising to the same excitement.

' Certain I am,' said Sir Miles, ' that something has happened.
Doctor, let us quickly congratulate you. Let us drink your health.
I burn to drink some one's health.'

' Should something have happened,' said the poe;, : I would it
were something good for ladies who shall be nameless.'

' Stay,' said the Doctor. He stood while the res i were sitting.
He thus increased the natural advantage of his gre; it proportions.
' We are not yet come to the drinking of health s. But, Mrs.
Pimpernel, I must first invite you, before I go on with what I have
to say, to take a glass of this most generous vintage'. The grapes
which produced it grew fat and strong in thinking of the noble part
they were about to fulfil: the sunshine of Spain passed into their
juices and filled them with the spirit of strength and confidence :
that spirit lies imprisoned in the bottle before us '

' It does — it does !' murmured Sir Miles, gazing thoughtfully at
the bottle.

' He ought to have been a poet l' whispered Solomon.

The Doctor looked round impatiently, and swept the folds of his
gown behind him with a large gesture.

'For what did the grapes rejoice? Why was the vintage more
than commonly rich ? Because in the fulness of time it was destined
to comfort the heart and to strengthen the courage of a most worthy
and cruelly tried lady. Indeed, Mrs. Pimpernel, wonderful are the
decrees of heaven ! Drink, madam.'

He poured out a glass of wine and handed it to her., She stared
in his face almost stupidly : she was trying to repress a wild thought
which seized her : her lips were parted, her gaze fixed, her hands
trembling.

' Drink it, madam,' ordered the Doctor.

' What is it 1 oh ! what is it V she cried.

' Drink the wme, madam,' said Sir Miles, kindly. { Believe me,
the wine will give you courage.'

I took the glass and held it to her lips, while she drank sub-
missively.

' With a bottle of port before him,' said Sir Miles, encouragingly,
' a man may have patience for anything. With the hfvfp of such a
friend, would I receive with resignation and joy, good fortune for

8-2

Ii6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

myself or disasters to all my cousins, male and female. Go on,
Doctor. The lady hath taken one glass to prepare her palate for
the next.'

' Patience, now,' said the Doctor, 'and silence, all of you. Solomon
Stallabras, if you liken me again to a poet, you shall leave this room,
and lose the jjby of hearing what I have to tell.

' It is novr some three months that the thought came into my
mind of inve itigating the case of certain prisoners lying forgotten in
the prison or dragging along a wretched existence in the Rules. It
matters not \rhat these cases were, or how I have sped in my search.
One case, however, has filled me with gratitude and joy because —
madam/ he t urned suddenly on poor Mrs. Esther, 'you will please
to listen pationtly. This case concerns the unhappy fate of two poor
ladies. The:'x history, gentlemen ' — oh ! why could he not get on
faster 1 — ' is partly known to you. They were daughters of a most
•worthy and respected city merchant who, in his time, served many
civic offices with dignity and usefulness, including the highest. He
was a bene: 'actor to his parish, beautified his church, and died
leaving behind him two young daughters, the youngest of whom
came of ago in the year 1720. To each of them he left a large
fortune, no Less than twenty thousand pounds. Alas ! gentlemen,
this money, placed in the hands of their guardian and trustee, a
friend as honourable as the late Lord Mayor himself, the ladies'
father, namely Alderman Medlicott, was in the year 1720 shamefully
pillaged and stolen by the alderman's clerk, one Christopher March,
insomuch that (the alderman having gone mad by reason of his
losses) the poor girls had no longer any fortune or any friends to
help, for in that bad time most all the merchants were hit, and
everyone lad to look after himself as best he could. Also this
plundering villain had so invested part of their money, in their own
name by forgeries, as to make them liable for large sums which they
had not the means of paying. They were therefore arrested and
confined in the prison hard by, where under the rule of the rogue
Bambridge they suffered many things which it is painful to recall or
to think about. Presently, however, that tormentor and plague of
the human race — captivorumflagellvm — scourge of innoceut captives
and languishing debtors, having been mercifully removed, and
having hung himself like Judas and so gone to his own place, these
ladies found the necessary security which ensures for all of us this
partial lit*rty, with the opportunity, should we embrace it, of
improving the,, golden hours. In other words, gentlemen, they
came out of the prison, and have ever since dwelt amongst us in
this place.

' Gentlemen, we have with us here many improvident and foolish
persons who have mostly by their own misconduct reduced them-
selves to our unhappy condition. It needs not that in this place,
which is rot a pulpit, I should speak of those who have gambled
away thei r property ' — Sir Miles shook his head- -' or drank it away'

HOW MRS. ESTHER WAS DISCHARGED. 117

— Sir Miles stared straight at the ceiling — ' or have missed their
chances, or been forgotten by Fortune ' — Mr. Stallabras groaned.
' Of these things I will not speak. But it is a thing notorious to all
of us that the Liberties are not the chosen home of virtue. Here
temperance, sobriety, morality, gentle words, courteous bearing, truth,
honour, kindness of thought, and charity — which sceketh not her
own — are rarely illustrated and discourteously entn sated. Where-
fore, I say, that for two ladies to have steadfastly resisted all the
temptations of this place, and to have exhibited, so that all might
copy, the examplar of a perfect Christian life during thirty years, is
a fact which calls for the gratitude as well as the astonishment of the
wondering Rules.'

' He ought to have been a ' began Solomon Stallabras, wiping

a sympathetic tear, but caught the Doctor's frowning eye and
stopped ; ' an— an Archbishop,' he added presently, with a little
hesitation.

'Sir,' said the Doctor, 'you are right. I ought to have been an
archbishop. Many an archbishop's Latin verses have been poor
indeed compared with mine. But to proceed. Madam, I would
fain not be tedious.'

' Oh, sir,' said Mrs. Esther, whose brain seemed confused with this
strange exordium.

'After thirty years or thereabouts of most undeserved captivity
and forced retirement from the polite world — which they were born
to adorn — these ladies found themselves by the will of Providence
forced to separate. One of them winged her glad flight to heaven,
the other was permitted to remain awhile below. It was then that
I began to investigate the conditions of their imprisonment.
Madam,' he turned suddenly to Mrs. Esther, so that she started in
her chair and trembled violently, 'think of what you would most
wish : name no trifling matter; it is not a gift of a guinea or two,
the bettering of a meal, the purchase of a blanket, tb e helping of a
poor family ; no boon or benefit of a day or two. Lit your imagi-
nation rove, set her free, think boldly, aim high, think of the best
and most desirable thing of all.'

She tried to speak, her lips parted ; she half rose, catching at my
hand: but her words were refused utterance; her cheek grew so
pale and white that I thought she would have swocned and seized
her in my arms, being so much stronger and bigger. Then I ven-
tured to speak, being moved myself to a flood of tears.

' Oh, madam ! dear madam ! the Doctor is not jesting with you ;
he hath in his hands the thing that we desire most of all. He
brings you, I am sure, great news— the greatest. Oh, sir' — I spoke
now for her who was struck dumb with hope, fear, and astonishment
— ' what can this poor lady want but her release from this dreadf al
place ? What can she pray for, what can she ask, morning and
night, after all these years of companionship with profligates, spend-
thrifts, rogues, and villains, the ntisy ppyket-people, the poor

n8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

suffering women and children of this den of infamy, but her deliver-
ance 1 Sir, if you have brought her that, tell her so at once, to ease
her mind.'

' Well said, Kitty,' cried Sir Miles. ' Doctor, speak out.'

'No poet — not even Alexander Pope— could have spoken more
eloquently,' cried Solomon Stp"abras.

As for Mrs. Esther, she drew herself gently from me, and stood
with her handkerchief in her hand, aud tears in her eyes, her poor
thin figure trembling.

' I have brought with me,' said the Doctor, taking her hand and
kissing it, ' the release of the most innocent prisoner in the world.'

She steadied herself for a few moments. Then she spoke clearly
and calmly.

' That,' she said, 'has ever been the utmost of my desire. I have
desired it so long and so vehemently (with my sister Deborah, to
whom it has been granted) that it has become part of my very
being. I have desired it, I think, even more than my sister. Thirty
years have I bee a a prisoner in the Fleet, though for twenty-six in
the enjoyment of there (so-called) Liberties. Gentlemen, you know
full well what manner of life has been ours ; you know the sights,
the sounds, the wickednesses of this place.' Here Sir Miles hung
his head. 'I am, as the Doctor most kindly hath told you, a gentle-
woman born ; my father, besides being a great and honourable
merchant of this most noble City of London, once Lord Mayor, an
Alderman of Portsoken Ward, and Worshipful Master of the
Company of Armour Scourers, was also a true Christian man, and
taught us early the doctrines and virtues of the true faith. We
were educated as heiresses ; we were delicately brought up in the
love of duty and religion ; too delicately for women fated to herd
with the worst, and bear the worst. It is, therefore, no merit of
ours if we have behaved, according to our lights, as Christian
gentlewomen. Yet, sirs, kind friends, it has been great unhappiness
to us ; bear with me a little, for when I think of my sister's suffer-
ings, and my own, I fain must weep. It haa been, believe me, great,
great unhappiness.'

I think we all wept with her. Yet it was astonishing to see with
what quiet digrdty she spoke, resuming, at a moment's notice, the
air not only of a gentlewoman, which she had never lost, but of one
who is no longer troubled by being in a false position, and can com-
mand, as well aii receive, respect. I saw before me a great city lady,
as she had been trained and brought up to be. Small though she
was, her dignity made her tall — as her unmerited sufferings and
patience made her great.

Sir Miles laid his hand on the poet's shoulder.

' Great heaven !' he cried. ' Canst thou weep any more over the
misfortunes of Clarissa, with this poor lady's sorrows in thy recol-
lection V

The Doctor wiped his eyes. But for those backslidings '^hick we

HOW MRS. ESTHER V/AS DISCHARGED. 119

have already lamented, what an admirable character, how full of
generosity, how full of sympathy, how kind of heart, was my uncle !

' Pray, madam,' he said, 'be seated again. Will you take another
glass of wine V

' No, Doctor,' she replied. ' This is now no case for the help of
wine. Pray finish the story of your benevolent care.'

' Why, madam, as for benevolence,' he said, 'I have but done
what Sir Miles Lackington or Solomon Stallabras ' — the poet spread
his arms and tapped his breast — ' would have done, had they pos-
sessed the power of doing ; what, indeed, this crying slip of a girl
would have done had she known how. Benevolence ! Are we,
then, Old Bailey prisoners, chained by the leg until the time comes
for us to go forth to Tyburn Tree ? Are we common rogues and
vagabonds, that have no bowels? Can such a life as yours be con-
templated with unmoved eyes 1 Is Sir Miles a Lovelace for hardness
of heart ? or Solomon Stallabras a salamander 1 Am I a Nero ']
Nay, madam, speak no more of benevolence. Know, then, that of
all the people whom the conduct of the villain Christopher March
with regard to your affairs injured, but two are left alive. The
heirs of the rest are scattered and dispersed. These two have pros-
pered, and are generous as well as old ; their hearts melted at the
tale of suffering; they have agreed together to give back to you,
not only the security which keeps you here, but also a formal release
of your debt to them ; you can go whenever you please,'

' Why, then, shouted Sir Miles, grasping the bottle, ' we can
drink her '

'Stay,' said the Doctor. 'There is one thing more. This
generous gift restores to you, not only liberty, but also your father's
country estate in Hertfordshire, worth six hundred pounds a year.
And here, madam, are the papers which vouch for all. You have
now your own estate, and are once more a gentlewoman of fortune
and position.'

She took the papers, and held them grasped tightly in her lap.

'And now, gentlemen,' said the Doctor, gently taking the bottle
from the baronet's hand, ' we will drink — you, too, Kitty, my
dear, must join— a happy new year to Mrs. Esther Pimpernel."'

They drauk it with no more words ; and Sir Miles fell on his
knees and kissed her hand, but without speaking aught.

Mrs. Esther sat still and quiet, trying to recover herself ; but
the first eloquence would not return, and she could not speak for
crying and sobbing. In broken words she said, while she caught
the Doctor's great hand and held it, that he had been, in very sooth,
her guardian angel ; that it was he who had rescued her sister and
herself from the monster Bambridge and the horrors of the prison ;
that, but for him, they would long ago have starved ; that, but for
him, she should have languished for the rest of her days in the
Pules. Then she prayed that God would reward the protector and
defender of the poor.

i2o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

The Doctor drew away his hand, and, without a word, walked
out of the room with hanging head, followed by Sir Miles and Mr.
Stallabras.

' We shall go, my sweet Kitty ; together we shall leave this
dreadful place,' she murmured when we were alone. ' What is mine
is yours, my child. Let us humbly to our knees.'

PART II.

THE QUEEN OF THE WELLS.
CHAPTER I.

HOW WE RETURNED TO THE POLITE WORLD.

We love those places most where we lived when we were young,
and where we were wooed and won, and where we had those sweet
dreams, which can only come to the very young, of a happy future,
impossible in this transitory and fleeting life. Dear to me and
romantic are the scenes which to many are associated with disease
and infirmity, or at best with the mad riot of the race, the assembly,
and the ball.

Truly there is no time, for a woman, like the time when she is
young and beautiful, and is courted by a troop of lovers. She feels
her power, though she does not understand it ; she remembers it
long after the power has gone, with the witchery of bright eyes,
soft cheeks, and blooming youth. I think there can never be any
faith or hope in the future so strong as to resist the sigh over the
past, the feeling that it is better to be young than to be old : to
blossom than to wither.

When we went to Epsom Wells we had managed between us, by
silence as to the past and a tacit understanding, to forget the Rules
altogether. Forgetting, indeed, is eas3 r . Surely the butterfly for-
gets the days when it was a mere crawling grub ; (Jophetua's queen
no doubt soon learned to believe that she had royal blood, or blue
blood at least, in her peasant veins (for my own part, I think the
king should have mated with one nearer his own rank). There is
little difficulty in putting out of sight what we wish forgotten.
There was a man, for instance, about the Fleet market, running odd
jobs, who actually had forgotten that he was once hanged. The
people used to go there on purpose to see the wretch, who was, I
remember, bow-legged and long-armed, with broad shoulders ; his
face was marked with small-pox ; he squinted ; he had a great scar
upon his cheek ; the bridge of his nose was broken ; he had no

RETURNING TO THE POLITE WORLD. 121

forehead visible ; his ears projected on either side, and were long,
like the ears of a mule ; his eye-teeth were like tusks ; and as for
his expression, it was that which John Bunyau may have had in
his mind when he wrote about the mob in Vanity Fair, or the ill-
favoured ones who got over the wall and accosted Christiana — an
expression which one may briefly describe as indicating a mind not
set upon spiritual things. Now this man had actually once been
hanged, but being taken away after the hanging to Barber Surgeons'
Hall, near St. Giles's Church, Cripplegate, was then restored to life
by one who thought to dissect him. That was why everybody
looked after him, and would have asked him questions if they had
dared accost such a ruffian. For it seemed to the unthinking as if
he, alone among living men, had, like Dante and Virgil, gone into
the regions of the dead, conversed with the spirits of the unjust
(being himself a monstrous criminal), and, after witnessing their
tortures, had returned to the living. To those who bribed him with
rum and then put questions, he replied that as for the hanging, it
might be as the gentleman said, but he had forgotten it. As for
what he saw between his hanging and his restoration to life, he had
forgotten that too. Now if a man can forget having been hung, it
stands to reason that he can forget anything.

At all events, without the insensibility of this wretch, we speedily
agreed to forget the Fleet Eules, and in all our conversations to
make as if we had never been there at all, and knew of the place,
if at all, then only by hearsay and common bruit and rumour. As
for the Chaplain of the Fleet, the great promoter of those marriages
which made the place infamous and the chief performer of them
notorious, we agreed that we were only to think of him as our
benefactor.

Not that we put these resolutions into words, but we arrived at
them in the manner common among women, with whom a smile or
a glance is as intelligible as many words (with a bottle of wine)
among men.

It was due to this desire to forget the past that we never even
read through the ' Farewell to the Fleet,' presented to us by Mr.
Solomon Stallabras on the morning of our departure. The first four
lines, which was as far as I got, ran as follows :

' With easy air of conscious worth expressed,
Fair Pimpernel her sorrows oft addressed ;
The listening echoes poured her sighs abroad,
Which, all unheard by men, were heard by God.'

He handed the verses to us with a low bow as we stepped into the
coach, leaving him behind still — poor wretch ! — ' enjoying ' the
Liberties.

We first repaired, with the view of spending a period of retire-
ment, to a convenient lodging in Eed Lion Street, where Mrs.

12? THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Esther set herself seriously to resume tho dress, manner, language,
and feelings of a gentlewoman.

' We have been,' she said, ' like the sun in eclipse. It is true
that one does not cease to enjoy, under all circumstances, the pride
of gentle birth, which has been my chief consolation during all our
troubles. But if one cannot illustrate to the eyes of the world the
dignified deportment and genteel appearance due to that position,
the possession of the privilege is a mere private grace, like the gift
of good temper, patience, or hope.'

At first and for some weeks we held daily conversations and con-
sultations on the subject of dress. We were, as may be guessed,
somewhat like Pocahontas, of Virginia, when she left the savages
and came into the polite world — because we had to begin from the
very first, having hardly anything in which a lady could go abroad,
and very little in which she could sit at home. Truly delightful
was it to receive every day the packages of brocades, lace, satins,
silks, sarsnets, besides chintzes, muslins, woollen things, and fine
linen wherewith to deck ourselves, and to talk with the dressmaker
over the latest fashion, the most proper style for madam, a lady no
longer young, and for me, who, as a girl, should be dressed modestly
and yet fashionably.

' We must go fine, child,' said Mrs. Esther. ' I, for my part, be-
cause a fine appearance is due to my position : you, because you are
young and beautiful. The gallants, to do them justice, are never
slow in running after a pretty face ; but they are only fixed by a
pretty face in a pretty setting.'

Alas ! to think that my face, pretty or not, already belonged,
willy-nilly, to a man who had never run after it.

Mrs. Esther found that not only the fashions of dress, but those
of furniture, of language, of manners, and of thought, were changed
since her long imprisonment began. We therefore made it our en-
deavour by reading papers, by watching people, and by going to
such places as the Mai!, the Park, and even the fashionable churches,
to catch, as far as possible, the mode. Mrs. Esther never quite
succeeded, retaining to the last a touch of antiquated manners, an
old-fashioned bearing and trick of speech, which greatly became
her, though she knew it not. Meanwhile we held long and serious
talk about the rust of thirty years, and the best way to wear it oif.

In one of the sermons of the Eeverend Melchior Smallbrook, a
divine now forgotten, but formerly much read, the learned clergy-
man states that the sunshine of prosperity is only dangerous to that
soul in which tares are as ready to spring aa wheat : adducing as s
remarkable example and proof of this opinion, the modern prelates
of the Church of England, whose lives (he said) are always models
to less fortunate Christians, although their fortunes are so great.
Now in Mrs. Esther's soul were no tares at all, so that the sun-
shine of prosperity caused no decrease or diminution of her virtues.
She only changed for the better, and especially in point of cheerful-

RETURNING TO THE POLITE WORLD. 123

ness and confidence. For instance, whereas we were formerly wont,
being poorly clad, to creep humbly to church, sit in the seats re-
served for the poor (which have no backs to them, because the
bishops consider the backs of the poor to be specially strengthened
by Providence, which hath laid such heavy burdens upon them),
and afterwards spend the day sadly over Hervey's ' Meditations
among the Tombs,' we now went in hoops, laces, mantles, or
cardinals, with faces patched, to the new church in Queen Square,
where we had front seats in the gallery, and after church we dineil
off roast meat, with pudding, and after dinner read such discourses
as presented, instead of penitential meditations, a thankful, nay, a
cheerful view of life. I am sure, for my own part, I found the
change greatly for the better. But we made no new friends, be-
cause Mrs. Esther wished to remain in strict retirement until she
had recovered what she called the Pimpernel Manner.

'It is a Manner, my dear, as you will perceive when I recover it,
at once dignified and modest. My father and my grandfather, both
Lord Mayors, possessed it to an eminent degree, and were justly
celebrated for it. My poor sister would never have acquired it,
being by nature too sprightly. I was gradually learning it when
our misfortunes came. Naturally afterwards it would have been
absurd to cultivate its further development. The Pimpernel Manner

would have been thrown away in such a place as that to which

we retired.'

I am so stupid that I never clearly understood the Pimpernel
Manner, even when Mrs. Esther afterwards assured me that she had
now fully recovered it.

Meantime, my education was resumed in the lighter departments.
No girl who had once tackled book-keeping, by single and double
entry, could want any more solid instruction. My guardian played
the harpsichord for me, while my dancing-master gave me lessons in
the minuet ; or she personated a duchess, a countess, or even the
most exalted lady in the land, while the master, a pink of courtesy,
who had once danced on the boards of Drury Lane, presented me
dressed in hoops and a train. I was so diligent in dancing that
I was soon ready, he assured me, to make a figure at any assembly,
whether at Bath, Epsom, Tunbridge Wells, Vauxhall, or Eanelagh.
But for the present these gaieties had to be postponed, partly
because the Pimpernel Manner was slow in developing, and without
it my guardian would not stir abroad, partly because we had no
gentleman to go with us. Sir Miles Lackington would, I am sure,
have gone with us, had we asked him to take us. But he was not
to be depended upon if a bottle of wine came in the way. Solomon
Stallabras would have gone, but the poor poet had no clothes fit for
a polite assembly. Moreover, there was an objection, Mrs. Esther
said, to both those gentlemen, that the fact of their being in the
enjoyment of the Liberties of the Fleet might have been thrown in
our teeth at a polite assembly.

124 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

It seemed to me then, being ignorant of the extreme wickednesi
of men, a grievous thing that gentlewomen cannot go whithersoever
they please without the protection of a man. What sort of an age,
I asked, is this, which pretends to have cast aside Gothic barbarism,
yet cannot suffer its ladies to go unprotected for fear of insult or
damage to their reputation '\ Scourers and Mohocks, I said, no
longer infest the streets, which are for the most part secure even
from footpads and purse-cutters. I was as yet, however, unacquainted
with that class of man which loves to follow a woman, to stare at
her, and to make her tremble with fear, being no better, but rather
worse, than so many highwaymen, common bullies, and professed
rogues.

Sir Miles Lackington did not desert us. Neither my cruelty, he
said, nor his own unworthiness could persuade him to do that ; he
must needs follow and worship at the shrine of his unattainable
sun and shining star — with such nonsense as men will still be talking
even when they know that the woman is not for them.

On the occasion of the first visit I privately informed him that
we wished to have no mention made of the place where we were
once residing. He very kindly agreed to silence on this point, and
we sustained between us a conversation after the manner of polite
circles. Sir Miles would ask us, with a pinch of snuff, if we liked
our present lodging — which was, as I have said, in Red Lion Street,
not far from the fields and the Foundling Hospital — better than
those to be obtained in Hill Street and Bruton Street, or some other
place frequented by the best families. Madam, with a fashionable
bow, would reply that we were favourably placed as regards air, that
of Bloomsbury being good for persons like herself, of delicate chests ;
and that concerning educational conveniences for miss, she found the
quarter superior to that mentioned by Sir Miles. Then the honest
baronet would relate, without yawning or showing any signs of
fatigue, such stories of fashionable life as he had learned from those
who had lately come to the Fleet, or remembered from his short
career among the world of fashion. We agreed, always without
unnecessary waste of words, to consider him as a gentleman about
town, familiar with the Great.

The Doctor came but rarely. He brought wise counsel. He was
a miracle of wisdom. No one is ever so wise in the conduct of his
friends' affairs as he who has wrecked his own. Have we not seen
far-seeing and prudent ministers of state, who have conducted the
business of the nation with skill and success, yet cannot manage
their own far more simple business ?

Mrs. Esther talked to no one but to him about the past. She had
no secrets from him. She even wished him, if possible, to share in
her good fortune, and wanted him to appease his creditors with
half of all that was hers. But he refused.

' My imprisonment,' he said, ' is also my freedom. While I am
lying in the Fleet I can go abro.id as I please ; I fear no arrest :

RETURNING TO THE POLITE WORLD. 125

my conscience does not reproach me ■when I pass a shop and think
of what I owe the tradesman who keeps it, because my creditors
have paid themselves by capture of my body. Your purse, dear
madam, were it ten times as long, would not appease the hungry
maw of all my creditors and lawyers. Of old, before I took refuge
among the offal and off-scouring of humanity, the prodigal sons, and
the swine, there was no street west of Temple Bar where I did not
fear the voice of a creditor or expect the unfriendly shoulder-tap of
a bailiff. Besides, were I free, what course would be open to me ?
Now I live in state, with the income of a dean : outside I should
live in meanness, with the income of a curate. I will retire from
my present position — call it cure of souls, madam — when the Church
recognises merit by translating me from the Fleet market to a fat
prebendal stall. And, believe me, Virtue may fiud a home even
beside those stalls, and among those grunting swine.'

I understand now, being much older and abler to take a just
view of things, that if my uncle could have obtained his discharge
he would have been unwilling to take it. For, granted that he was
a learned and eloquent man, that he would have attracted multi-
tudes to hear him, learning and eloquence, in the Church, do not
always obtain for a clergyman the highest preferment ; the Doctor,
who was no longer young, might have had to languish as a curate
on fortyor perhaps sixty pounds juer annum, even though it became
the fashion to attend his sermons. And, besides, his character was
for ever gone, among his brethren of the cloth. A man who has
been a Fleet parson is like one who has passed a morning in hedging
and ditching. He must needs wash all over. Truly, I think that
the Doctor was right. To exercise the functions of his sacred calling
all the morning for profit, to drink with his friends all the evening,
to spend a large portion of his gains in deeds of charity and gene-
rosity among a poor, necessitous, prodigal, greedy, spendthrift,
hungry, thirsty, and shameful folk, who rewarded his liberality by
a profusion of thanks, blessings, and good wishes, was more in
accordance with the Doctor's habits of thought. 'le persuaded
himself, or tried to persuade others, that he was doing a good work
in the morning ; in the afternoon he performed works of charity ;
in the evening he abandoned himself to the tempter, who led him
to sing, drink, and jest among the rabble rout of Comus.

One morning he bade me put on my hat and walk with him, be-
cause he had a thing to say. I obeyed with fear, being certain he
was going to speak about my unknown husband.

'Girl!' he said, as we walked past the last house in Bed Lion
Street and along the pathway which leads to the Foundling Hos-
pital. ' Girl, I have to remind you and to warn you.'

I knew well what was to be the warning.

' Eemember, you are now seventeen and more ; you are no longer
a young and silly girl, you are a young woman ; thanks to your
friends, you have taken the position of a young gentlewoman, even

126 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET*

an heiresa. You will soon leave this quiet lodging and go where
you will meet society and the great world ; you are pretty and well-
mannered ; you will have beaux and gallants dangling their clouded
canes at your heels and asking your favours. But you are married.
Remember that : you are married. You must be careful not to let
a single stain rest upon your reputation.'

' Oh, sir !' I cried, ' 1 have endeavoured to forget that morning.
Was that marriage real ? The poor young gentleman was tipsy.
Can a tipsy man be married V

' Eeal V The Doctor stood and gazed at me with angry eyes and
puffed cheeks, so that the old terror seized me in spite of my fine
frock and hoop. ' Eeal ? Is the girl mad ? Am I not Gregory
Shovel, Doctor of Divinity of Christ's College, Cambridge ? Not
even the King's most sacred Majesty is married in more workman-
like fashion. Let your husband try to escape the bond. Know
that he shall be watched : let him try to set it aside : he shall learn
by the intervention of learned lawyers, if he do not trust my word,
that he is as much married as St. Peter himself.'

' Alas !' I said. ' But how shall my husband love me ]'

' Tut ! tut ! what is love 1 You young people think of nothing
but love — the fond inclination of one person for another. Are you
a pin the worse, supposing he never loves you ? Love or no love,
make up thy mind, child, that happy shall be thy lot. Be contented,
patient, and silent. When the right day comes, thou shalt step forth
to the world as Catherine, Lady Chudieigh.'

That day he said no more to me. But he showed that the subject
was not out of his thoughts by inquiries into the direction and pro-
gress of my studies, which, he hinted, should be such as would
befit my rank and position. Madam thought he meant my rank
as her heiress, a position which could not be illustrated with too
much assiduity.

Soon after we went to Bed Lion Street, my uncle gave madam
my bag of guineas.

' Here is the child's fortune,' he said. ' Let her spend it, but with
moderation, in buying the frocks, fal-lals, and trifles which a young
gentlewoman of fortune should wear. Grudge not the spending.
Should more be wanting, more shall be found. In everything, my
dear lady, make my niece an accomplished woman, a woman of ton,
a woman who can hold her own, a woman who can go into any
society, a woman fit to become the wife — well — the wife of a lord.'

It was on New Year's Day that we left the Fleet ; it was in the
summer, at the end of June, when we decided that enough had been
done to rub off the rust of that unfashionable place.

' You, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, ' have the sprightly graces of a
well-born and well-bred young woman : I can present you in any
society. I, for my part, have recovered the Pimpernel Manner. I
can now make an appearance worthy of my father.'

I assured my kind lady that although, to be sure, I had never

HOW WE WENT TO THE WELLS. 127

been able to witness the great original and model from which the
"Pimpernel Manner was derived, yet that no lady had so fine an air
as herself ; which was certainly true, madam being at once dignified
and gifted with a formal condescension very pretty and uncommon.

CHAPTER II.

HOW WE WENT TO THE WELLS.

ACCESS to the polite world is more readily gained (by those who
have no friends) at one of the watering-places than in Loudon.
Considering this, we counselled whether it would not be better to
visit one, or all, of the English Spas, rather than to climb slowly and
painfully up the ladder of London fashion.

Mrs. Esther at first inclined to Bath, which certainly (though it
is a long journey thither) is a most stately city, provided with every
requisite for comfort, possessing the finest assembly-rooms and the
most convenient lodgings. It also affords opportunities for making
the acquaintance and studying the manners of the Great. More-
over, there can be no doubt that its waters are efficient in the cure
of almost all disorders ; and the social enjoyment of the hot bath,
taken in the company of the wits and toasts who go to be parboiled
together in that liquid Court of scandal, chocolate, and sweets, is
surely a thing without a rival.

On the other hand, Tunbridge Wells is nearer London ; the roads
are good ; a coach reaches the place in one day ; and, so amazing is
the rapidity of communication (in which we so far excel our ances-
tors), that the London morning papers reach the Wells in the even-
ing, and a letter posted from the Wells in the morning can be
answered in the following evening. Also the air is fine at Tun-
bridge, the waters wholesome, and the amusements are said to be
varied. Add to this that it is greatly frequented by the better sort
of London citizens, those substantial merchants with their proud
and richly dressed wives and daughters, whom Mrs. Esther always
looked upon as forming the most desirable company in the world.
So that it was at first resolved to go to Tunbridge.

But while we were making our preparations to go there, a
curious longing came upon Mrs, Esther to revisit the scenes of her
youth.

' My dear,' she said, ' I should like to see once more the Wells of
Epsom, whither my father carried us every year when we were
children. The last summer I spent there was after his death, in the
dreadful year of 1720, when the place was crowded with Germans,
Jews, and the people who flocked to London with schemes which
were to have made all our fortunes, but which only ruined us, filled

128 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

the prisons and madhouses, drove honest men upon the road and
their children to the gutters. Let us go to Epsom.'

Epsom "Wells, to be sure, was no longer what it had been. In-
deed, for a time, the place had fallen into decay. Yet of late, with
their horse-racing in April and June, and the strange repute of the
bone-setter Sally "Wallin, the salubrity of the air on the Downs, the
easy access to the town, which lieth but sixteen miles or thereabouts
from Paul's, and the goodness of the lodgings, the fame of the place
had revived. The gentry of the country-side came to the Monday
breakfasts and assemblies, when there was music, card-playing, and
dancing ; the old buildings were again repaired, and Epsom Wells
for a few years was once more crowded. To me, as will presently be
very well understood, the place will ever remain a dear romantic
spot, sacred to the memory of the sweetest time in a woman's life,
when her heart goes out of her keeping, and she listens with fear
and delight to the wooing of the man she loves.

We went there in the coach, which took about three hours. We
arrived in the afternoon of a sunny day — it was a Friday, which is
an unlucky day to begin a journey upon— in the middle of July.
We were presently taken to a neat and clean lodging in Church
Parade, where we engaged rooms at a moderate charge. The land-
lady, one Mrs. Crump, was the widow, she told us, of a respectable
hosier of Cheapside, who had left her with but a slender stock.
Her children, however, were in good service and thriving ; and, with
her youngest daughter, Cicely, she kept this lodging-house, a poor
but genteel mode of earning a livelihood.

The first evening we sat at home until sunset, when we put on
our hoods and walked under the trees which everywhere at Epsom
afford a delightful shade during the heat of the day, and a romantic
obscurity in the twilight. A lane or avenue of noble lime-trees was
planted in the Church Parade. Small avenues of trees led to the
bouses, and formed porches with rich canopies of green leaves.
There was a good deal of company abroad, and we could hear, not
far off, the strains of the music to which they were dancing in the
Assembly Eooms.

' We have done well, Kitty, said Mrs. Esther, ' to come to this
place, which is far less changed than since last I came here. 1 trust
it is not sinful to look back with pleasure and regret on the time of
youth.' Here she sighed. ' The good woman of the house, I per-
ceive with pleasure, remembers the name of Pimpernel, and m;ide
me a becoming courtesy when I informed her of my father's rank.
She remembers seeing his Lord Mayor's Show. There are, it ap-
pears, many families of the highest distinction here, with several
nabobs, rich Turkey and Russian merchants, great lawyers, and
county gentry. She assures me that all are made welcome, and that
the assemblies are open to the whole company. And she paid a
tribute to thy pretty face, my dear.'

In the morning we were awakened, to our surprise and delight,

HOW WE WENT TO THE WELLS. 129

by a delectable concert of music, performed for us, by way of salu-
tation or greeting, by the band belonging to the place. They played,
in succession, a number of the most delightful airs, such as, ' A-
hunting we will go,' ' Fain I would/ ' Spring's a-coming,' ' Sweet
Nelly, my heart's delight,' and 'The girl I left behind me.' The
morning was bright, and a breeze came into my open window from
the Surrey Downs, fresh and fragrant with the scent of wild flowers.
My brain was filled with the most ravishing ideas, though I knew
not of what.

'My dear,' said Mrs. Esther, at breakfast, 'the compliment of the
music shows the discernment of the people. They have learned
already that we have pretensions to rank, and are no ordinary
visitors, not haberdashers' daughters or grocers'.'

(It is, we afterwards discovered, the rule of the place thus to
salute new comers, without inquiry at all into their rank or fortune.
We rewarded the players with half-a-crown from madam, and two
shillings from myself.)

It is, surely, a delightful thing to dres^ one's self in the morning
to the accompaniment of sweet music. If I were a queen, I would
have a concert of music every day, to begin when I put foot out of
bed : to sing in tune while putting on one's stockings : to dance be-
fore the glass while lacing one's stays : to handle a comb as if it was
a fan, and to brush one's hair with a swimming grace, as if one was
doing a minuet, while the fiddles and the flutes and the hautboys
are playing for you. Before I had finished dressing, however,
Cicely Crump, who was a lively, sprightly girl, with bright eyes
and little nose, about my own age, came to help me, and told me
that those ladies who went abroad to take the air before breakfast
wore in the morning an easy dishabille, and advised me to tie a hood
beneath the chin.

' But not,' she said with a laugh, ' not to hide too much of your
face. What will they say to such a face at the ball V

We followed her advice, and presently sallied forth. Although it
was but seven o'clock, we found a goodly assemblage already gathered
together upon the Terrace, where, early as it was, the shade of the
trees was agreeable as well as beautiful. The ladies, who looked at
us with curiosity, were dressed much like ourselves, and the gentle-
men wore morning-gowns, without swords : some of the elder men
even wore nightcaps, which seemed to me an excessive simplicity.
Everybody talked to his neighbour, and there was a cheerful buzz
of conversation.

' Nothing is changed, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, looking about
her with great satisfaction ; ' nothing except the dresses, and these
not so much as we might have expected. 1 have been asleep, dear,
like the Beauty in the story, for thirty years. But she kept her
youth, that lucky girl, while I— heigh-ho !'

Cicely came with us to show us the way. We went first along
the Terrace and then to the New Parade, which was also beautifully

9

13© THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET-

shaded with elms and limes. Between them lies the pond, with
gold and silver fish, very pretty to look at, and the tumble-down
watch-house at one end. Then she showed us the pump-room.

' Here is the spring,' she said, ' which cures all disorders : the
best medicine in the world.'

There was in the room a dipper, as they call the women who
hand the water to those who go to drink it. We were told that it
was customary to pay our footing with half-a-crown ; but we drank
none of the water, which is not, like that of Tunbridge Wells, sweet
and pleasant to the taste. Then Cicely led us to another building
hard by, a handsome place, having a broad porch with columns, very
elegant. This, it appeared, was the Assembly Room, where were
held the public balls, concerts, and breakfasts. We entered and
looked about us. Mrs. Esther recalled her triumphs in this very
room, and shed a tear over the past. Then a girl accosted us, and
begged permission to enter our names in a great book. This (with
five shillings each by way of fees) made us free of all the entertain-
ments of the season.

Near the Assembly Eooms was the coffee-house, used only by the
gentlemen.

' They pretend,' said Cicely, ' to come here for letter- writing and
to read the news. I do not know how many letters they write, but
I do know what they talk about, because I had it of the girl who
pours out their coffee, and it is not about religion, nor politics, but
all about the toast of the day.'

' What is the toast of the day?' I asked.

Cicely smiled, like a saucy baggage as she was, and said that no
doubt Miss Kitty would soon find out.

'Already,' she said, ' Mr. Walsingham is looking at you.'

I saw an old gentleman already dressed for the morning, with
lace ruffles and a handkerchief for the neck of rich crimson silk,
who sat on one of the benches beneath the trees, his hand upon a
stick, looking at me with a sort of earnestness.

' Hush !' cried Cicely, whispering ; ' he is more than eighty years
of age : he goes every year to Epsom, Bath, and Tunbridge— all
three— and he can tell you the name of the toast in every place for
fifty years, and describe her face.'

A ' toast,' then, was another word for a young lady.

As we passed his bench, the old gentleman rose and bowed with
great ceremony to madam.

' Your most obedient servant, madam,' he said, still looking at
me. ' I trust that the Wells will be honoured by your ladyship
with a long stay. My name is Walsingham, madam, and I am not
unknown here. Permit mc to offer my services to you and to your
lovely daughter.'

'My niece, sir.' Madam returned the bow with a curtsey as
deep. ' My niece, Miss Kitty PleydelL We arrived last night, and
we expect to find our stay so agreeable as to prolong it '

HOW WE WENT TO THE WELLS. 131

' The "Wells, madam, will be delighted.' He bowed again. ' I
hope to be of assistance— some little assistance— in making your
visit pleasant. I have known Epsom Wells, and, indeed, Bath and
Tunbridge as well, for fifty years. Every year has been made
remarkable in one of these places by the appearance of at least one
beautiful face : sometimes there have been even three or four, so
that gentlemen have been divided in opinion. In 1731, for instance,
a duel was fought at Tunbridge Wells, between my Lord Tangueray
and Sir Humphrey Lydgate, about two rival beauties. Generally,
however, the Wells acknowledge but one queen. Yesterday I was
publicly lamenting that we had as yet no one at Epsom whom we
could hope to call Queen of the Wells. Miss Kitty Pleydell '—again
he bowed low — 'I can make that complaint no longer. I salute your
Majesty.'

'Oh, sir,' I said, abashed and confused, 'you are jesting with

me

He replied gravely, that he never jested on so serious a subject as
the beauty of a woman. Then he hoped to see us again upon the
Terrace or on the Downs in the course of the day, and left us with
a low bow.

' I told you, miss,' said Cicely, ' that it would not be long before
you found out what is meant by a toast.'

She next took us to a bookshop, where we learned that for a crown
we could carry home any book we pleased from the shop and read it
at our ease ; only that we must return it in as good condition as we
took it out, which seems reasonable. The people in the shop, as are
all the people at Epsom, were mighty civil ; and madam, partly
with a view of showing the seriousness of her reading, took down a
volume of sermons, which I carried home for her.

Next day, however, she exchanged this for a volume of ' Pamela,'
which now began to occupy our attention almost as much as 'Clarissa'
had done, but caused fewer tears to flow. Now is it not a convenient
thing for people who cannot afford to buy all they would read, thus
to pay a subscription and to borrow books as many as they wish 1 I
think that nothing has ever yet been invented so excellent for the
spread of knowledge and the cultivation of taste. Yet it must not
go too far either ; for should none but the libraries buy new novels,
poems, and other works of imagination, where would be the reward
of the ingenious gentlemen who write them ? No ; let those who
can afford buy books : let those who cannot, buy all they can, and
join the library for those they cannot afford to buy. What room
looks more comfortably furnished than one which has its books in
goodly rows upon the shelves 1 They are better than pictures,
better than vases, better than plates, better than china monkeys ;
for the house that is so furnished need never feel the dulness of a
rainy day.

There remained but two subscriptions to pay before our footing
was fairly established.

9—2

132 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

The leader of the music presented himself, bowing, -with his
subscription-book in his hand . The usual amount was half a guinea.
Madam gave a guinea, being half for herself, and half for me,
writing down our names in the book. I saw, as we came away, that
a little group of gentlemen quickly gathered round the leader and
almost tore the book from his hand.

'They are anxious to find out your name, miss,' said Cicely.
' Then they will go away and talk in the coffee-house, and wonder
who you are and whence you came and what fortune you have. Yet
they call us women gossips !'

Lastly, there was the clergyman's book.

' Heaven forbid,' said madam, ' that we pay for the music and let
the prayers go starving !'

This done, we could return home, having fairly paid our way for
everything, and we found at our lodgings an excellent country
breakfast of cream, new-laid eggs, fresh wild strawberries from
Durdans Park, delicate cakes of Mrs. Crump's own baking, and
chocolate, with Cicely to wait upon us.

It was the godly custom of the place to attend public worship
after breakfast, and at the ringing of the bell we put on our hats
and went to the parish church, where we found most of the ladies
assembled. They were escorted to the doors of the sacred house by
the gentlemen, who left them there. Why men (who are certainly
greater sinners, or sinners in a bolder and more desperate fashion,
than women) should have less need of prayers than we, I know not;
nor why a man should be ashamed of doing what a woman glories
in doing. After their drinkings, their duels, their prodigalities, and
wastefulness, men should methinks crowd into the doors of every
church they can find, women leading them thereto. But let us not
forget that men, when they live outside the fashion and are natural,
are by the bent of their mind generally more religiously disposed
than women : and, as they make greater sinners, so also do they make
more illustrious saints.

When we came out of the church (I forgot to say that we were
now dressed and ready to make as brave a show as the rest) we found
outside the doors a lane of gentlemen, who, as we passed, bowed low,
hat in hand. At the end stood old Mr. Walsingham.

He stood with his hat raised high in air, and a smile upon his lined
and crowsfooted face.

' What did I say, Miss Kitty ?' he whispered. ' Hath not the
Queen of the Wells arrived V

I do not know what I might have said, but I heard a cry of
' Kitty ! Kitty !' and, looking round, saw— oh, the joy !— none other
than my Nancy, prettier than ever, though still but a little thing,
who ran up to me and threw herself in my arms.

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY. 133
CHAPTER III.

HOW NANCY BECKONED UP THE COMPANY.

Nancy Levett herself, pretty and merry, prattling, rattling Nancy,
not grown a bit, and hardly taller than my shoulder. I held her out
at arm's length.

' You here, Nancy V

Then we kissed again.

' And not a bit changed, Nancy !'

' And oh ! so changed, Kitty. So tall and grand. Come to my
mother.'

Lady Levett was standing close by with Sir Robert, who took me
by the shoulders and kissed my cheeks, forehead and lips in fatherly
fashion.

' Gadso !' he cried. ' This is brave indeed. Things are likely to
go well at Epsom. We have got back our Kitty, wife.'

Lady Levett was colder. Perhaps she had misgivings on what
had been done with me for the last twelvemonth. And then I, who
had gone away a simple, rustic maid, was now in hoops, patches and
powder.

'Kitty will tell us presently,' she said, ' I doubt not, what she has
done, and under whose protection she is travelling.'

Then I hastened to present Mrs. Esther, who stood aside, some-
what embarrassed.

' Madam,' I said, ' I present to you my benefactress and guardian ,
Mrs. Esther, to whose care I was entrusted by my uncle. Dear aunt,
this is my Lady Levett. Mrs. Esther Pimpernel, madam, hath done
me the singular kindness of calling me her niece.'

' My niece and daughter by adoption,' said that kind lady. ' Your
ladyship will be pleased, out of your goodness of heart, to hear the
best report of this dear child's health and conduct. The good
principles, my lady, which she learned of you and of her lamented
father, have borne fruit in virtues of obedience and duty.'

Both ladies made a deep reverence. Then said Lady Levett :

' I assure you, my dear madam, I looked for nothing less in this
dear child. From such a father as was hers, could aught but good
descend ? Madam, I desire your better acquaintance. For Kitty's
sake, I hope we may be friends.'

' Why,' said Sir Robert, ' we are friends already. Kitty, thou art
grown : thou art a fine girl. I warrant we shall have breaking of
hearts before all is done. Epsom Wells was never so full of gallants.
Well, breaking of hearts is rare sport, and seldom hurts the men,
though they make so great a coil about it in their rhymes and
nonsense. But have a care, both of you : sometimes the girls get
their own little cockleshells of hearts broken in earnest.'

134 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

' I should like to see the man among them all who could break my
heart,' said Nancy pertly, laughing.

' Yours V her father asked, tapping her pretty rosy cheek. ' It ia
such a little one, no one can find it : nevertheless, lass, it is big
enough to carry all thy father's in it, big as he is.'

Then we began to ask questions all together. I to inquire after the
village and the hall, the church, the ponies, the garden, the hounds,
the fruit, all the things we used to think about : and Will, they
told me, was at home, but was coming to the Wells for certain races
in which he would himself ride. Harry Temple was gone to London,
but would perhaps come to Epsom as soon as he knew who was
there. Why had I written not one single letter ?

I blushed and hung my head. I could not tell the truth, for the
sake of Mrs. Esther, how I was ashamed at first to speak of the
place in which I found myself, and afterwards was afraid ; but I
should have to explain my silence.

' It was not,' I stammered, ' that I was ungrateful to your lady-
ship for all your kindness. But things were strange at first, and
there was nothing that I could take any pleasure in telling your
ladyship. And a London letter from a simple girl, who can send no
news of the great world, is a worthless thing to deliver by the
post.'

' Nay, child,' said Lady Levett, ' we should not have grudged the
charge for good tidings of thy welfare.'

' Our Kitty,' said Mrs. Esther, colouring a little, for it is never
pleasant to help at concealing, dissembling, or falsifying things, 'has
had a busy time of late. Your ladyship knows, doubtless, that her
education was not completed. We have had masters and teachers
of dancing, music, deportment, and the like during the last few
months, and I trust that we shall find she will do credit to the
instruction she has received. Meanwhile I have, for reasons which
it would not interest your ladyship to learn, been living in great
retirement. We had a lodging lately in Eed Lion Street, not far
from the Foundling Hospital, where the air is good and the situation
quiet.'

We fell, presently, into a sort of procession. First went Lady
Levett and Mrs. Esther (I overheard the latter speaking at length
of her father, the Lord Mayor, of her grandfather, also the Lord
Mayor, and of her last visit to Epsom), then came Nancy, Sir
Robert, who held my hand, and myself. The music, which had
stopped during prayers, began again now. The Terrace was crowded
with the visitors, and Nancy began to point them out to me as we
walked along.

'Look, child — oh ! how beautiful you have grown ! — there is Mr.
Pagoda Tree — it is really Samuel Tree, or Obadiah Tree, or, I think,
Crabapple Tree, but they all call him Pagoda Tree : he has made a
quarter of a million in Bengal, and is come running to Path, Epsom
and Tunbridge, in search of a wife. With all his money I, for one,

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY. 13;

would not have hfm, the yellow little Nabob ' lie has five-arid-
twenty blacks at his lodgings, and they say he sticks dinner-knives
into them if his curry be not hot enough. There goes the Dean of St.
Sepulchre's. He is come to drink the waters, which are good for
a stomach enfeebled by great dinners ; there is no better fox-hunter
in the county, and no finer judge of port. Pity to be seventy years
old when one has all the will and the power to go on doing good t<>
the Christian Church by fox-hunting and drinking' — lie was cer-
tainly a very red-faced divine, who looked as if this world was more
in his thoughts than the next, where, so far as we know, fox-hunting
will not be practised and port will not be held in esteem. ' You see
yonder little fribble, my dear — do not look at him, or it will make
him think the better of himself: he is a haberdasher from town,
who pretends to be a Templar. A fribble, Kitty — oh ! you innocent,
tall, beautiful creature ! — a fribble is a thing made up of rags, wig,
ruffles, wind, froth, amber cane, paint, powder, coat-skirts and
sword. Nothing else, I assure you. No brains, no heart, no ears,
no taste, nothing. There are many fribbles at the Wells, who will
dance with you, talk to you, and — if you have enough money —
would like to run away with you. Don't throw yourself away on a
fribble, Kitty. And don't run away with anybody. Nothing so
uncomfortable.

' That gallant youth in the red-coat is an officer, who had better
be with Iris colours in America than showing his scarlet at the Wells.

Yet he is a pretty fellow, is he not ? Here are more clergymen '

One of them somewhat reminded me of my uncle, for he wore, like
him, a full wig, a cassock of silk, and a flowing gown ; also, he
carried his head with the assurance which belongs to one who is a
teacher of men, and respects his own wisdom. But he differed from
my uncle in being sleek, which the famous Chaplain of the Fleet
certainly was not. He dropped his eyes as he went, inwardly rapt,
no doubt, by heavenly thoughts.

' That,' Nancy went on, ' is the great Court preacher, the Eeverend
Bellaniour Parolles, Master of Arts. The shabby divine beside him
is the Vicar of Sissingimrst, in Kent, who is here to drink the
waters for a complaint that troubles the poor man. What a
difference !'

The country parson went dressed in a grey-striped calamanco
nightgown ; he wore a wig which had once been white, but was
now, by the influence of this uncertain climate, turned to a pale
orange ; his brown hat was encompassed by a black hatband ; his
bands, which might have been cleaner, decently retired under the
shadow of his chin ; his grey stockings were darned with blue
worsted. As they walked together it seemed to me that the country
parson was saying to the crowd : 'You see— I am in rags ; I go in
darns, patches, and poverty ; yet by my sacred profession and my
learning, I am the equal of my brother in silk.' While the more
prosperous one might have been thought to say : ' Behold the

136 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

brotherhood and equality of the Church, when I, the great and
fashionable, know no difference between myself and my humble
brethren !'

In the afternoon and evening there was, however, this difference,
that the town parson was seen at the Assembly Rooms among the
ladies, while his country brother might have been seen at the Crown,
over a pipe and a brown George full of strong October.

Then Nancy went on to point out more of the visitors. There
were merchants, well known on the Royal Exchange ; courtiers from
St. James's ; country gentlemen, with their madams, brave in muslin
pinners and sarsnet hoods, from estates remote from the great town,
where they had never ceased to consider themselves the feudal lords
of the people as well as the land : there were younger sods full of
talk about horses and hounds : there were doctors in black, with
bag-wigs : there were lawyers in vacation, their faces as full of
sharpness as is the face of a fox : there were your.g fellows not yet
launched upon the fashionable world, who looked on with the shy-
ness and impudence of youth, trying to catch the trick of dress,
manner and carriage which marks the perfect beau ; there were old
fellows, like Mr. Walsingham, who sat on the benches, or ran about,
proud of their activity, in attendance on the ladies. It was indeed
a motley crew.

' They say that Epsom has come into fashion again,' Nancy went
on. ' I know not. Tunbridge is a dangerous rival. Yet this year
the place is full. That young man coming to speak to me you may
distinguish by your acquaintance, my dear.'

"What a distinction ! ' He is— I hope your lordship is well this
morning — he is the young Lord Eardesley, whose father is but just
dead. He is a Virginian by birth, and all his fortune, with which
the family estates have been recovered, was made by tobacco on his
plantations. He has hundreds of negro slaves, besides convicts.
Yet he is of grave and serious disposition, and abhors the smell of
a pipe. Peggy Baker thinks to catch his lordship. Yet coronets
are not so easily won.'

She stopped again to speak to some ladies of her acquaintance.

' Well, my dear, as for our manner of life here, it is the same as
at all watering-places. We dress and undress : we meet at church,
and on the Terrace and the New Parade, and the Assembly Rooms :
we go to the Downs to see races before dinner and after dinner :
we talk scandal : we say wicked things about each other : we try
to catch the eyes of the men : we hate each other with malice and un-
charitableness : we raffle : we gamble : we listen to the music : we
exchange pretty nothings with the beaux : we find out all the stories
about everybody here : and we dance at the Assembly.'

She stopped to breathe.

' This is a rattle,' said Sir Robert, ' which never stops— like the
clack of the water-wheel. Go on, Nan.'

' One of our amusements,' she went on, tossing her little head,

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY. 137

' is to buy strawberries, cherries, vegetables, salad, fowls and ducka
of the higglers who bring them to the market, or carry them round
to the houses of the town. The gentlemen, I observe, derive a pecu-
liar satisfaction in chucking those of the higglers who are young
and good-looking under the chin. This, I confess, is a pleasure
which I cannot for my own part understand/

' Saucy baggage !' said her father.

' You and I, Kitty/ she continued, 'who do not want to chuck
farmers' daughters under the chin, may, when we are tired of the
races or the promenade, take an airing in a coach, or watch the
raffling, or the card-players. Here they play cards all day long,
except on Sunday. Or we may go to the book-shop and hear the
latest scandal : or we may go home and trim our own things and
talk about frocks, and patches, and poetry, and lace, and lovers. But,
for Heaven's sake, Kitty, do not, in this censorious place, make that
pretty face too cheap, and let no one follow you on the Terrace but
the best of the company.'

' Good advice,' said Sir Eobert. ' This girl of mine has got her
father's head.'

'As for cards,' Nancy went on, taking no notice of her father's
interruption, ' the tables are always laid in the Assembly Eoom :
the ladies mostly play at quadrille, and the gentlemen at whist ;
but there are tables for hazard, lansquenet, faro, and baccarat, where
all comers are welcome, provided they have got money to lose and
can lose it without also losing their temper, a thing we women
throw away daily, and lose without regarding it, so cheap and abun-
dant a commodity it is. My dear, so long as I value my face, I will
never touch the odious delightful things. Yet the joy of winning
your enemy's money ! Oh ! oh ! And the dreadful grief to lose
your own !

' There is a concert this evening. I would not advise you to attend
it, but to wait for Monday's ball— there to make your first appear-
ance. ^ I shall go, because some of my swains are going to play with
the paid musicians ; and of course I look to see them break down
and spoil the whole music, to their great confusion.

' But Monday— Monday is our day of days. All Sunday we think
about it, and cannot say our prayers for thinking of the dear de-
lightful day. And what the clergyman preaches about none of us
know, for wishing the day was here. On Monday we have a great-
public breakfast to begin with : the gentry come to it from all the
country-side, with the great people from Durdans : in fine weather
we breakfast under the trees upon the Terrace while the music plays.
You will find it pleasant to take your chocolate to the strains of
flute and clarionet, Trench horn and hautboy ; the sunshine raises
the spirits, and the music fills the head with pretty fancies. Besides,
every girl likes to be surrounded by tall fellows who, though we
care not a pin for one of them, are useful for providing conversation,
cakes, and creams, telling stories, saying gallant things, fetching,

138 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

carrying, and making Peggy Baker jealous. On Monday, too, there
are always matches on the Downs : we pretend to be interested in
the horses : we come back to dinner and a concert : in the after-
noon, some of the gentlemen give tea and chocolate ; and at six
o'clock, the fiddles tune up — oh, the delicious scraping ! — we all take
our places : and then begins — oh ! oh ! oh ! — the dear, delightful
ball ! My child, let Miss Peggy Baker dress her best, put on her
finest airs, and swim about with her most languishing sprawl, I
know who shall outshine her, and be the Queen of the Wells.'

' Yourself, dear Nancy V

' No ; not myself, dear Nancy,' she replied, imitating. ' Oh ! you
well may blush for shame, pretty hypocrite ! "lis yourself, dear
Kitty, that I mean. You shall burst upon their astonished gaze
like Venus rising from the sea in our picture at home, only better
dressed than that poor creature !'

Just then a young lady, with the largest hoop I had ever seen,
with patches and powder, and accompanied by three or four gentle-
men, came slowly along the walk. As she drew near she looked at
me with curiosity. She was a tall girl — nearly as tall as myself—
with features rather larger than ordinary, and as she moved I under-
stood what Nancy meant by languishing and swimming.

Nancy ran to meet her, taking her by both hands, and affecting a
mighty joy.

* Dear Miss Peggy,' she began, ' I am charmed to see you looking
so well and lovely. How that dress becomes your shape ! with
what an air sits that hat !'

' Oh, Miss Nancy !' Miss Peggy swam and languished, agitating
her fan and half shutting her eyes, which were very large and
limpid.

' Praise from such a judge of beauty and dress as yourself is rare
indeed. What should we poor women do without the discrimina-
tion of our own sex 1 Men have no discernment. A well-dressed
woman and a draggletail are all one to them.'

' Not all men, dear Miss Peggy,' continued Nancy, her eyes spark-
ling. ' Mr. Walsingham was only saying this morning that you are,
like himself, a proof of the salubrity of the Wells, since it is now the
fifth season '

' The third, dear child,' Miss Peggy interrupted, with a tap of
her fan on Nancy's knuckles — indeed, she deserved it. ' I am very
much obliged to Mr. Walsingham, whose tongue is free with all
the ladies at the Wells. It is but yesterday since he said of
you '

' This is my friend, Miss Kitty Pleydell,' said Nancy quickly,
rubbing her knuckles. ' Kitty, my dear, you have heard of the
beautiful Peggy Baker, last year the Toast of Tunbridge Wells, and
the year before the Toast of Bath. Up to the present she has been
our pride. On Monday evening you shall see her in her bravest
attire, the centre of attraction, envied by us poor homely creatures,

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY 139

•who have to content ourselves with the rustic beaux, the parson3,
the lawyers, and the half-pay officers.'

Now, whether this artful girl did it on purpose, or whether it
was by accident, I know not : but every word of this speech
contained an innuendo against poor Miss Peggy. For it was true
that she had been for two years following a Toast, but she was still
unmarried, and without a lover, though she had so many men for
ever in her train ; and it was also true that among her courtiers at
Epsom, the little band who held back while the ladies talked,
there were, as I afterwards learned, at least three rustic beaux,
two lawyers, a fashionable parson, and six half-pay oflicers. How-
ever, she disguised whatever resentment she might have felt, very
kindly bade me welcome to the Wells, hoped that I should enjoy
the place, told Nancy that her tongue run away with her, and that
she was a saucy little baggage, tapped her knuckles for the second
time with her fan, and moved away.

When Nancy had finished telling me of the amusements of the
place and the people — I omit most of what she said as to the
people because, although doubtless true, the stories did not re-
dound to their credit, and may now very well be forgotten — we
left the Terrace, Sir Eobert now joining madam, and looked at the
stalls and booths which were ranged along the side. They were
full of pretty things exhibited for sale, and instead of rude prentice
boys for salesmen they were good-looking girls, with whom some of
the gentlemen were talking and laughing.

' More chin-chucking, my dear,' said Nancy.

It was the fashion to have a lottery at almost every stall, so that
when you bought anything you received a ticket with your pur-
chase, which entitled you to a chance of the prize. When you
tthose a bottle of scent, the girl who gave it you handed with it a
ticket which gave you the chance of winning five guineas : with a
pair of stockings came a ticket for a ten-guinea lottery. It was
the same thing with all the shops. A leg of mutton bought at the
butcher's might procure for the purchaser the sum of twenty
guineas ; the barber who dressed your hair presented you with a
chance for his five-guinea draw : the very taverns and ordinaries
had their lotteries, so that for every sixpenny piate of boiled beef
a 'prentice had his chance with the rest, and might win a guinea :
you ordered a dozen oysters, and they came with the fishmonger's
compliments and a ticket for his lottery, the first prize of which
would be two guineas, the drawing to take place on such a day,
with auditors appointed to see all fair, and school children named
to pull out the tickets : even the woman who sold apples and
cherries in a basket loudly bellowed along the street that she had
a half-crown draw, a five-shilling draw, and so on. Every one of
us treasured up the tickets, but I never met any who won. Yet
we had the pleasure of attending the drawing, dreaming of lucky
numbers, and spending our prizes beforehand. I am sure that

140 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

Nancy must have spent in this way many hundreds of poundi
during the season, and by talking over all the fine things she would
buy, the way in which their exhibition upon her little figure would
excite the passion of envy in the breast of Peggy Baker and others,
and her own importance thus bedecked, she had quite as much
pleasure out of her imaginary winnings as if they had been real
ones. It is a happy circumstance for mankind that they are able
to enjoy what they never can possess, and to be, in imagination,
the great, the glorious, the rich, the powerful personages which
they can never, in the situation wherein Providence has placed
them, hope to become.

Presently we went home to dinner, which was served for us by
Cicely Crump. After dinner, while Mrs. Esther dozed, Cicely told
me her history. Her father, she said, had been a substantial
tradesman in Cheapside, and though little of stature, was in his
youth a man of the most determined courage and resolution.
When only just out of his apprenticeship he fell in love with a
beautiful young lady named Jenny Medlicott (daughter of the
same Alderman Medlicott whose ruin brought poor Mrs. Esther to
destruction) : as he knew that he could never get the consent of
the alderman, being poor and of obscure birth, and knowing be-
sides that all is fair in love, this lad of mettle represented himself
to his nymph as a young gentleman of the Temple, son of a country
squire. In this disguise he persuaded her to run away with him,
and they were married. But when they returned to London they
found that the alderman was ruined, and gone off his head. There-
fore they separated, the lady going to Virginia with Lady Eardesley,
mother of the young lord now at Epsom, and the husband going
back to the shop. After the death of poor Jenny he married
again. ' And,' said Cicely, ' though my mother is no gentlewoman,
one cannot but feel that she might have been Miss Jenny Medli-
cott herself had things turned out differently. And that makes
all of us hold up our heads. And as for poor father, he never
forgot his first wife, and was always pleased to relate how he rati
away with her all the way to Scotland, armed to the teeth, and
ready, for her sake, to fight a dozen highwaymen. Such a reso-
lute spirit he had V

Then Nancy Levett came, bringing with hor a milliner, Mr3.
Bergamot.

' Kitty,' she cried, ' I cannot rest for thinking of your first ball,
and I have brought you Mrs. Bergamot to advise. My dear, you
must be well dressed.' Then she whispered : 'Do you want money,
dear? I have some.'

I told her I had as much as a hundred and twenty guineas, at
which she screamed with delight.

' Kitty !' she cried again, clasping my hands. ' A hundred
guineas ! a hundred guineas ! and twenty more ! My dear, that
odd twenty, that poor overflowing of thy rich measure, is the ut*

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY. 141

most I could get for this season at the Wells. Oh ! happy, happy
girl, to have such a face, such a shape, such eyes, such Lair, such
hands and feet, and a hundred and twenty guineas to set all off!"

She sat down, clasped her hands, and raised her eyes to heaven
as if in thankfulness. I think I see her now, the little dainty
merry maid, so arch, so apt, sitting before me with a look which
might be of envy or of joy. She had eyes so bright, a mouth so
little, dimples so cunning, a cheek so rosy and a chin so rounded,
that one could not choose but love her.

Miss Pleydell,' she said to the milliner, ' has not brought all
her things from London. You must get what she wants at once,
for Monday's ball. Now, let us see.'

Then we held a parliament of four, counting Cicely, over the
great question of my frocks. Nancy was prime minister, and did
all the talking, turning over the things.

' Let me see, Mrs. Bergamot. Fetch us, if you have them —
what you have — in flowered brocades — all colours — violet, pink,
Italian posies, rose, myrtle, jessamine, anything ; a watered tabby
would become you, Kitty ; any painted lawns, — silks and satins
would be almost too old for you : do not forgot the patches a la
grecque — Kitty, be very careful of the patches ; gauzes, what you
have, Mrs. Bergamot ; we want more hoods, a feathered muff,
stomacher, Paris nets, eau de Chypre or eau de luce, whichever
you have; ear-rings are no use to you. my poor child. Pity that
they did not pierce your ears : see the little drops dangling at
mine. At any rate, thank Heaven that we neither of us want ver-
milion for the cheeks. Poor Peggy ! she paints these two years and
more. Buffs, Mrs. Bergamot, and tippets, cardinals, any pretty
thing in sarsnets, and what you have in purple. Kitty, purple is
your colour. You shall have a dress all purple for the next ball.
Ah ! if I could carry purple ! But you, Kitty, with your height
and figure — stand up, child — why, she will be Juno herself!'

'Truly,' said the dressmaker, ' as for Miss Pleydell, purple has
come into fashion in pudding-time, as folk say.'

' A pretty woman," Nancy went on, examining me as if I had
been a dummy, 'not a pretty " little thing" like me, is as rare in
Epsom as a black swan or a white blackbird, or green yellow-
hammer, or a red blue-tit.'

When the dressmaker was gone, and we were left alone, Nancy
began again, out of her great experience, to talk of the place we
were in.

'My dear,' she said, 'before one's father one cannot say all that
one would wish ' — could such wisdom be possible at seventeen-
and-a-half? ' This is a very shocking and wicked place ; we used
to be taught that girls ought to sit in a corner, after they had put
on their best things, and wait to be spoken to, and not to think
about attracting the men ; and not, indeed, to think about the men
at all, save in their own room, where they might perhaps pray that

H2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

if there were any men in the world not addicted to gambling, drink >
ing, cursing, hunting, fighting, and striking, those men might be
led by Heaven to cast eyes of love upon them. Oh !' — here she
held up her hands and shook her head just like a woman four times
her age, and steeped in experience — ' in this place it is not long
that the girls sit in a corner, and, indeed, I do not greatly love
corners myself; but the very wives, the matrons, the married
women, my dear,' — her voice rose with each word till it had
mounted nearly to the top of the possible scale, — ' are coquettes,
who interfere with the girls, 'and would have the gallants dangling
at their heels. As for their husbands, they are the last persons
considered worthy of their notice ; they put on their dresses and
deck themselves out to please anybody rather than the persons
whom it should be their only study to please.'

' Nancy,' I whispered, ' when you are married, will you never,
never dress to please anybody but your husband?'

' Why,' she replied, ' my father, my mother, my children (if I
have any), my friends will be pleased to see me go fine. But not
for lovers — oh !'

We agreed that would-be lovers should be received and properly
dealt with before marriage.

' Bashfulness, here,' continued the pretty moralist, 'is — Heaven
help us ! — lack of breeding ; what goes down is defiance of manners
and modesty. Propriety is laughed at ; noise is wit ; laughter is
repartee ; most of the women gamble ; nearly all are in debt ; no-
body reads anything serious ; and we backbite each other per-
petually.'

I know not what had put her in so strange a mood for moralis-
ing.

'However,' she said, 'now that you are come, we shall get on
better. I have made up my mind that you are to be the Toast of
the season. I shall set you off", because you are brown and I am
fair ; you are tall, and I am short ; you are grave, and I am merry ;
you are thoughtful, and I am silly ; you have brown eyes, and I
have blue. We will have none but the best men about us ; we will
set such an example as will shame the hoydens of girls and tame
the Mohocks among the men. Miss Lamb of Hackney, who thinks
herself a beauty, will then be ashamed to jump about and scream
at the Assembly with nothing over her skinny shoulders. Peggy
Baker shall have after her none but the married men (who are of
no possible use except to spoil a girl's reputation), although she
sighs and swims and sprawls with her eyes half shut. Do you
know that she sat for her portrait to Zincke, at Marylebone
Gardens, as Anne Boleyn, and was painted with eyelashes down
to the corners of her mouth?'

' Nancy,' I cried, ' you are jealous of Miss Peggy Baker.'
She laughed, and talked of something else. From this I con-
jectured that Peggy had said or reported something which offended

HOW NANCY RECKONED UP THE COMPANY. 143

her. What had really been said, I learned afterwards, was that
Nancy was running after Lord Eardesley, which was unkind as
well as untrue.

' Last year,' she said, ' after you went away, nothing would scrre
my mother but a visit to Bath. It is not so gay as Tunbridge
Wells, because the company are mostly country folk, like our-
selves, who stand upon their dignity ; but it is better than this
place, where there are so many London cits that it passes one's
patience, sometimes, to see their manners' — really, Nancy must
have been seriously put out. ' However, I dare say Bath is as
wicked as any of the watering towns, when you come to know it.
I liked the bathing. What do you think, Kitty, of everybody pro-
menading in the water up to their chins — that is to say, the little
people, like me, up to their noses (only I wore pattens to make
myself higher), and the tall men up to their shoulders, in hot water?
Everybody frolicking, flirting, and chattering, while japanned trays
float about covered with confectionery, tea, oils, and perfumes for
the ladies ; and when you go awaj, your chair is nothing but a tub
full of hot water, in which you are carried home. We stayed there
all July and August, though my mother would have kept me, if she
could, from the baths till 1 was bigger. Harry Temple was there,
too, part of the time.'

' And how doth Harry P'

' He is a good honest fellow,' said Nancy, ' though conceited and
a prig ; his mouth full of learned words, and his head full of books.
He seemed to pine after your departure, Kitty, but soon recovered
himself, and now eats and drinks again as before. He found some
congenial spirits from Oxford at Bath, and they used to talk of
Art, and pictures (when anyone was listening), and bronzes, and
all sorts of things that we poor people know nothing of.'

Then she told me how Harry had made a poem upon me, after
my departure, which he turned into Latin, Greek, and Italian, and
had given Nancy a copy. And how Will had christened one pup
Kitty, and another Pleydell, and a third Kitty Pleydell, and was
casting around how to give a fourth puppy my name as well.

It seemed so long ago that I had almost forgotten poor rustic
Will, with his red face, his short sturdy figure, and his determination.

'Dear Kitty,' said Nancy, 'if thou couldst take a fancy for our
Will — he is a brave lad, though dull of parts and slow of apprehen-
sion. As for Harry ' — here she stopped, and blushed.

I remembered my secret, and blushed as well (but for guilt and
shame) ; while poor Nancy blushed in maiden modesty.

'Hear Nancy,' I replied, kissing her, believe me, but I could
never marry your brother Will. And as for Harry '

' As for Harry,' she echoed, with downcast eyes.

It was easy to read her secret, though she could not guess mine.

' As for Harry,' I said, ' where could he be better bestowed
than '

144 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Here I kissed her again, and said no more, because between tw«
women what more need be said ?

Alas! I had quite forgotten — indeed, I never suspected — that I
■was actually engaged to become the wife of both Harry and Will,
who was at this same time the wife of Lord Chudleigh, And both
men were on their way to Epsom to claim the promise.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALI..

If I were to write all that Nancy said on Saturday afternoon it
would fill a volume ; and if I were to write down all that we four
said about my dress for the Monday Ball, it would take four
volumes at least, so nimbly ran our tongues. It was determined,
however, that the purple frock should be put in hand at once, with
ribbons and everything to correspond ; but that for this occasion, as
time pressed, we would take my best frock, a new white satin, never
before worn. Mrs. Bergamot would dress me, and the hair-dresser
was engaged for two o'clock.

' Everything,' said Nancy, ' depends upon the first impression.
Already the world is agog to see the beautiful Miss Pleydell dressed.
As for me, my dear, nobody noticed my first appearance at all.
And yet I thought I looked very nice. To be sure, a person of my
inches cannot expect to command attention. I am feeling my way,
however, and though I am little, my tongue is sharp. After Monday
we will have our court, you and I, to ourselves. The men will be
at our feet, and Peggy may lie all on a rock deploring.'

I asked her afterwards how she could speak so openly before this
milliner, who would probably tell all the town what she had said.

' My dear,' she replied sharply, 'your Nancy is not altogether a
goose, and she knows what she is doing. Mrs. Bergamot is a most
trustworthy person. I quite rely upon her. I have never known
her fail in her duties as town-crier. She will spread it abroad that
you have brought a hundred guineas and more to spend in frocks
and things ; she will tell everybody that you have ordered a purple
velvet in the first fashion ; she will not fail to repeat that you and
I together mean to lead the company at the Wells ; she will probably
tell Peggy that she may go and sit on a rock deploring ; and she
will inform Miss Lamb of Hackney that her shoulders are skinny.
They cannot hate us worse than they do, therefore we will make
tbem fear us.'

What a little spitfire was this Nancy of mine !

To the religious and the sober, Sunday is a day of serious medita-
tion as well as of rest : to me, the Sunday before the ball was a day
of such worldly tumult as should afford ample room for repentance

HOW KITTY WENT TO HER MUST BALL. 145

in these later years. Unhappity, we repent but seldom of these
youthful sins. Yet, when we went to church, the organ seemed to
play a minuet, the hymns they sang might have been a hey or a jig
in a country dance, and the sermon of the preacher might have been
a discourse on the pleasures and enjoyments of the world, so rapt
was my mind in contemplation of these vanities.

The service over, we walked out through a lane of the godless
men who had not gone to church. Nancy came after me very
demure, carrying her Prayer-book, her eyes cast down as if rapt in
heavenly meditation. But her thoughts were as worldly as my own,
and she presently found an opportunity of whispering that Peggy
Baker had thrown glances of the greatest ferocity from her pew at
herself and me, that Mrs. Bergamot had already spread the news
about, and that the concourse of men at the door of the sacred place
was entirely on my account. 'If it was not Sunday,' she added,
1 and if it were not for the crowd around us, I should dance and
sing.'

The time for opening the ball was six, at which time dancing
began, and was continued until eleven, according to the laws wisely
laid down by that public benefactor and accomplished Amphitryon,
Mr. Nash, who effected so much improvement for Bath and
Tunbridge that his rules were adopted for all other watering-places.
Before his time there were no fixed hours or fixed prices, the laws
af precedence were badly observed, the gentlemen wore their swords,
and disputes, which sometimes ended in duels, were frequent and
unseemly. Now, however, nothing could be more oi-derly than the
manner of conducting the entertainment. The charge for admission
was half-a-crown for gentlemen, and one shilling for ladies ; no
words were permitted, and the ball was opened by the gentleman
>i the highest rank in the room. At Epsom, a country squire or a
'.ity knight was generally the best that could be procured, whereas
it Bath an earl was not uncommon, and even a duke was sonie-
imes seen.

My hairdresser, who was, on these occasions, engaged from six

•'clock in the morning until six in the evening, was iortunately able

give me half an hour at two o'clock, so that I had not more than

our hours or so to sit without moving my head. This was a very

mppy circumstance, many ladies having to be dressed early in the

norning, so that for the whole day they could neither walk about

lor move for fear of the structure toppling over altogether. Mrs.

Bergamot herself dressed me. I wore my white satin frock over a

treat hoop with fine new point-lace for tuckers ; my kerchief and

uffles were in lace, and I had on a pearl and coral necklace, presented

me by Mrs. Esther, who was contented to wear a black ribbon

ouud her neck in order that I might go the finer. As for herself,

he wore a rich brocade, which greatly became her and made her

jok like a countess.

10

146 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Nay, child,' she said, ' not a countess, but like a gentlewoman,
as hath ever been my simple ambition, and the daughter of a great
London merchant.'

But to think that in every house in Epsom there was one girl, at
least, or perhaps two, who were spending as much time and thought
as myself upon the decoration of our persons for this ball ! And
what chance had I of distinction among so many fine women of lesa
rustic breeding V

' She will do, Mrs. Bergamot, I tbink,' said Mrs. Esther.

' Madam,' replied the dressmaker, who no doubt considered it
part of her business to flatter her customers, 'Madam, I dare
swear that there hath not appeared — I do not say at Epsom alone,
but at Tunbridge and at Bath — so beautiful a creature in the
memory of man. Mr. Walsingham, who remembers all the beauties
for fifty years, declares that Miss Kitty surpasses all. Straight as
a lance, madam, and shapely as a statue, with such aface as will deal
havoc and destruction among the men.'

Mrs. Esther nodded her head and laughed. Then she shook her
head and looked grave.

' We must not become vain, Kitty,' she said. ' Beauty is but
skin-deep ; it fades like the flowers : think only of virtue and good-
ness, which never fade. And yet, child, thou art young: thou art
beautiful : be happy in the sunshine, as is meet. Thank Heaven for
sunshine !'

She pressed my hand in hers, and the tears rose to her eyes.
Was she thinking of her own youth, which had been so unhappy ?

When Mrs. Bergamot left us, she confessed to me that, like me,
she had been in a strange agitation of spirit at the contemplation of
this assembly.

' It is thirty years,' she said, ' since I have been in a gay crowd.
I thought that such a thing as the sight of youth and happiness
would never come to me again. And to think that, after all these
years, I should go back to the very room where, in 1720, amid a
crowd of adventurers, speculators and gamblers, who were going to
ruin us all, T attended my last ball !'

This was while we were waiting for the chairs.

'I think,' she went on, in her soft voice, which was like the
Tippling of a stream, ' that my child will do credit to herself. I am
glad that you have kept your neck covered, my dear. I would
rather see you go modest than fine. I hope that Lady Levett will
be there before us. In such cases as this the sight of a friend gives
us, as it were, an encouragement : it is like a prop to lean against.
I hope the chairs will not be late. On the other hand, one would
not, surely, arrive too early. My dear, I am trembling all over.
Are you sure you have forgotten none of your steps ? Ah ! if no
one were to ask you to dance, I should die of shame and mortifica-
tion ! But they will — oh ! they will. My Kitty is too beautiful to
sit among the crowd of lookers-on.'

HOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALL. 147

Here came Cicely, running to tell us that the chairs were below,
and that the men swore they could not wait.

' A minute — one minute only. Dear, dear, how quick the girl is !
Cicely, take one last look at Miss Kitty. Do you think, child, she
has got everything, and is properly dressed V

1 Quite properly, madam. No lady in the assembly will shine like
Miss Pleydell.'

' Good girl. And, Cicely, if you see that anything is wanting in
my dress, do not scruple to tell me. Young eyes are sometimes
quicker than old ones.'

' Nothing, madam. Your ladyship is dressed in the fashion.'

Then the chairmen, who, like all their tribe, were unmannerly
fellows, bellowed that they would wait no longer, and we descended
the stairs. One would have been ashamed to confess the fact, but it
actually was the very first time I had ever sat in a chair. The
shaking was extremely disagreeable, and one could not, at the be-
ginning, feel anything but pity for the poor men who made their
living by carrying about the heavy bodies of people too fine or too
lazy to walk. However, that feeling soon wore off: just as the
West Indian and Virginian planters learn by degrees to believe that
their negro slaves like to work in the fields, are thankful for the
lash, and prefer digging under a hot sun to sleeping in the shade.

We arrived at the Assembly Rooms a few minutes before six.
The rooms were already crowded : the curtains were drawn, and the
light of day excluded. But in its place there was a ravishing dis-
play of wax candles, arranged upon the walls on sconces, or hanging
from the ceiling. The musicians in the gallery were already begin-
ning, as is their wont, to tune their instruments, twanging and
blowing, just as a preacher begins with a preliminar}' hem.

My eyes swam as I surveyed the brilliant gathering ; for a
moment I held Mrs. 'Esther by the wrist, and could say nothing nor
move. I felt like an actress making her appearance for the first
time upon the stage, and terrified, for the moment, by the faces look-
ing up, curious and critical, from the crowded pit and glittering boxes.

At that moment Lady Levett arrived with her party. I think Sir
Robert saw our distress and my guardian's anxiety to appear at her
ease, for he kindly took Mrs. Esther by the hand, and led her, as if
she were the greatest lady in the assembly, to the upper end, while
Nancy and I followed after.

' Oh, Kitty !' she whispered ; ' there is no one half so beautiful as
you — no one in all the room ! How the men stare ! Did they
never see a pretty woman before ? Wait in patience for a little, ye
would-be lovers, till your betters are served. Peggy Baker, my
dear, you will burst with envy. Look ! Here she comes with her
courtiers.'

In fact, Miss Baker herself here appeared with her mother, sur-
rounded by three or four gentlemen, who hovered about her, and
ehe languidly advanced up the room.

10—2

148 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

She came straight to us, and, after saluting Lady Levett and Mrs.
Esther, held out her hand to Nancy and curtseyed to me.

' You look charming to-night, dear Miss Nancy. That frock of
yours — one is never tired of it.'

' And you — oh, dear Miss Peggy !'

Nancy turned white, because her frock was really rather an old
one.

' It is good wearing stuff,' said Miss Peggy. ' Yet I had thought
that mode gone out.'

' So it had, my dear,' said Nancy, sharply ; ' and I believe it went
cut five seasons ago. That is longer than I can recollect. But it has
come back again. Fashions do revive, sometimes.'

This was a very ill-natured thing to say, and made poor Miss Peggy
wince and colour, and she did not retaliate, because, I suppose, she
could think of nothing to say.

Then old Mr. Walsingham, who had constituted himself the
director of the ceremonies, appeared. Ho was dressed in the most
beautiful crimson silk coat, lined with white, and purple waistcoat,
and he came slowly up the hall, with a gentleman whose bearing was
as great as his own, but whose years were less.

' It is young Lord Chudleigh,' whispered Peggy Baker, fanning
herself anxiously. ' He has come from Durdans with his party.'

Lord Chudleigh !

Heavens I To meet in such a manner, in such a place, my own
husband !

'What is the matter, Kitty dear V asked Nancy. ' You turned
quite pale. Bite your lips, my dear, to get the colour back.'

' It is nothing. I am faint with the heat and the lights, I suppose.
Do not take notice of me.'

Peggy Baker assumed an air of languor and sensibility, which,
though extremely fine, was perhaps over-acted.

' Lord Chudleigh,' she said, ' is of course the person of the highest
distinction in the room. He will invite, I presume, Lady Levett to
open the ball with the first minuet. If Lady Levett declines, he will
be free to select another partner.'

In feet, Mr. Walsingham conducted Lord Chudleigh to Lady
Levett, and presented him to her. Her ladyship excused herself on
the ground that her dancing days were over, which was of course
expected. His lordship then said a few words to Mr. Walsingham,
who nodded, smiled, and conducted him to the little group composed
of Nancy, Peggy Baker, and myself. But he presented his lordship
— to me !

' Since,' he said, while the room went round with me, 'since Lady
Levett will not condescend to open the ball with your lordship, I
beg to present you to Miss Kitty Pleydell, who appears to-night,
for the first time, at our assembly ; and, I am assured, for the first
time in any assembly. My lord, the sun, when he rises in splendour,
dims the light of the moon and stars. Miss Kitt}-, I would I were

HOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALL. 149

fifty years younger, that I might challenge this happy young gentle-
man for the honour of the dance.'

Then Lord Chudleigh spoke. I remembered his voice : a deep
shame fell upon my soul, thinking where and how I had heard that
voice before.

' Miss Pleydell,' he said, bowing low, ' I humbly desire the honour
of opening the ball with you.'

It was time to rally my spirits, for the eyes of all the company
were upon us. There was only one thing to do — to forget for the
moment what was past, and address myself to the future.

I can look back upon the evening with pride, because I remember
how I was able to push away shame and remembrance, and to think,
for the moment, about my steps and my partner.

Twang, twang, twang, went the fiddles. The conductor raised his
wand. The music crashed and rang about the room.

' Courage, Kitty !' whispered Nancy. ' Courage ! Think you are
at home.'

The hall was cleared now, and the people stood round in a triple
circle, watching, while my lord, his hat beneath his arm, offered me
his hand, and led me into the middle of the room.

The last things I observed as I went with him were Mrs. Esther,
wiping away what looked like a little tear of pride, and Peggy
Baker, with red face, fanning herself violently. Poor Peggy ! Last
year it was she who would have taken the place of the most distin-
guished lady in the company !

They told me afterwards that I acquitted myself creditably. I
would not permit myself to think under what different circumstances
that hand had once before held mine. I would not break down
before the eyes of so many people, and with Peggy Baker standing
by, ready to condole with me on my discomfiture. But I could not
bring myself to look in the face of my partner : and that dance was
accomplished with eyes down-dropped.

Oh ! it was over at last ; the dance which wag to me the most
anxious, the most delightful, the most painful, that ever girl danced
in all this world ! And what do you think strengthened my heart
the while ? It was the strangest thing : but I thought of a certain
verse in a certain old history, and I repeated to myself, as one says
things when one is troubled :

' Now the king loved Esther above all the women, and she ob-
tained grace and favour in his sight : so that he set the royal crown
upon her head .'

' Child,' whispered Mrs. Esther, her face aglow with pleasure and
pride, ' we are all proud of you.'

' Kitty,' said Lady Levett, who was more critical, because she
knew more of the polite world, 'you acquitted yourself creditably.
Next time, do not be afraid to look your partner in the face. My
lord, I trust that Miss PleydelFs performance has made you con-
gratulate yourself on my declining the honour of the minuet V

150 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

'Your ladyship,' said Lord Chudleigh, ' may be assured that, if
anything could compensate for that disappointment, the grace and
beauty of my fair partner have effected that object.'

' Gadzooks !' cried Sir Robert. ' Here is a beating about the bush !
Kitty, my pretty maid, no duchess could have danced better, and
never a queen in Christendom is more beautiful ! Say I well, my
lord V

' Excellently well, Sir Eobert. You have said more than I dared j
not more than I thought.'

Then Mr. Walsingham came bustling to congratulate me.
' But one opinion — only one opinion, Miss Pleydell ! LadyLevett,
your obedient servant. Mrs. Pimpernel, I offer my congratulations
on this young lady's success. I would it had been Bath, or even
Tunbridge, whence the rumour of such beauty and such grace would
have been more quickly carried about the country. But it will be
spread abroad. There are three hundred tongues here to-night, who
will talk, and three hundred pens who will write. Miss Kitty,
once more I salute your Majesty — Queen of the Wells !'

Then Lord Chudleigh, and Sir Eobert Levett, and the gentlemen
standing round sank on one knee and bowed almost to the ground,
crying :

' Queen of the "Wells ! Queen of the "Wells !'
And Nancy, in her pretty, saucy way, ran and stood beside me,
laughing.

' And I am her Majesty's maid of honour. Remember that,
gentlemen all !'

' The saucy baggage !' cried Sir Robert.

And Peggy Baker, for whom in this hour of triumph one felt a
little pity, came too, with a curtsey and a smile which looked more
like a frown.

' Miss Pleydell must accept my homage, too,' she said. ' We are
fortunate in having one so inimitably lovely for our Queen. It
makes one wonder where so much beauty could have 'been hidden.'
I suppose she meant this as an innuendo that I was not, therefore,
accustomed to such good company. I thought of Fleet Lane and
the Market, and I laughed aloud.

But Lord Chudleigh was expected to dance with another lady
before the ball was opened ; and here was another disappointment
for poor Peggy, for he led out Nancy, who took his hand with a
pride and joy which did one's heart good to look at.

If I had been afraid to raise my eyes, Nancy was not ; she looked
in my lord's face and laughed ; she talked and prattled all the time
she was dancing ; and she danced as if the music was too slow for
her, as if she would fain have been spinning round like a school-girl
when she makes cheeses, as if her limbs were springs, as if she would
gladly have takenher partner by both hands and run round and round
with him as she had so often done with me when we were children
together, playing in the meadows beside the Hall. All the .people

nOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALL. 151

looked on and laughed and clapped their hands ; never was so merry
a minuet, if that stately dance could ever be made merry. As for
me, I was able to look at his face again, though that was only to
begin the punishment of my crime.

What did I remember of him ? A tall young man of slender
figure ; with cheeks red and puffed, a forehead on which the veins
stood out ready to burst, a hand that shook, eyes that looked wildly
round him ; a dreadful, terrible, and shameful memory. But now,
how changed ! As for his features, I hardly recognised them at all.
Yet I knew him for the same man.

Go get a cunning limner and painter. Make him draw you a face
stamped with some degrading vice, or taken at the moment of com-
mitting some grievous sin against the conscience. Suppose, for
instance, that the cheeks swell out with gluttony ; or let the lips
tremble with intemperance ; or let the eyes grow keen and hawk-
like with gambling : let any vice he pleases be stamped upon that
face. Then let him go away and draw that face (which before was
dark with sin and marked with the seal of the Devil) as it should
be, pure, wise, and noble as God, who hath somewhere laid by the
model and type of every created face, intended it to be. You will
know it and you will know it not.

The face which I had seen was not the face of a drunkard, but of
a drunken man, of a man heavy and stupid with unaccustomed
drink. I had always thought of him as of a creature of whose
violence (in his cups) I should go in daily terror, when it should
please the Doctor to take me to my husband. Now that I saw the
face again, the spirit of drunkenness gone out of it, it seemed as if
the man could never stoop to weakness or folly, so strong were the
features, so noble were the eyes. How could such a man, with such
a face and such a bearing, go about with such a secret ? But perhaps,
like me, he did not suffer himself to think about it. For his face
was as that of David when he was full of his great mission, or of
Apollo the sun-god, or of Adonis whom the Syrian women weep, or
of Troilus when he believed that Cressida was true.

To be sure, he never thought of the thing at all. He put it behind
him as an evil dream : he would take no steps until he wished to be
married, when he would instruct his lawyers, and they would break
the bonds — which were no true bonds — asunder. If he thought
at all, he would think that he was married — if that was indeed a
marriage — to some poor unworthy wretch who might be set aside at
pleasure : why should his thoughts ever dwell — so I said to myself
with jealous bitterness— on the girl who stood before him for ten
minutes, her face muffled in a hood, her eyes cast down, who placed
a trembling and wicked hand in his and swore to follow his f ortuno3
for better for worse ?

Alas, poor Kitty ! Her case seemed sad indeed.

Then my lord finished his minuet with Nancy, and other couples
advanced into the arena, and the dancing became general. Of course
there was uothiDsr but minuets until eisht o'clock.

152 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Nancy was merry. She said that her partner was delightful to
dance with, partly because he was a lord — and a title, she said, gives
au air of grace to any block — partly because he danced well and
talked amiably.

' He is a pretty fellow, my dear,' she said, ' though of position too
exalted for one so humble as myself. He had exhausted all his com-
pliments upon the Queen and had none for a simple maid of honour,
which I told him at parting, and it made him blush like a girl. How
I love to see a man blush ; it is a sign that there is yet left some
remains of grace. Perhaps Lord Chudleigh is not so hardened as
his fellows. Look at Peggy's languid airs : she thinks a minuet
should be danced as if you were going to die the very next minute ;
and she rolls her eyes about as if she were faiutiug for a man to kiss
her. My dear, Lord Chudleigh, I fear, is above us both ; yet he is
but a man, and all men are made of tinder, and a woman is the
spark. I think he may be on fire before long. Think not upon him
until you find out how his affections are disposed, and whether he is
free. A roving lord, at the watering-places, who is young and hand-
some, is as dangerous to us poor damsels, and plays as much havoc
among our hearts, as Samson when he had got that jawbone, among
the Philistines. A truly dreadful thing it would be' — it was won-
derful that she should be saying all this in ignorance, how every word
went home — ' to set your affections upon a lord, and to find out after-
wards that he was pledged to somebody else. Hateful thing she
would be !'

While the minuets were dancing we stood and watched the gay
throng. Never had 1 dreamed of anything so gay and animated.
There were three hundred people, at least as many men as women,
and all dressed in their very best. As for the ladies, it was the
fashion when I was a girl for all to be powdered, but there were
many modes of dressing the head. For some wore aigrettes of
jewels (who could afford them), some false flowers, aud some true
flowers, which were pretty and becoming for a young girl : aud
some had coiffures a la culbutte, some en dorlotte, some en papillon,
or en vergette, en equivoque, en de&espoir, or en tete de mouton. The
last was the commonest, in which there were curls all over the back
of the head. And there were French curls, which looked something
like eggs strung on a wire round the head, and Italian curls or scallop-
shells. The petticoats were ornamented with falbalas and pre-
tantailles ; most ladies wore criardes, and all had hoops, but some
wore hoops en coupole and some small hoops, and some looked like a
state-bed on castors, and as if they had robbed the valance for the
skirt and the tester for the trimmings. But there is no end to the
changes of fashion. As for the gentlemen, their vanities were mostly
in the wig, for though the full wig was now gone out of fashiou,
having given place to the neat and elegant tie-wig with a broad
black ribbon and a little bag, or a queue, yet there was not wanting
the full-bcttomed periwig, the large flowing grizzle, and the great

HOW KITTY WENT TO HE\l FIRST BALL. 153

wig with three tails. And every kind of face, the vacant, the foolish,
the sensual, the envious, the eager, the pert, the,dignitied, the brave,
the anxious, the confident— but none so noble'as that face of my
lord.

' Is our Queen meditating V

I started, for he was beside me.

' It is my first ball/ I said, ' and I am wondering at the pretty
sight of so many happy and merry people.'

' Their merriment I grant, ' he replied. ' As for their happiness,
we had better perhaps agree to take that for granted.'

' I suppose we all agree to give ourselves up to the pleasures of the
hour,' I said. ' Can we not be happy, even if we have a care which
we try to hide V

' I hope, at least,' he said, 'that Miss Pleydell has no cares.'

I shook my head, thinking how, if all hearts were opened and
all secrets known, there would be wailing instead of laughter, and
my lord and myself would start asunder with shame on my part and
loathing on his.

' Yes,' he said ; ' an assembly of people to please and to be pleased
is a charming sight. For a time we live in an atmosphere of ease
and contentment, and bask at the feet of the Queen of Hearts.'

'Oh, my lord !' I said, ' do not pay me compliments : I am only
used to plain truth.'

'Surely that is the honest truth,' he said. 'To be Queen of the
Wells is nothing, but to be the Queen of Hearts is everything.'

' Nay, then,' I returned, blushing, ' I see I must put myself under
the protection of Mr. Walsingham.'

The old beau was hovering round, and gave me his hand with a
great air of happiness.

' From me,' he said, ' Miss Pleydell knows that she will hear
nothing but truth. The language of gallantry with a beautiful
woman is pure truth.'

It was eight o'clock, and country dancea began. I danced one
with Lord Chudleigh and one with some gentleman of Essex, whose
name I forget. But I remember that next day he offered me, by
letter, his hand, and eight hundred pounds a year. At nine we had
tea and chocolate. Then more country dances, in which my Nancy
danced with such enjoyment and happiness as made Sir Jtlobert clap
his hands and laugh aloud.

At eleven all was over, mantles, hoods, and capuchins were donned,
and we walked home to our lodgings, escorted by the gentlemen.
The last face I saw as we entered the house was that of my lord
as he bowed farewell.

Cicely was waiting to receive us.

'Oh, madam !' she cried, 'I was looking through the door when
my lord took out miss for the minuet. Oh ! oh ! oh ! how beautiful !
how grand she did it ! Sure never was such a handsome pair.'
My dear,' said Mrs. Esther to me, when Cicely had left us, ' I

154 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

believe there never was known so great a success for a first appear*
ance. There is no doubt you are the reignirig Toast of the season,
child. Well, enjoy when you can, and be not spoiled by flattery,
Kitty, which is vanity. Such a face, they all declare, such a figure,
such eyes, such a carriage, were never before seen at Epsom. Beware
of Flatterers, my dear. Where did you get such graces from 1 Pay
no heed to the compliments of the men, child. Sure, it is the prettiest
creature ever formed. They would turn thy head, my dear.'

In the middle of the night I awoke from an uneasy dream. I
thought that I was dancing with my lord before all the people at
the assembly : they applauded loudly, and I heard them whisper-
ing : ' What a noble pair ! Sure Heaven hath made them for each
other !' Then suddenly Peggy Baker burst through the crowd,
leading by the hand my uncle, and crying : ' Lord Chudleigh, I
congratulate you upon your marriage ! Your bride is with you, and
here is the Chaplain of the Fleet, who made you happy.' Then the
people laughed and hissed : the Doctor lifted his great forefinger
and shook it at my lord ; I saw his face change from love to disgust,
and with a cry I hid my shameful cheeks in my hands and fled the
place.

The waking was no better than the dreaming. The husband whom
I had almost forgotten, and whom to remember gave me no more
than a passing pang, was here, with me, in the same town. What
was I to do — how treat him — in what words to tell him, if I must
tell him, the dreadful, the humiliating truth ?

Or, again— a thought which pierced my breast like a knife — sup-
pose I were condemned to see him with my own eyes, falling in
love, step by step, with another woman : suppose that I were
punished by perceiving that my humble and homely charms would
not fix, though they might attract for a single night, his wandering
eyes : oh! how could I look on in silence, and endure without a
word the worst that a woman can suffer ? Ah ! happy Esther,
whom the king loved above all women : so that he set the royal
crown upon her head !

The day broke while I was lying tortured by these dreadful sus-
picions and fears. My window looked towards the east : I rose,
opened the casement, and let in the fresh morning air. The downs
rose beyond the house with deep heavy woods of elm and birch.
There was already the movement and stir of life which begins with
the early dawn : it is as if the wings of the birds are shaking as
their pretty owners dream before they wake : as if the insects on
the leaves were all together exhorting each other to fly about and
enjoy the morning sun, because, haply, life being so uncertain to
the insect tribe, and birds so numerous, that hour might be their
last : as if the creatures of the underwood, the rabbits, hares,
weasels, ferrets, snakes, and the rest were moving in their beds,
and rustling the dry leaves on which they lie. Over the tree-tops
spread broader and broader the red glow of the morning : the

HOW KITTY WENT TO HER FIRST BALL. 155

sounds of life grew more distinct: and the great sun sprang up.
Then 1 heard a late-singing thrush break into his sweet song, which
means a morning hymn of content. The other birds had mostly
done their singing long before July : but near him there sang a
turtle with a gentle coo which seemed to say that she had got all
she wanted or could look for in life, and was happy. Truly, not
the spacious firmament on high alone, but all created things do
continually teach man to laud, praise, and glorify the name of the
great Creator. 'Whoso,' says the Psalmist, 'is wise and will ob-
serve these things ' — but alas for our foolishness! I looked, and
drank the sweetness of the air, and felt the warmth of the sun, but
I thought of nothing but my husband — mine, and yet not mine,
nor could he ever be mine save for such confession and shame as
made my heart sick to think of. To be already in love with a man
whom one had seen but twice ! was it not a shame ? Yet such a
man ! and he was already vowed to me and I to him- — although he
knew it not : and, although in a secret, shameful way, the holy
Church had made us one, so that, as the service hath it, God Him-
self had bound us together. To be in love already! Oh Kitty!
Kitty! J

There is a chapter in the Song of Solomon which is, as learned
men tell us, written ' of Christ and His Church,' the poet speaking
in such an allegory that, to all but the most spiritual-minded, he
seemeth to speak of the simple love of a man and a maid. And
surely it may be read without sin by either man or maid in love.
' I am,' she says, ' the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys. ,
My beloved spake, and said unto me, Eise up, my love, my fair
one, and come away. For lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over
and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the sing-
ing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the
land.'

When I had read that chapter and dried my weeping eyes, and
perhaps prayed awhile, I lay down upon my bed again, and slept
till Cicely came at seven and called me up to dress and walk
abroad.

CHAPTEE V-

HOW KITTY WOKE HER CROWN.

Thus happily began our stay at Epsom Wells.

Alter our morning walk we returned home, being both fatigued
with the excitement and late hours, and one, at least, desirous to sit
alone and think about the strange and perilous adventure of the
evening. Strange, indeed ; since when before did a man dance with
Ins own wife and not recognise her? Perilous, truly, for should
that man go away and give no more heed to his wife, then would
poor Kitty be lost for ever. For already was her heart engaged in

156 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

this adventure, and, like a gambler, she had staked her whole upon
a single chance. Fortunately for her, the stake was consecrated
with tears of repentance, bitterness of shame, and prayers for for-
giveness.

Mrs. Esther gently dozed away the morning over 'Pamela.' I
was occupied with needlework. Cicely ran in and out of the room,
looking as if she longed to speak, but dared not for fear of waking
madam.

After a while she beckoned me to the door, and whispered me
that outside was a higgler with ducklings and cherries, should we
please to choose them for our dinner. I followed her, and after a
bargain, in which the Surrey maiden showed herself as good as if
she had been bred in Fleet Market (though without the dreadful
language), she began upon the business which she was burning to
tell me.

' Sure, Miss Kitty,' she said, ' all the world is talking this morn-
ing about the beautiful Miss Pleydell. The book-shop is full of
nothing else, the gentlemen in the coffee-house can talk of nothing
but of Miss Pleydell, and up and down the Terrace it is nothing
but, " Oh, madam, did you see the dancing of Miss Pleydell last
night ?" " Dear madam, did you remark the dress of Miss Pley-
dell?" And "Can you tell me whence she comes, this beautiful
Miss Pleydell?" And the men are all sighing as if their hearts
would burst, poor fellows ! And they say that Lord Chudleigh
gave a supper after the ball to the gentlemen of his acquaintance,
when he toasted the beautiful Miss Pleydell. O the happiness !
He is a young nobleman with a great estate, and said to be of a
most virtuous and religious disposition. The gentlemen are mount-
ing ribbons in honour of the peerless Kitty, so I hear — and you will
not be offended at their venturing so to take your name— and, with
a little encouragement, they will all be fighting for a smile from the
fair Kitty.'

' Silly girl, to repeat such stories !'

'Nay,' she replied, ■ it is all truth, every word. They say that
never since the Wells began has there been such a beauty. The
oldest dipper, old Mrs. Humphreys, who is past eighty, declares that
Miss Pleydell is the loveliest lady that ever came to Epsom. When
you go out this afternoon you will be finely beset.'

And so on, all the morning, as her occasion brought her into the
room, whisking about, duster in hand, and always clatter, clatter,
like the mill-wheel. After dinner we received a visit from no other
than Lord Chudleigh himself.

He offered a thousand apologies for presenting himself without
asking permission, kindly adding, that however lie might rind Miss
Kitty, whether dressed or in dishabille, «he could not be otherwise
than charming. I know one person who thought Kitty in her morn-
ing frock, muslin pinner, and brown hair (which was covered with
little curls), looped up loosely, or allowed to flow freely to her waist,

HOW KITTY WORE HER CROWN. 157

frettier than Kitty dressed up in hoop, and patches, and powder.
t was the mirror which told that person so, and she never dared
to tell it to any other.

He had ventured, he said, still speaking to Mrs. Esther, to present
an offering of flowers and fruit sent to him that morning from his
country house in Kent ; and then Cicely brought upstairs the most
beautiful basket ever seen, filled with the finest flowers, peaches,
plums, apricots, and cherries. I had seen none such since I said
farewell to the old Vicarage garden, where all those things grew
better, I believe, than anywhere else in England.

' My lord,' said my aunt, quite confused at such a gift, such con-
descension! 'What can we say but that we accept the present
most gratefully.'

' Indeed, madam,' he replied, ' there is nothing to say. I am truly
pleased that my poor house is able to provide a little pleasure to
two ladies. It is the first time, I assure you, that I have experi-
enced the joy of possessing my garden.'

Then he went on to congratulate Mrs. Esther on my appearance
at the ball.

'I hear,' he said, 'that on the Terrace and in the coffee-house one
hears nothing but the praises of the fair Miss Pleydell.'

I blushed, not so much at hearing my name thus mentioned, be-
cause I was already (in a single day — tie, Kitty !) accustomed and,
bo to speak, hardened, but because he smiled as he spoke. My
lord's smile was not like some men's, bestowed upon every trifle;
but, like his speech, considered. I fear, indeed, that even then, so
early in the day, my heart was already thoroughly possessed of his
image.

'The child,' said Mrs. Esther, 'must not have her head turned
by flattery. Yet, I own, she looked and moved like one of the
three Graces. Yet we who love her must not spoil her. It was
her first ball, and she did her best, poor child, to acquit herself
with credit.'

'Credit,' said my lord, kindly, 'is a poor, cold word to use for
such a grace.'

'.We thank your lordship,' Mrs. Esther bowed with dignity.
This, surely, was a return to the Pimpernel Manner. 'We have
been living in seclusion, for reasons which need not be related, for
some time. Therefore, Kitty has never before been to any public
assembly. To be sure, I do not approve of bringing forward young
girls too early ; although, for my own part, I had already at her age
been present at several entertainments of the most sumptuous and
splendid character, not only at Bagnigge Wells and Cupid's Garden,
but also at many great city feasts and banquets for the reception of
illustrious personages, particularly in the year of grace 1718, when
my lamented father was Lord Mayor of London.'

The dear lady could never avoid introducing the fact that she
was thus honourably connected.

158 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Lord Chudleigh, however, seemed interested. I learned, later,
that some had been putting about, among other idle rumours, that
I was the daughter of a tattered country curate.

'Indeed,' he said, ' I knew not that the late Mr. Pleydell had been
the Lord Mayor. It is a most distinguished position.'

' Not Mr. Pleydell, my lord. Sir Samuel Pimpernel, Knight,
my father, was the Lord Mayor in question. His father was Lord
Mayor before him. Kitty Pleydell is not my blood relation, but
my niece and ward by adoption. Her father was a most distin-
guished Cambridge scholar and divine.'

'There are Pleydells,' said Lord Chudleigh, ' in Warwickshire.
Perhaps '

' My father,' I said, * was rector of a country parish in Kent,
where Sir Robert Levett hath a large estate. He was the younger
son of the Warwickshire family of that name, and died in the spring
of last year. My relations of that county I have never met. Now,
my lord, you have my genealogy complete.'

'It is an important thing to know,' he said, laughing; 'in a
place like Epsom, where scandal is the staple of talk,, as many free-
doms are taken with a lady's family as with her reputation. I am
glad to be provided with an answer to those who would enact the
part of town-crier or backbiter, a character here greatly aspired to.
No doubt the agreeable ladies, whose tongues in the next world
will surely be converted into two-edged swords, have already fur-
nished Miss Kitty with highwaymen, tallow-chandlers, or attorneys
for ancestors, and Wapping, Houndsditch, or the Rules of the
Fleet ' — it was lucky that Mrs. Esther had a fan—' for their place of
residence. In the same way, they have most undoubtedly proved
to each other that she has not a feature worth looking at, that her
eyes squint — pray pardon me, Miss Kitty — her hair is red, her
figure they would have the audacity to call crooked, and her voice
they would maliciously say was cracked. It is the joy of these
people to detract from merit. You can afford to be charitable, Miss
Kitty. The enumeration of impossible disgraces and the distortion
of the rarest charms afford these ladies some consolation for their
envy and disappointment.'

' I hope, my lord,' I said, ' that it will not afford me a consolation
or happiness to believe that my sex is so mean and envious thus to
treat a harmless stranger.'

He laughed.

'When Miss Kitty grows older,' he said to Mrs. Esther, 'she
will learn to place less confidence in her fellows.'

' Age,' said Mrs. Esther, sadly, ' brings the knowledge of evil.
Let none of us wish to grow older. Not that your lordship hath
yet gained the right to boast this knowledge.'

Then my lord proceeded to inform us that he purposed present-
ing some of the ladies of the Wells with an entertainment, such as
it seems is expected from gentlemen of his rank.

HOW KITTY WORE HER CROWN. 159

' But I would not,' he said, ' invite the rest of the company before
I had made sure that the Queen of the Wells would honour me
with her presence. I have engaged the music, and if the weather
holds fine we will repair to Durdans Park, where we shall find
dancing on the grass, with lamps in the trees, supper, and such
amusements as ladies love and we can provide.'

This was indeed a delightfnl prospect ; we accepted with great
joy, and so, with protestations of service, his lordship departed.

' There is,' said Mrs. Esther, ' about the manners of the great a
charming freedom. Good breeding is to maimers what Christi-
anity is to religion. It is, if one may reverently say so, a law of
perfect liberty. My dear, I think that we are singularly fortunate
in having at the Wells so admirable a young nobleman, as well as
our friends (also well-bred gentlefolks) Sir Robert and Lady Levett.
I hear that the young Lord Eardesley is also at the Wells, and was
at last night's assembly ; and no doubt there are other members of
the aristocracy by whom we shall be shortly known. You observed,
Kitty, the interest shown by his lordship when I delicately alluded
to the rank and exalted station of my late father. It is well for
people to know, wherever we are, and especially when we are in
the society of nobility, that we are not common folk. AVhat an-
cestors did his lordship say that envious tongues would give us —
tallow-chandlers? attorneys? A lying and censorious place, in-
deed !'

Later on, we put on our best and sallied forth, dressed for the
evening in our hoops, patches and powder, but not so fine as for
Monday's ball. The Terrace and New Parade were crowded with
people, and very soon we were surrounded by gentlemen anxious
to establish a reputation for wit or position by exchanging a few
words with the Reigning Beauty of the season — none other, if you
please, than Eitty Pleydell.

But to think in how short a time — only a few hours, a single
night— that girl was so changed that she accepted, almost without
wondering, all the incense of flattery that was offered up to her !
Yet she knew, being a girl of some sense, that it was unreal, and
could not mean anything ; else a woman so bepraised and flattered
would lose her head. The very extravagance of gallantry preserves
the sex from that calamity. A woman must be a fool indeed who
can really believe that her person is that of a Grace, her smile the
smile of Venus, her beauty surpassing that of Helen, and her wit
and her understanding that of Sappho. She knows better : she
knows that her wit is small and petty beside the wit of a man : her
wisdom nothing but to learn a little of what men have said : her
very beauty, of which so much is said, but a flower of a few years,
whereas the beauty of manhood lasts all a life. Therefore, when
all is said and done, the incense burned, the mock prayers said,
the hymn of flattery sung, and the Idol bedecked with flowers and
gems, she loves to step down from the altar, slip away from the

160 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

worshippers, and run to s place in the meadows, where waits a
swain who will say : ' Sweet girl, I love thee — with all thy
faults !'

On this day, therefore, began my brief reign as Queen of the
Wells. Mr. Walsingham was one of the first to salutre me. With
courtly grace he bowed low, saying :

' We greet our Queen, and trust her Majesty is in health and
spirits.'

Then all the gentlemen round formed a lane, down which we
walked, my old courtier marching backwards.

The scene, Mrs. Esther said afterwards, reminded her of a cer-
tain day long ago, when they crowned a Queen of Beauty at
Bagnigge Wells, in the presence of the Lord Mayor, her father.

To be sure, it was a very pretty sight to watch all these gallants
making legs and handling their canes with such grace as each
could command, some of them having studied in those noble schools
of manners, the salons of Paris or the reception-rooms of great
ladies in London. Yet it was certain to me that not one of them
could compare with my lord — my own lord, I mean.

Presently we came upon Lady Levett and her party, when, after
a few words of kind greeting from her ladyship, and an admonition
not to believe more of what I was told than I knew to be true, we
divided, Nancy coming with me and Mrs. Esther remaining with
Lady Levett. The music was playing and the sun shining, but a
fine air blew from the Downs, and we were beneath the shade of
the trees. We sat upon one of the benches, and the gentlemen
gathered round us.

' Gentlemen,' said Nancy, ' I am the Queen's maid of honour.
You may all of you do your best to amuse her Majesty — and me.
We give you permission to exhaust yourselves in making the court
happy.'

What were they to do ? What had they to offer ? There was
a bull-baiting in the market at which my maid of honour cried fie !
There w r as a match with quarter-staves on the Downs for the after-
noon, but that met with little favour.

' We need not leave home,' said Nancy, ' to see two stout
fellows bang each other about the head with sticks. That amuse-
ment may be witnessed any summer evening, with grinning
through a horse-collar and fighting with gloves on the village green
at home. Pray go on to the next amusement on the list. The
cock-pit you can leave out.'

One young gentleman proposed that we might play with pantines,
a ridiculous fashion of paper doll then in vogue as a toy for ladies
with nothing to do : another that we should go hear the ingenious
Mr. King lecture on Astronomy : another that we should raffie for
chocolate creams : another that we should do nothing at all, ' for,'
said he, 'why do we come to the Wells but for rest and quiet?
and if Miss Pleydell and her maid of honour do but grant us the

HOW KITTY WORE HER CROWN. 161

irivilege of beholding their charms, what need wo of anything
ut rest ?

• " To walk and dine, and walk and sup,

To fill the leisure moments up,

Idly enough but to the few

Who've really nothing else to do.

Yet here the sports exulting reign,

And laughing loves, a num'rous train ;

Here Beauty holds her splendid court,

And flatt'ring pleasures here resort." '

I, for one, should have enjoyed the witnessing of a little sport
better than the homage of lovers.

'Here is Miss Peggy Baker,' cried Nancy, jumping up. ' Oh !
I must speak to my dear friend Miss Peggy.'

Miss Baker was walking slowly down the Terrace, accompanied
by her little troop of admirers. At sight of us her face clouded
for a moment, but she quickly recovered and smiled a languid
greeting.

'Dear Miss Peggy,' cried Nancy — I knew she was going to say
something mischievous — 'you come in the nick of time.'

' Pray command me,' she replied graciously.

' It is a simple question ' — Miss Baker looked suspicious. ' Oh !
a mere trifle ' — Miss Baker looked uneasy. ' It is only — pray,
gentlemen, were any of you in the book- shop this morning ?'

All protested that they were not — a denial which confirmed my
opinion that impertinence was coming.

'Nay,' said Nancy, 'we all know the truthfulness of gallants,
which is as notorious as their constancy. Had you been there you
would not have paid Miss Pleydell those prettv compliments which
are as well deserved as they are sincere. But, Miss Peggy, a
scandalous report hath got abroad. They say that you said, this
morning, at the bookshop, that Kitty Pleydell's eyes squinted.'

' Oh ! oh !' cried Mr. Walsh) gham, holding up his hands, and all
the rest cried ' Oh! oh !' and held up theirs.

' I vow and protest,' cried Peggy Baker, blushing very much.
' I vow and protest '

'I said,' interrupted Nancy, 'that it was the cruellest slander.
You are all good-nature. Stand up, Kitty dear. Now tell us, Misa
Peggy, before all these gentlemen, do those eyes squint ?'

' Certainly not,' said poor Peggy, in great confusion.

'Look at them well,' continued Nancy. 'Brown eyes, full and
clear— eyes like an antelope. Saw anyone eyes more straight !'

' Never,' said Peggy, fanning herself violently.

' Or more beautiful eyes P'

'Never,' replied Miss Peggy.

' There,' said Nancy, ' I knew it. I said that from the lips of
Miss Peggy Baker nothing but kind words can fall. You Lear,

1 62 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

gentlemen ; women are sometimes found who can say good things
of each other : and if we find the malicious person who dared re-
port that Miss Peggy Baker said such a thing, I hope you will duck
her in the horse-pond.

Miss Peggy bowed to us with her most languishing air, aDd
passed on. Nancy held up her hands, while the gentlemen looked
at one another and laughed.

' Oh, calumny !' she cried. ' To say that Kitty's eyes were
aslcew !'

For there had been a discussion at the book-shop that morning,
in which the name of Miss Pleydell was frequently mentioned ;
and her person, bearing, and face were all particularly dwelt upon.
Miss Baker, as usual in their parliaments, spoke oftenest, and with
the most animation. She possessed, on such occasions, an insight
into the defects of women that was truly remarkable, and a power
of representing them to others which, while it was eloquent and
persuasive, perhaps erred on the side of exaggeration. She summed
r*p what she had to say in these kind words :

' After all, one could forgive fine clothes worn as if the girl bad
never had a dress on fit to be seen before, and manners like a
hoyden trying to seem a nun, and the way of dancing taught to the
cits who go to Sadler's Wells, and a sunburnt complexion, and
hands as big as my fan — all these things are rustic, and might be
cured — or endured. But I cannot forgive her squint !'

And now she had to recant publicly, and confess that there was
no squint at all.

This audacious trick of Nancy's was, you may be sure, imme-
diately spread abroad, so that for that day at least the unfortunate
creature found the people looking after and laughing wherever she
went. Naturally, she hated me, who really had done her no harm
at all, more and more.

The gentlemen, or one among them, I knew not who, offered
this evening a general tea-drinking with the music. It was served
under the trees upon the open walk, and was very gay and merry.
After the tea, when the day began to decline, we went to the rooms
where, though there was no dancing, there was talking and laugh-
ing, in one room, and in the other games of cards of every kind —
cribbage, whist, quadrille, hazard, and lansquenet. We wandered
round the tables, watching the players intent upon the chances of
the cards. I thought of poor Sir Miles Lackington, who might,
had it not been for his love of gaming, have been now, as he began,
a country gentleman with a fine estate. In this room we found
Lord Chudleigh. He was not playing, but was looking on at a
table where sat a young gentleman and an officer in the army. He
did not see us, and, under pretence of watching the play of a party
of four ladies playing quadrille, one of whom was Lady Levett, I
sat down to watch, him. Was he a gambler P

I presently discovered that he was not looking at the game, but

BOW KITTY WORE HER CROWN. 163

the players. Presently lie laid his hand upon, the shoulder of the
younger man, and said, in a quiet voice :

' Wow, Eardesley, you have had enough. This gentleman knows
the game better than you.'

'I hope, my lord,' cried the other player, springing to his feet,
' that your lordship doth not insinuate '

' I speak what I mean, sir. Lord Eardesley will, if he takes
my advice, play no more with you.'

'Your lordship,' cried the gentleman in scarlet, ' will perhaps re-
member that you are speaking to a gentleman '

' Who left Bath, a fortnight ago, under such circumstances as
makes it the more necessary forme to warn my friend. Wo, sir'
—his eye grew hard, and his face stern. 'No, sir. Do not bluster
or threaten. I will neither play with you, nor suffer my friends
to play with you ; nor, sir, will I fight with you, unless you happen
to attack me upon the road. And, sir, if I see you here to-morrow,
the master of the ceremonies will put you to the door by means of
his lackeys. Come, Eardesley.'

The gamester, thus roundly accused, began to bluster. His
honour was at stake ; he had been grossly insulted; he would have
the satisfaction of a gentleman : he would let his lordship know
that his rank should not protect him. With these noble senti-
ments, he left the room, and the Wells saw him no more.

Then, seeing me alone, for I had escaped from my court, being
weary of compliments and speeches, he came to my chair.

' I saw you, my lord,' I said, ' rescue that young gentleman from
the man who, I suppose, would have won his money. Is it prudent
to engage in such quarrels?'

' The j _ oung gentleman,' he replied, ' is, in a sense, my ward.
The man is a notorious sharper, who hath been lately expelled
from Bath, and will now, I think, find it prudent to leave the
Wells. I hope, Miss Kitty, that you do not like gaming ?'

' Indeed, my lord, I do not know if I should like what I have
never tried. 'Tis the first time I have seen card-playing.'

' Then you must have been bi'ought up in a nunnery.'

' Not quite that, but in a village, where, as I have already told
you, my father was vicar. I do not know any games of cards.'

' How did you amuse yourself in your village ?'

' I read, made puddings, worked samplers, cut out and sewed
my dresses, and learned lessons with Nancy Levett.'

'The pretty little girl who is always laughing? She should
always remain young — never grow old and grave. What else did
you do?'

' We had a choir for the Sunday psalms — many people came
every Sunday to hear us sing. That was another occupation.
Then I used to ride with the boys, or sometimes we would go fish-
ing, or nutting, or black-berrying — oh! there was plenty to cb,
and the days were never too long '

11—2

164 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

* A. better education than most ladies can show,' he replied, with
his quiet air of authority.

' And you, my lord. Do you never play cards ?'

'No,' he replied. 'Pray do not question me further on my
favourite vices, Miss Kitty. I would not confess all my sins even
to so charming and so kind a confessor as yourself.'

'I forgive you, my lord,' I said, ' beforehand. Especially if you
promise to abandon them all.'

'There are sins,' he said slowly, 'which sometimes leave behind
them consequences which can never be forgotten or undone.'

Alas ! I knew what be meant. His sin had left him burdened
with a wife — a creature who had beea so wicked as to take advan-
tage of his wickedness ; a woman whom he feared to hear of and
already loathed. Poor wife ! poor sinner ! poor Kitty !

CHAPTER VL

HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY.

The next morning at dinner, we heard the summons of the post-
boy's horn, and Cicely presently ran in with a letter in her hand.
It was addressed to me, in a large bold handwriting, and was sealed
with red wax. I opened it and found a smaller letter inside it,
marked ' Private. For my niece's eye alone.' So that both letters
were from my uncle, the Doctor.

' Your private letter,' said Mrs. Esther, ' doubtless contains some
admonition or advice designed for you alone. Put it in your pocket,
child, and read it in your own room. As for the other letter, as it
is not marked private, it would be well for j t ou to read it aloud, after
dinner, and while we are eating one of my Lord Chudleigh's deli-
cious peaches.'

To this I willingly complied, because I greatly feared the private
letter would contain some instructions concerning the secret which
the Doctor and I possessed between us. Accordingly, the dinner
over, I began the perusal of my uncle's letter.

'"My dear Niece,

' " You will first of all, and before reading any farther, con-
vey my dutiful respects to the lady by whose goodness you have
been placed in a position as much above what you could have wished,
as her benevolence is above the ordinary experience of mortals." '

' Oh, the excellent man !' cried Mrs. Esther.

' " I have to report that, under Providence, I am well in health*
and in all respects doing well ; the occupation in which I am now
engaged having received a stimulus by the threatening of a new

HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY. 165

Act for the prevention of (so-called) unlawful marriages. The in-
crease in the number of applicants for marriage hath also (as is
natural) caused an increase in the upstarts and pretenders who claim
to have received canonical orders, being most of them as ignorant
as a butcher's block, and no more ordained than the fellows who
bang a cushion in a conventicle. The clergymen of London com-
plain that the parsons of the Fleet take away their parishioners, and
deprive them of their fees : they cannot say that I, who never take
less than a guinea, undersell them. You will be glad to learn that
Sir Miles Lackington hath left this place. He hath lately received
a legacy from a cousin of a small estate, and hath made an arrange-
ment with his creditors, by virtue of which his detainers are now
removed. Nevertheless, we expect him back before long, being well
assured that the same temptation and vice of gambling, which
brought him here before, will again beset him. Yet he promiseth
brave things. We gave him a farewell evening, iu the which his
health was toasted, and more punch drunk thau was good for the
heads of some present, among whom were gentlemen members of
the Utter Bar, from the two Temples and Lincoln's Inn, with many
others, an honourable company.

' " It will also be a pleasure to you to learn that the ingenious
Mr. Stallabras is also at large. Probably he, too, will return to us
ere long. For the present his sole detaining creditor, who had sup-
plied him for years with such articles of apparel (at second-hand) as
were necessary for his decent appearance on the credit of his future
glory, agreed to take ten guineas in full discharge of a bill for forty,
which the poet could never hope to pay, nor the tradesman to re-
ceive. The calling of poet is at best but a poor one, nor should I
counsel anyone to practise the writing of verse unless he be a man
of fortune, like Mr. Alexander Pope (unfortunately a Papist), or a
Fellow of some substantial college, such as the Houses of Trinity,
Peter, and Christ, at Cambridge, like Mr. Pay. Nor is there any
greater unhappiuess than to draw a bill, to speak after the manner
of merchants, upon your future success and industry, and to be
compelled to discount it. He hath now conceived the idea of a
tragedy and of an epic poem. The first he will endeavour to pro-
duce at Drury Lane as soon as it is written : the second he will
immediately get subscribed among his friends and patrons. Unfor-
tunately he has already obtained subscriptions for a volume of
verses, and, having eaten the subscriptions, cannot now find a
publisher : in truth, I believe the verses are not yet written. This
melancholy accident obliges him to seek for new patrons. I wish
him well.

' " It is, my dear niece, with the greatest satisfaction that I learn
you have, with Mrs. Esther, gone to Epsom. The situation of the
place, the purity of the air upon the Downs, the salubrity of the
waters, the gaiety of the company, will, I hope, all be conducive to
the health of that most excellent lady, your best friend — — " '

166 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Oh, the good man !' cried Mrs. Esther.

'"To whom I charge you be dutiful, obedient, and careful in th«
smallest punctilio. The cheerfulness of the amusements (if Epsom
be the same as when I once visited it, when tutor to a young gentle-
man of quality) should communicate to her spirits something of the
joy with which I could now wish her to regard the world. As for
yourself, my child, I am under no apprehension but that music, gay
companions, and your time of life will together make you as mirth-
ful as is possible for human being. Remember, however, that
happiness is but for a season : that mirth must never pass beyond
the bound of good manners : and that when a woman is no longer
young, the reputation she has earned as a girl remains with her, even
to the grave. Wherefore, Kitty, be circumspect. The town news
is but little : the (so-styled) young Pretender is said to be moving
again, but little importance is now attached to his doings, and for
the moment the Protestant dynasty seems firm. But Heaven

knows " ' Here followed a quantity of news about the ministers,

the Houses of Parliament, the foreign news, and so forth, which I
omit.

' " I have seen a sermon, published this year by one Laurence
Sterne, on ' Conscience/ which I would commend to Mrs. Pim-
pernel. I also commend to you Dr. Samuel Johnson's ' Vanity of
Human Wishes,' and the first number of the ' Rambler,' of which I
hear great things. Mr. Henry Fielding hath produced a novel
called ' Tom Jones,' of which the town is talking. I mention it here
in order that you may be cautioned against a book whose sole merit
is the faithful delineation of scenes and characters shocking to the
female moralist. For the same reason I would have thee beware of
Mr. Smollett's ' Peregrine Pickle,' in which, as a man who knows—
alas ! — the wickedness of the world, I find a great deal to commend

' " The weather has been strangely hot even for July, and fever is
rife in this neighbourhood. I hear that the Bishop of London
threatens me with pains and penalties. I have sent word to his
lordship, that if he will not allow me to marry, I will bury, and
that at such prices as will leave his clergy nothing but the fees of
the paupers, beggars, and malefactors.

' " I think that I have no more news to send. I would that I
were able to send thee such tidings as might be looked for in a
London letter ; but I know not what actor is carrying away all
hearts, nor what lady is the reigning toast, nor what is the latest
fashion in cardinal, sack, patch, or tie-wig, nor anything at all that
is clear to the hearts of an assembly on the Terrace of Epsom.
Therefore, with my duty to Mrs. Pimpernel,
' " I remain, my dear niece,

' " Your loving uncle,

' " Giiegojiy Shovel,

' " Doctor of Divinity.

HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY 167

1 " Post Scriptum. — I enclose herewith a short letter of admoni-
tion, which thou mayest read by thyself, as such things are not
interesting to Mistress Pimpernel." '

' Now,' cried Mrs. Esther, ' was there ever such a man ? Living
in such a place, he preserves his virtue : among such dregs and off-
scourings of mankind he stands still erect, proclaiming and preaching
Christian virtue. Oh, Kitty ! why was not that man made a bishop ?
Sure, there is no other position in the world fit for him. With what
eloquence would he defend Christian faith 1 With what righteous
indignation would he not expel evil-doers V

I did not dare to ask, which of course occurred to me, what in-
dignation he would show against such as violated the law by marry-
ing in the Fleet.

' Now,' I said, ' with your permission, madam, I will retire, in
order to read my uncle's private letter of admonition.'

I opened the short note in fear ; yet there was nothing alarming
in it.

'My dear Niece,

' I add a word to say that Lord Chudleigh is going to visit
Epsom, and hath either engaged or been offered the mansion of
Durdans for the summer : perhaps he is already there. It may be
that you will make his acquaintance : in any case you cannot fail of
being interested in his doings. Since his visit to the Fleet, I hear
that he has been afflicted with a continual melancholy, of which you
and I know the cause. He has also led a very regular and almost
monastic life, reproaching himself continually for that lapse from
temperance which led to what he regards as the curse of his life.

' Child, if he pays you attentions, receive them with such coquet-
tish allurements as your sex knows how to hang out. On this point
I cannot advise. But if he is attracted by more showy and more
beautiful women' — Hooked at the glass and smiled — 'then be careful
not to exhibit any jealousy or anger. Remember that jealousy and
anger have ruined many a fcemina furens, or raging woman. Let
things go on, as if nothing of all that you and I wot of had happened.
He will be watched, and at the right time will be called upon to ac-
knowledge his wife. Such a return for the evil done me by his father
shall be mine. And with such a return of good for evil, a brilliant
position for yourself. If he should fall in love, if he hath not
already done so, with another woman, you would, in one moment,
blast his hopes, trample on all that he held dear, and make him
ridiculous, a criminal, and a deceiver. But it is at all times a more
Christian thing for a man to fall in love with his own wife.

' Remember, my dear Kitty, I place the utmost reliance on thy
good sense. Above all, no woman's jealousies, rages, and fits of
madness. These things will only do thee harm.

' Your loving uncle,

'Geegory Shovel,

' Doctor of Divinity.'

168 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

"Were one a stock or a stone ; had one no feelings ; -were one desti-
tute of pity, sympathy, and compassion, these letters might have
been useful as guides to conduct. But the thing had happened to me
■which my uncle, in his worldly wisdom, could never calculate upon :
I had fallen in love with Lord Chudleigh : I was passionately anxious
that he should fall in love with me. What room, in such a condition
of mind as was this man, for advice so cold, so interested as this 1
Return good for evil? What had I to do with that ? I wanted to
wreak no vengeance on my lord : I would have surrounded him with
love, and been willing to become his servant, his slave, anything, if
only he would forgive me, take me for his sweetheart, and make me
his wife. But to lay those snares : to look on coldly while he made
love to other women : to wait my time, so as to bring shame and re-
morse upon that noble heart — that, Kitty, was impossible. Yet I
could not write to my uncle things which he could not understand.
I could not say that I repented and was very sorry : that I loved my
lord, and was determined to inflict no harm upon him : and that, if
he chose to fall in love with another woman — who was I, indeed, that
he should love me 1 — I was firmly resolved that no act or word of
mine should injure him, even though I had to stand in the church
and see him with my own eyes married to that other — that haopy
woman — before the altar.

CHAPTER VII.

BOW KITTY BROKE HER PROMISE.

No one must think that I was sorry, or even embarrassed, when I
heard that Harry Temple had joined the company at Epsom ; and
though the name of coquette was given me by him, and that of
jilt, with such other abusive terms as the English tongue provides,
by Will Levett, later on, I beg that everyone will believe me when
I declare that I had no knowledge at all of being betrothed, or under
any kind of promise, to either of these two young men. Yet, as will
have been perceived by any who have read the second chapter of this
narrative, both of them had just grounds for believing me to be their
promised wife. In fact, I was at the time so silly and ignorant that I
did not understand what they meant ; nor had I, being so much tossed
about, and seeing so many changes, ever thought upon their words at
all, since. And whereas there was no day in which the thought of
my dear and fond Nancy did not come into my mind, there never
was a day at all in which my memory dwelt upon either Will or
Harry, save as companions of Nancy. And although grievous things
followed upon this neglect of mine, I cannot possibly charge myself
with any blame in the matter. As for Will, indeed, his conduct was
such as to relieve me of any necessity for repentance ; while Harry,

HOW KITTY BROKE HER PROMISE. l6g

even if he did play the fool for a while, speedily recovered his senses,
and found consolation in the arms of another. Lastly, men ought
not to go frantic for any woman : they should reflect that there are
good wives in plenty to be had for the asking; women virtuously
reared, who account it an honour (as they should) to receive the offer
of an honest man's faithful service ; that no woman is so good as to
have no equal among her contemporaries: while as for beauty, that
is mostly matter of opinion. I am sure I cannot understand why
they made me Queen of the Wells, when Nancy Levett was passed
over ; and I have since seen many a plain girl honoured as a beauty,
while the most lovely faces were neglected.

The first, then, of my two lovers — or promised husbands— who
arrived at Epsom was Harry Temple.

We were walking on the New Parade in the afternoon, making a
grand display ; I in my new purple velvet with purple ribbons, a
purple mantle and purple trimmings to my hat, very grand indeed.
Mr. Walsingham was talking like a lover in a novel — I mean of the
old-fashioned and romantic school of novel, now gone out. The art
of saying fine things, now too much neglected by the young, was then
studied by old and young.

' Ladies,' he was saying, 'should never be seen save in the splendour
of full dress : they should not eat in public, unless it be chocolates
and Turkish sweets : nor drink, unless it be a dish of tea : they
should not laugh, lest they derange the position of the patch or the
nice adjustment of the coiffure : they may smile, however, upon
their lovers : all their movements should be trim and evenly
balanced, according to rules of grace : in fact, just as a woman was
the last and most finished work in Nature, so a lady dressed, taught,
and cultivated, should be the last and most finished work in Art.
The power of beauty — Miss Pleydell will approve this — should be
assisted by the insinuation of polite address : rank should be en-
hanced by the assumption of a becoming dignity : dishabille should
hide at home : nor should she show herself abroad until she has
heightened and set off her charms, by silk and satin, ribbons and
lace, paint, powder, and patches.'

' I suppose, sir,' said Nancy, pointing to an absurd creature whose
follies were the diversion of the whole company, ' the dress of the
lady over there in the short sack would please you. Her body a
state-bed running upon castors, and her head-dress made up of trim-
mings taken from the tester. She is, sir, I take it, a finished work
of Art,'

Then she screamed : ' Oh, Kitty ! here is Harry Temple.' And
then she blushed, so that Mr. Walsingham looked at both of us with
a meaning smile. He came sauntering along the walk, looking about
him carelessly, for as yet he knew none of the company. His manner
was improved since last I saw him, a year and more ago : that was
doubtless due to a visit to the Continent. He was a handsome
fellow certainly, though not so tall or so handsome as Lord Chud-

170 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

leigh : his features were smaller and his air less distinguished ; but
still a pretty fellow. I thought of Nancy's secret and laughed to
myself, as yet never suspecting what he would say. The great dif-
ference at first sight between Harry Temple and Lord Chudleigh
was that the former looked as if he was ready to take the place
which the world would assign to him, while the latter would step to
the front and stand there as if in his proper place. It is a grand
thing to be a leader of men.

Suddenly he saw us, and stood still with such a look of bewilder-
ment and astonishment as I never saw.

' Nancy !' — he had his eyes upon me all the time — ' I knew you
were here, but — but '

Here Nancy burst out laughing.

' Harry does not remember you, Kitty. O the inconstancy of men !'

' Kitty V It was his turn to look confused now. ' Is it possible ]
Kitty Pleydell ? Yet, surely '

' I am sorry that Mr. Temple so easily forgets his old friends,' I
said.

'No, no. Forget? not at all.' He was so disconcerted that he
spoke in single words. * But such a change !'

' A year ago,' I said, ' I was in russet and brown holland, with a
straw hat. But this watering-place is not my native village, and I
wear brown holland frocks no longer.'

'Save in a pastoral,' said Mr. Walsingham. 'A shepherdess
should always wear brown holland, with ribbons and patches, powder
and paint ; and a crook beautifully wreathed with green ribbons.'

' Gentlemen,' I said to my followers, ' this is my old friend, Mr.
Harry Temple, of Wootton Hampstead, Kent, whom you will, I
doubt not, welcome among you. But what punishment shall be in-
flicted upon him for forgetting a lady's face V

This gave rise to a dispute on an abstract point of gallantry. One
held that under no circumstances, and during no time of absence,
however prolonged, should a gentleman forget the face of his mis-
tress ; another, that if the lady changed, say from a child to a woman,
the forgetfulness of her face must not be charged as a crime. We
argued the point with great solemnity. Nancy gave it as her opinion
that the rest of a woman's face might be f oigotten, but not the eyes,
because they never chaDge. Mr. Walsingham combated this opinion.
He said that the eyes of ladies change when they marry.

' What change V I asked.

' The eyes of a woman who is fancy free,' said he gravely, ' are
like stars : when she marries, they are planets .'

' Nay,' said Nancy ; ' a woman does not wait to be married before
her eyes undergo that change. As soon as she falls in love they
become planets. For whereas, before that time, they go twinkle,
twinkle, upon every pretty fellow who has the good taste to fall in
love with her, as mine do when I look upon Lord Eardesley ' — the
young fellow blushed — 'so, after she is in love, they burn with a

HOW KITTY BROKE HER PROMISE. 171

steady light upon the face of the man she loves, as mine do when I
turn them upon Mr. Walsingham.'

She gazed with so exaggerated an ardour into the old beau's
wrinkled and crows'-footed face, that the rest of us laughed. He,
for his part, made a profound salute, and declared that the happi-
ness of his life was now achieved, and that lie had nothing left to
live for.

In the evening, a private ball was given in the .Assembly Booms
by some of the gentlemen, Lord Chudleigh among the number, to
a circle of the most distinguished ladies at the Wells. In right of
my position as Queen, I opened the ball (of course with his lordship).
Afterwards, I danced with Harry. When the country dances began,
I danced again with Harry, who kept looking in my eyes and
squeezing my hand in a ridiculous fashion. As first I set it down
to rejoicing and fraternal affection. But he quickly undeceived me
when the dance was over, for while we stood aside to let others have
their turn, he began about the promise which we know of.

'Little did I think, sweet Kitty,' he said, with half-shut eyes,
' that when I made that promise to bring you back into Kent, you
would grow into so wonderful a beauty.'

' Well, Harry,' I replied, ' it was kindly meant of you, and I thank
you for your promise — which I now return you.'

' You return me my promise V he asked, as if surprised, whereas
je ought most certainly to have considered what had been my
»iuntry ignorance and my maidenly innocence when he gave me
his promise.

' Certainly,' I said ; ' seeing that I am now under the protection
of Mrs. Esther Pimpernel, and have no longer any need for your
services.'

' My services V as if still more surprised. I am convinced that
he was only acting astonishment, because he must have known the
truth had he reflected at all. ' Why, Kitty, I do not understand.
You are not surely going to throw me over V

Then I understood at last.

' Harry,' I said, ' there has been, I fear, some mistake.'

'No,' he replied; 'no mistake — no mistake at all. How could
there be a mistake 1 You promised that you would return with
me, never to go away again.'

' Why, so I did. But, Harry, I never thought '

' You must have known what I meant, Kitty ! Do not pretend
that you did not. Oh ! you may open your eyes as wide as you like,
but I shall believe it, nevertheless.'

' You have made a great mistake,' I said ; ' that is very certain.
Now let us have no more talk of such things, Harry.'

Lord Chudleigh came at that moment to lead me in to supper. I
thought very little of what had passed, being only a little vexed that
Harry had made so great a blunder.

The supper was pleasant too, with plenty of wax candles, cold

172 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

chickens, capons, wheat-ears, ice-creams, and champagne, which ia
certainly the most delicious wine ever made.

After supper, my lord asked me if there was any friend of mine
whom I would especially like to be invited to his party at Durdans?

I named Harry Temple, whom my lord immediately sought out,
and invited in my name. Harry bowed sulkily, but accepted.

' Is there any person,' Lord Chudleigh asked next, ' whom you
would like not to be asked V

' No,' I said ; 'I have no enemies.'

' As if the Queen of the "Wells could avoid having enemies V ho
laughed. ' But there are none who can do you harm, even by the
venom of spiteful tongues.'

He was silent for a minute or two, and then he went on, with
hesitation :

'Pardon me, Miss Pleydoll : I have no right to speak of these
things to you ; my interest is greater than my politeness, and I
venture to ask you a question.'

' Pray speak, my lord.'

' A spiteful tongue has whispered it abroad that you have to day
given your plighted lover a cold reception.'

' Who is my plighted lover V

'Mr. Harry Temple. Tell me, Miss Pleydell, if there is any
promise between you and this gentleman V

He looked at me in such a way as made me both rejoice and
tremble.

' No, my lord,' I said, blushing against my will, and to my great
confusion ; ' I am not promised to Mr. Temple. Will your lordship
take me to the dancing-room V

It was a bright moonlit night when we came away. We walked
home, escorted by some of the gentlemen. Lord Chudleigh, as he
stooped to take my hand, raised it rapidly to his lips and pressed
my fingers. The action was not seen, I think, by the others.

That night I tried to put the case plainly to myself.

I said : ' Kitty, my dear, the man you want above all other men
to fall in love with you has done it ; at least, it seems so. He seeks
you perpetually ; he talks to you ; he singles you out from the rest ;
he is jealous ; his eyes follow you about ; he sends fruit and flowers
to you ; he gives an entertainment, and calls you the Queen of the
Feast ; he presses your hand and kisses your fingers. What more,
Kitty, would you have V

On the other hand, I thought : ' If he falls in love with you,
being already married, as he believes, to another woman, he commits
a sin against his marriage vows. Yet what sin can there be in
breaking vows pronounced in such a state as he was in, and in such
a way ] Why, they seem to me no vows at all, in spite of the
validity of the Doctor's orders and the so-called blessing of the
Church. Yet he cannot part from his wife by simply wishing ; and,
knowing that, he does actually commit the sin of deceit in loving
another woman-

HOW KITTY BROKE HER PROMISE. 173

'Kitty, what would you have? For, if he doth not love you,
then are you miserable above all women ; and if he does, then are
you grieved, for his own sake, for it is a sin — and ashamed for your
own, because your confession will be a bitter thing to say. Yet
must it be made, soon or late. Oh ! with what face will yon say
to him : " My lord, I am that wife of the Fleet wedding"? Or,
" My lord, you need not woo me, for I was won before I was
wooed"? Or perhaps, worst thing of all, "My lord, the girl who
caught your fickle fancy for a moment at Epsom, whom you passed
over, after a day or two, for another, who was not pretty enough to
fix your affections, is your lawful wife "?

' Kitty, I fear that the case is hopeless indeed. For, should he
really love you, what forelook or expectancy is there but that the
love will turn to hatred when he finds that he has been deceived ?'

Then I could not but remember how a great lord, with a long
rent-roll, of illustrious descent, might think it pleasant for a day or
two to dance attendance upon a pretty girl, by way of sport, mean-
ing nothing further, but that he could not think seriously of so
humble a girl as myself in marriage. It would matter little to him
that she was descended from a loug line of gentlemen, although but
a vicar's daughter : the Pleydells were only simple country gentle-
folk. I was a simple country clergyman's daughter, whose proper
place would be in his mother's stillroom : a daughter of one of those
men whose very vocation, for the most part, awakens a smile of pity
or contempt, according as they are the sycophants of the squire
whose living they enjoy, or the drudges of their master the rector
whose work they do. It was not in reason to think that Lord
Chudleigh — Would to Heaven he had not come to Epsom Wells
at all ! Then, when the Doctor chose the day for revealing the
truth, I might have borne the hatred and scorn which now, I
thought, would kill me.

Oh, if one could fix him ! By what arts do girls draw to
themselves the love of men, and then keep that love for ever, so that
they never seek to wander elsewhere, and the world is for them like
the Garden of Eden, with but one man and one woman in it ? I
would have all his heart, and that so firmly and irrevocably given to
me, that forgiveness should follow confession, and the heart remain
still in my keeping when he knew all my wickedness and shame.

Then a sudden thought struck me.

Long ago, when I was a child, I had learned, or taught myself, a
thing which I could fain believe was not altogether superstitious.
One day my father, who would still be talking of ancient things, and
cared for little of more modern date than the Gospels, told me of a
practice among the ancients by which they thought to look into the
future. It was an evil practice, he Said, because if these oracles
were favourable, they advanced with blind confidence ; and, if
unfavourable, with a heart already prepared for certain defeat and
death. Their method was nothing in the world but the opening of

174 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

a Virgil anywhere, and accepting the first line which offered itself
as a prophecy of the event of their undertaking. I was but a little
thing when he told me this, but I pondered it in my mind, and I
reasoned in this way (nothing doubting that the ancients did really
in this manner read the future) :

' If these pagans could tell the event by consulting the words of
Virgil, a heathen like unto themselves, how much more readily
ought we to learn what is going to happen by consulting the actual
Word of God V

Thereupon, without telling anyone, I used to consult this oracle,
probably by myself, in every little childish thing which interested
me.

It was a thing presumptuous, though in my childhood I did not
know that it was a sin. Yet I did it on this very night — a grown-
up woman — trying to get a help to soothe my mind.

The moonlight was so bright that I could read at the open window
without a candle. I had long since extinguished mine.

I opened the Bible at random, kept my finger on a verse, and took
the book to the casement.

There I read :

' Wait on the Lord : be of good courage : and He shall strengthen
thy heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord.'

Now these words I thankfully accepted as a solemn message from
Heaven, an answer to my prayer.

So I laid me down, and presently fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW KTTTT HAD LETTERS AND VF.KSE8.

Everybody knovrs that a watering-place in summer is a nest of
singing birds. I do not mean the birds of the air, nor the ladies
who sing at the concerts, nor the virtuosos, male and female, who
gather together to talk of appogiatura, sonata, and — and the rest
of the musical jargon. I mean rather those epigrammatists, libel-
lous imitators of Pasquin, and love-verse writers who abound at
such places. Mostly they are anonymous, so that one cannot thank
them as one would. The verses, this year at Epsom, came down
upon us in showers. They were stuck up on the pillars of the
porch of the Assembly Rooms, they were laid upon the table of
the book-shop, they were handed about on the Terrace. Also they
came to me at my lodgings, and to Nancy at hers, and very likely
to Peggy Baker at hers. Here, for instance, is one set which were
shown round at the Assembly :

'Epsom could boast no reigning Toast :
The Terrace wept for pity.
Kind Fortune said, " Come, lift your head :
I send yon stately Kitty."

KITTY HAS LETTERS AND VERSES. E75

' She came, she reigned, but still disdained
The crowd's applause and fancy ;
Quoth Fortune, "Then, content ye, men,
With pretty, witty Nancy." '

Every morning lovers were at our feet (on paper). They wrote
letters enjoining me ' by those soft killing eyes ' (which rhymed
with ' sighs ') to take pity on their misery, or to let them die. Yon
would have thought, to read their vows, that all the men in the
town were in profound wretchedness. They could not sleep : the}'
could no longer go abroad : they were wasting and pining away :
they were the victims of a passion which was rapidly devouring
them : Death, they said, would be welcomed as a Deliverer. Yet
it will hardly be believed that, in spite of so dreadful an epidemic
of low fever, no outward signs of it were visible in the town at all :
the gentlemen were certainly fat and in good case : their hearts
seemed merry within them: they laughed, made jokes, sang, and
were jolly to outward show : their appetites were good : they were
making (apparently) no preparations for demise. Their letters and
verses wer«, however, anonymous, so that it was impossible to
point with accuracy to any sufferer who thus dissembled. From
information conveyed to me by Cicely Crump, I believe that the
verses and letters came in great measure from the apprentices and
shopmen employed by the mercers, haberdashers, hosiers, and
drapers of the town — young men whose employment brings them
constantly into the presence of ladies, but whose humble positions
in the world forbid them to do anything more than worship at a
great distance : yet their hearts are as inflammable as their betters,
and their aspirations are sometimes above their rank, as witness
the gallant elopement of Joshua Crump, Cicely's father, with Miss
Jenny Medlicott, daughter of an alderman: then they find relief
and assume a temporary dignity — as they fondly think — in writing
anonymous love-letters. I think the letters must have come from
these foolish and conceited young men, because I cannot under-
stand how a gentleman who values his self-respect could so far
humiliate himself as to write letters which lie would be ashamed to
sign, declaring himself the foolish victim of a foolish passion, and
addressing a fellow-creature, a being like himself, with all the im-
perfections of humanity upon her, as an angel (which is blasphe-
mous), and a sun of glory (which is nonsense), or a bright particular
star (which is copied from the preface to the ihble). I confess
that we liked the open compliments and public attentions of the
gentlemen : they pleased us, and we took them in sober honesty
for what they were worth— the base coin of gallantry rings as
pleasantly sometimes as the guinea gold of love — butit is one thing
to be called a goddess in the accepted language of exaggeration
and mock humility commonly used in polite assemblies, and an-
other to be addressed in a grovelling i:!nnn, seriouslv and humbly,

176 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

as if one were the Lama of Thibet, or the great Bashaw, or the
Pope himself. It is pleasant to see a young fellow dancing along
the walk with his hat under his arm, making reverence, with his
eyes full of admiration, his face lit with smiles, and compliments
upon his tongue, because one knows that it is the natural homage
paid by an honest fellow to a pretty girl, and that when years have
robbed the beauty, the homage will be paid to some one else. But
for these silly boys' letters

And then we made the sad discovery, by comparing our letters,
that they were not even original. Many of them were, word for
word, the same, showing that they had been copied from the same
model. If it be true that passion makes the most tongue-tied
lover eloquent, then this discovery proved that the violence of the
passion was as feigned as the letters were false, unless Nancy's
supposition was true.

'Fie!' cried she, 'the wretch has written the same letters to
both of us. Can he be in love with two maids at the same time ?'

Then she took both letters and showed them about among the
company.

There was another kind of letter which I received : it was filled
with slander and abuse, and was written in disguised handwriting.
Several of them came to me, and I was foolish enough to be vexed
over them, even to shed tears of vexation. My anonymous cor-
respondent gave me, in fact, such information and advice as the
following, which was not conveyed to me all at once, but in several
letters.

' Your Lord Chudleigh is very well known to be a gambler who
hath already dipped more than half his estate ; do you think it
possible that he should marry the daughter of that poor thing — a
country parson — with no more fortune to her back than what a
city madam may chance to give her? Be not deceived. Your
triumph is to walk the Terrace with him at your elbow : your dis-
grace will be when he leaves you to lament alone. . . '

' Do not think that any other gentleman will stoop to pick up
the cast-off fancy of Lord Chudleigh. When he leaves you, ex-
pect nothing but general desertion and contempt. This advice
comes from a well-wisher.'

' Lord Chudleigh is, as is very well known, the falsest and the
most fickle of men. When he hath added you to the list of women
whom he hath deceived, he will go away to Bath or town, there to
boast of what he hath done. He belongs to the Seven Devils' Club,
whose boast it is to spare no man in play and no woman in love.
Be warned in time.'

'Poor Kitty Pleydell! Your reputation is now, indeed, cracked,
if not broken altogether. Better retire to the obscurity of your
town lodging, where, with Mrs. Pimpernel, you may weep over the
chances that you think to have lost, but have never really pos-
sessed- Better take up, while is yet time, with Harry Temple.

kitty has letters and verses. 177

All the Wells is talking of your infatuation about Lord Chudleigh.
He, for his part is amused. With his friends he laughs and makes
sport.'

And so on, and so on : words which, like the buzzing of a fly or
the sting of a gnat, annoy for a while and are then forgotten. For
the moment one is angry : then one remembers things and words
which show how false are these charges : one reflects that the
writer is more to be pitied tban the receiver : and one forgives.
Perhaps I was the readier to forgive because I saw a letter written
by no other (from the similarity of the t's and /j's) than Miss Peggy
Baker, and was fully persuaded that the writer of these unsigned
letters was that angry nymph herself.

As for the verses which were left at the door, and brought by
boys who delivered them and ran away — Nancy said they had no
clothes on except a quiver and a pair of wings, and so ran away
for shame lest Cicely should see them — they bore a marvellous
resemblance to those which the ingenious Mr. Stallabras was >* ont
to manufacture ; they spoke of nymphs and doves and bosky
groves ; of kids and swains on verdant plains ; of shepherds' reeds
and flowery meads, of rustic flutes and rural fruits.

'The fashion of verses,' said Mrs. Esther, ' seems little changed
since we were here in 1720. Doubtless the English language has
never been able to achieve a greater excellence than that arrived
at by Drydcn, Pope, Addison, and Steele. 1

Perhaps the language of love is always the same, and when a
man feels that tender emotion he naturally desires to quit the garish
town and the artificial restraints of society, and with his inamorata
to seek the simple delights of the meadows and the fields, there to
be together :

'Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove '

So that to every lover the old language, with its mu9ty tropes and
rusty figures, is new and fresh, just as any other delight in life
when first tasted. I say nothing for that poor weakling, that hot-
house plant, the passion affected by beaux at a watering-place for
fashionable beauties, which may use the strong language of real
love and yet is so fragile as to be in danger of perishing with every
cold blast and frosty air.

I would not lau^h at these simple poets, because I have learned
since then that there are youths who, too bashful to speak, may
yet conceive such a pure and noble passion for a woman — who
certainly does not deserve it — as may serve for them as a stimulus
and goad to great actions. For no creature, whether man or
woman, can do lit suit and service to another, whether in thought
or action, without endeavouring to make himself fit and worthy to
be her servant. And if lie be but one of a hundred following in a
crowd of worshippers, it is good for him to mark .-nd obey the laws

12

178 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

of gallantry arid knightly service, and to lay aside for a while the
talk of barrack, stable, coffee-house, and gaming-room.

' Pretty moralist,' said Nancy, 'you would like the young fellows
at your heel, doing suit and service ; and you would like to feel
that their attendance is doing good to their innocent souls. Now,
for my part, I think only how they may be doing good to myself,
and when I see them figuring and capering, hat under arm, one
foot valiantly stuck out — so — the ties of their wigs wagging behind
them, and their canes bobbing at their wrists. I feel, my dear, as
if I was not born in vain. All this posturing, all this capering, like
a French dancing-master or a bear with a hurdy-gurdy, is meant
for me — that is, except what is meant for you, which is the larger
half. It may do good to the men : I am sure I wish from my heart
it does, because the poor profligates want so much good done to
them ; but" I rather love to think of the honour it confers upon us
women, and the envy, hatred, and malice it awakens in tne breast
of our sisters. My dear Peggy Baker is turning positively green
with this hateful passion of jealousy. To be a Toast, even a second
Toast, like me, when your superior charms — I am not a bit jealous,
Kitty, my dear — have had their due acknowledgment, is a very
great honour. In years to come, say about the beginning of the
nineteenth century, if I live so long, I shall say to my grandchil-
dren, who will then be about eighteen or nineteen, and as beautiful
as the day, "My dears," I shall say, "your grandmother, though
you will find it difficult to believe, was not always toothless, nor
did her hands always shake, nor were her cheeks wrinkled, nor
were her chin and nose close together. Look in the glass, girls,
and you may guess what your poor old grandmother once was, in
the days when she was pretty Nancy Lcvett, a Toast when the
beautiful Kitty Pleydell was Queen of the Wells. Kitty Pleydell,

who married ," no, my dear, I will not say it, because it might

bring you back luck.'

I told Nancy about Harry Temple's strange mistake ; she grew
very serious over it, and reflected what was best to be done. I
warned her to say nothing herself, but to leave him to his own
reflections. First he sulked, that is to say, he avoided me in
public, and did not even pay his respects to Mrs. Pimpernel in
private ; then he implored me to give him another hearing. I gave
him what he asked, I heard him tell his story over again, then I
assured him once more that it was impossible. He behaved very
strangely, refused to take my answ r er as final, and vexed us by
betraying in public the discontent and anger which, had he pos-
sessed any real regard for me, he ought to have kept a secret in
his own breast. Some of the backbiters, as Lord Chudleigli told
me, put it about that I had thrown over my former lover. Allu-
sion to this calumny was made, as has already been shown, in the
anonymous letters.

Lord Cuudleigb pnid m? r>o eonroliments and wrote me no verses,

KITTY HAS LETTERS AND VERSES. iyg

nor did he often join in our train upon the Terrace. But he dis-
tinguished us by frequently paying a visit to our lodgings in the
morning, when he would sit and read, or talk, and sometimes share
our simple dinner.

' We who belong to the great City houses,' said Mrs. Esther
after one of these visits, ' are accustomed from infancy to fami-
liarity with Nobility. My father, when Worshipful Master of the
Scourers' Company, or in his year of office as Lord Mayor, would
sometimes have a peer on one side and a bishop on the other.
Baronets and simple knights we hardly valued. Therefore these
visits of his lordship, which are no doubt a great distinction for
both of us, seem like a return of my childhood.'

We learned from Lord Chudleigh that it was his intention (after-
wards fully carried out) to take that active part in the administra-
tion of state affairs to which his exalted rank naturally called him.

' I am ever of opinion,' he said, ' that a gentleman in this
country owes it to his birth and position to do his utmost for the
preservation of our liberties and the maintenance of sound govern-
ment.'

And he once told us, to our astonishment, that had he lived in
the days of Charles the First, he should have joined the party of
the Parliament.

It seemed to me, who watched him narrowly and with tremb-
ling, that he was desirous, in these visits, to find out what manner
of person I was, and whether I possessed any virtues, to illustrate
that external comeliness which had already taken his fancy. Alas !
I thought continually with shame of the time when I should have
to throw myself at his feet and implore his mercy and forgive-
ness.

Then he encouraged me to talk about my childhood and my
father, tailing pleasure, I thought, in the contemplation of a life
given up to heaven and learning, and smiling at the picture of Lady
Levett, who ruled us all, the two boys who came home to tease the
girls, and little Nancy, so fond and so pretty. I wondered then
that he should care to hear about the way I lived, the books I read,
the death of my honoured father, and the little things which make
up a country maid's life, wherein the ripples and the gentle breezes
are as important to her as great storms and gales to men and
women of the world. I know, now, that when a man loves a girl
there is nothing concerned with her that he does not want to know,
so that her image may be present to him from the beginning, and
that he may feel that there has been no year of her life, no action
of hers at all, that he does not know, with what she thought, what
she did, who were her friends, and what she was like.

Thus he told me about his own country house, which was a very
fine place indeed, and his gardens, stables, library, pictures, and ail
the splendid things which he had inherited.

Two things we hid from each other, the one that I was tho

12-2

180 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

girl whom he had married : the other, that he was already
married.

' Child,' said Nancy, ' the young lord hath plainly bewitched
thee. Remember, my dear, that a woman must not be won too
easily. Can we not break his heart a little r'

Lady Levett took occasion to speak to me to the same effect.

' Kitty,' she said, ' I have eyes in my head and can see. Do
not encourage the man too much. Yet it would be a grand match,
and I should be well content to see a coronet on that pretty head.
Still, be not too ready. But he is a handsome fellow, axid I believe
as good as we can expect of any man ia this profligate age. Nay,
child, do not change colour : I know nothing against his character,
except that he has a town house and that he has lived much in
London. But make him feel a little the pangs of love. Listen, or
pretend to listen, to the addresses of another man. When my
husband came courting me, do you think I said yes all at once?
JNfot so. There were other suitors in the field, let me tell thee,
Kitty, as young and as rich as Sir Robert, and of as good a family.
To be su'e, there was none so good in my eyes. As for one, he
rode to hounds all day, and in the evening slept in his chair. He
broke his neck jumping a brook when he was but thirty. Another,
he drank October all day long, and at night was carried to bed like
a log. When he was forty he was taken with a seizure, being still
a bachelor, all for love of me and his brown jug, which I think he
loved still more. And a third, he was choleric, and used to beat
his grooms. Now, my dear, a man who beats his grooms is just
as likely to beat his wife. Wherefore, beware of strikers. And a
fourth, he was a gambler, and all night over his cards, so that I
would, have none of him. He lost his estate and went into the
Austrian service. There he was run through the body and killed
in a duel by a French chevalier, who had first robbed him at faro.
But do not think I let my true love know my resolution. I plagued
him first, and teased him until he was humble. Then I bade hiui
be happy, and the good man hath bi'en happy ever since.'

Alas ! I could not tease my lord or plague him : I could not
coquet with other men, even though Peggy went about saying :

' The silly wretch is in love with him : she shows it in her eyes.
O the impudence V

CHAPTER IX.

BOW LOKD CHUDLEIGH WENT TO LONDOff.

Without telling anyone of his intention, Lord Chudleigh posted
one morning to town. I was acquainted with this news by Miss
Peggy Baker, who informed me of it in her kindest niauutr.

HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WENT TO LONDON. 181

' Dear Miss Pleydell,' she said, after morning service, as we were
coming out of church, 'have you heard the dreadful news ?'

' I have heard no news,' I replied.

' We have lost the chief ornament of the company. Yes ; you may
well turn pale' — I am sure I did nothing of the kind — ' Lord Chud-
leigh has left Epsom — some say for the season : some say on account
of some distaste he has conceived for the place : some say on account
of previous engagements.'

' What kind of engagements?'

' I thought you would ask that. It is rumoured that he is shortly
to be married to a young lady of good birth and with a fortune equal
to his own. It is certain that he will not return.'

' Eeally !' said Nancy, who had now come to my aid, 'how shall
you be able to exist, dear Miss Peggy, without him ?'

' I % Oh, indeed, I am not concerned with Lord Chuclleigh.'

' I mean, how can you exist when the principal subject for scan-
dalous talk, and the chief cause of anonymous letters, is removed V

She blushed and bit her lips.

'I think, Miss Levett,' she gasped, 'that you allow your tongue
greater liberties than are consistent with good-breeding.'

' Better the tongue than the pen, dear Miss Baker,' replied Nancy
' Come, Kitty, we will go weep the absence of this truant lord.'

' The Temple still remains— he ! he !' said Miss Baker.

This was a conversation at which I could laugh, spiteful though it
was. I knew not that my lord was gone away, nor why. But one
thing I knew very well. He was not gone to marry anyone. If
that can be called ease which was mostly shame, I felt easy, because
ordinary jealousy was not possible with me. He could not marry,
if he wished. Poor lad ! his fate was sealed with mine.

Yet, thinking over what might happen, I resolved that night upon
a thing which would perhaps incense my uncle, the Doctor, be-
yond all measure. I resolved that should that thing happen which
most I dreaded, that my lord should fall in love with another
woman, I would myself, without his ever knowing who had done it,
release him from his ties. I knew where the Doctor kept his
registers : I would subtract the leaf which certified our union, and
would send it to my lord ; or should the Doctor, as was possible,
propose any legal action, I would refuse to appear or to act. Now
without me the Doctor was powerless.

Lord Clan Heigh went to town, in fact, to see the Doctor. He
drove to his town house in St. James's Square, and in the morning
he sallied forth and walked to the Fleet Market.

The Pieverend Doctor Shovel was doing a great and splendid
business. Already there were rumours of the intention of Govern-
ment to bring in a bill for the suppression of these lawless Fleet
marriages. Therefore, in order to stimulate the lagging, he had sent
his messengers, touturs, and runners abroad in every part of the city,
calling on all those who wished to be married secretly, or to avoid

1 82 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

wedding expenses, feasts, and junketings, and to be securely married,
to make haste, while there was yet time. Therefore there was a
throng every clay from seven in the morning, of prentices with their
masters' daughters, old men with their cooks, tradesmen who would
avoid the feasting, sailors home for a few weeks, as eager to marry a
wife as if they were to be home for the whole of their natural lives,
officers who wanted to secure an heiress, and many honest folk who
saw in a Fleet- wedding the easiest way of avoiding the expenses of
their friends' congratulations, with the foolish charges of music, bells,
dancing, and rejoicing which often cripple a young married couple
for years. Why, the parents connived with the girls, and when
these ran away early in the morning, and came home falling upon
their knees to confess the truth, the play had been arranged and
rehearsed beforehand, and the forgiveness took the form of money
for furniture instead of for feasting. But still the parents went
about holding up their hands and calling heaven to witness that they
could not have believed their daughter so sly and deceitful a puss.

Hither came Lord Chudleigh, heavy of heart.

The Doctor at eleven in the morning was in the full swing of his
work. Two couples of the lower class were being married in the
house. Outside, the place was beset with wedding parties, couples
coming shyly and timidly, and couples coming openly and without
shame. The touters and runners of the rival Fleet parsons were
fighting, swearing, cajoling and inviting people to stop with them,
holding out offers of cheapness, safe marriage, expedition, secrecy,
and rum punch. Strangers to London, who had never heard of
Doctor Shovel's greatness, were led away to those pretenders whose
canonical orders were so doubtful. I believe the world at large
entertains contempt for all Fleet parsons as a body (happily no
longer existent), but, for my own part, while I hold the memory of
the Doctor in mingled shame and respect, I despise the rest because
he himself held them in such low esteem.

Eoger, the touter, recognised his lordship, as he made his way
slowly through the mob along the side of the market.

'Good-morning, my lord/ he said — his face was bloody and
bruised, his tie-wig was awry, his coat was torn, so fierce had been
the struggle of the morning — ' good-morning, my lord. We have not
seen your lordship this long while. Would your lordship like speech
with the Doctor % He is busy now, and six couples wait him. Warm
work it is now ! But I think he will see your lordship. We should
be glad to drink your lordship's health.'

The fellow made his way through the crowd, and presently re-
turned, saying that the Doctor was very near the benediction, after
which he would give his lordship ten minutes, but no longer, and
should lose a guinea for every minute.

The Doctor, in fact, was dismissing a pair of couples with a few
words of advice. They were respectable young city people, getting
the secret marriage for the reasons which I have already described,

HOW LORD CHUD LEIGH WENT TO LONDON. 183

' You are now,' he said, ' married according to the rites of holy
Mother Church. You are tied to each other for life. I hope you
will thank and continually bless my name for tying the knot this
morning. Bemeruber what the Church charges her children in tlra
words of the service. Go : be honest in your dealings, thrifty in
your habits, cautious in your trusts, careful of small gains ; so shall
you prosper. Let the husband avoid the tavern in the morning, and
the conventicle on the Sunday ; let the wife study plain, roast, and
boiled, make her own dresses, pretend not to be a fine madam, and
have no words with gallants from the west of Temple Bar.

' If, on the other hand,' he went on, knitting his brows, ' the hus-
band spends his money in clubs, among the freemasons, and in
taverns ; if he do not stick to business, if he cheat in his transac-
tions ; or if the wife go finely dressed, and talk with pretty fellows
when she ought to be cleaning the furniture ; if they both go not to
church regularly and obey the instruction of their rector, vicar, or
curate — then, I say, the fate of that couple shall be a signal example.
For the husband shall be hanged at Tyburn Tree, and the wife be
flogged at Bridewell. Go.'

They bowed, being overwhelmed with the terrors of this parting
advice, and departed. Outside, they were greeted with a roar of
rough congratulation, and were followed by the shouts of the market
till they reached Fleet Bridge, where they were quickly lost in the
crowd.

Then the Doctor turned to Lord Chudleigb.

' Your lordship has come, I suppose/ he asked, ' to inquire after
the health of her ladyship V

' I come, Doctor Shovel,' replied my lord, gravely, ' to know from
your own lips, before I commit the affair to counsel, how far I am
compromised by the disgraceful trick you played upon me about a
year ago.'

' Your lordship is married,' said the Doctor, simply. ' So far are
you compromised, and no further. Nay, we seek no further com-
plication in this business.'

He sat down in his wooden arm-chair, and, with his elbow on
the table, knitted his bushy eyebrows, frowned, and shook his great
forefinger in his visitor's face.

' Your lordship is married,' he repeated. ' Of that have no doubt ;
no doubt whatever is possible. Tell your lawyer all ; refer him to
me.'

' The story,' said Lord Chudleigh, ' is this. I come here, out of
curiosity, to see you — a man of whom I had heard much, though
little to your credit. I am received by you with courtesy and
hospitality. There is much drinking, and I (for which I have no
defence to offer) drink too much. I awake in the morning still
half unconscious. I am taken downstairs by you, and married,
while in that condition, to some woman I had never before seen.
After this I am again put to bed. "When I awake, I am informed
by you what has taken place.'

1 84 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

' That is a story neatly told,' said the Doctor, ' If I had to tell
it, however, the details would assume another complexion. What
brought your lordship to spend the night in such a place as the
Liberties of the Fleet 1 A common parson of the Fleet ? Nay,
that is improbable ; my modesty forbids me to believe so incredible
a circumstance. But we may suppose an appointment for the morn-
ing ; an appointment made and kept ; a secret marriage '

' Would you dare to tell such a story as that V Lord Chudleigh
interrupted the Doctor with vehemence. ' Would you dare, sir, to
hint that I, Lord Chudleigh, had designed a Fleet marriage V

' My lord, where a member of your family, where your father's
son is concerned , I dare a great deal, I assure you.'

' And the woman — who is she ? Produce me this wretch, this
creature who became an accomplice in the plot.'

' All in good time. Be assured, my lord, that we shall produce
her in good, time — at the right time. Also, be resigned to the in-
evitable. Nothing can unmarry you now.'

' I think,' said his lordship, ' that thou art the greatest villain in
England.'

' Ta, ta, ta !' The Doctor lay back in his chair with his arms ex-
tended and a genial laugh. ' Your lordship is not complimentary.
Still, I make allowances. I cannot fight you, because I am a clergy-
man ; you can therefore say what you please. And I own that it
certainly is a vexatious thing for a gentleman of your rank and
position to have a wife and yet to have no wife : not to know her
name and parentage. Why, she may be in the soap-suds over the
family linen in the Fleet Liberties, or selling hot furmety on Fleet
Bridge, or keeping a farthing sausage-stall in the Fleet "M arket, or
making the rooms for the gentlemen in the Fleet Prison, or frying
beefsteaks in Butcher Eow ; or she may be picking pockets in St.
Paul's Churchyard, or she may be beating hemp in Bridewell, or
she may be under the Alderman's rod in Newgate. Nay, my lord,
do not swear in this place, which is, as one may say, a chapel-of-
ease. Then her parents : your lordship's father and mother-in-law.
lloger, my touter — say — may be her parent ; or she may come of a
dishonest stock in Turnmill Lane ; or she maybe ignorant of father
and mother, and may belong to the numerous family of those who
sleep in the baskets of Covent Garden and the ashes of the cclass-
houses. I repeat, my lord, that to swear in such a place, and before
such a man, a reverend divine, is impious. Avoid the habit of
swearing altogether ; but, if you must swear, let it be outside this
house.'

'You will not, then, even tell me where she is, this wife of mine V

' I will not, my lord.'

' You will not even let me know the depth of my degradation V

' My lord, I will tell you nothing. As for her ladyship, I will say
not a word. But as I have shown you the possibilities on one side,
eo 1 would show them to yon on the other. She may be the wretched

HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH WENT TO LONDON. 185

creature you fear. She may also be a gentlewoman by birth, young,
beautiful, accomplished ; fit, my lord, to bear your name and to be
your wife.'

' No,' he cried ; ' that is impossible. What gentlewoman would
consent to such a marriage V

The Doctor laughed.

' There are many things in this world/ he said, ' that even Lord
Chudleigli cannot understand. Now, my lord, if you have nothing
more to say. you may leave me. There are already half a dozen ex-
pectant brides upon the threshold. One would not, sure, keep the
poor things waiting. I am generally at home, my lord, in the
evening, and should you feel inclined for another social night with
punch, and a song over the bowl, your lordship will be welcome, in
spite of hard words.'

Lord Chudleigh answered not a word, but walked away.

Small comfort had he got from the Doctor.

Now was he it, a sad plight indeed ; for his heart was altogether
filled with the image of Kitty Pleydell. Yet how hope to win her?
And how stand by and let her be won by another man 1

To be married in such a way, not to know who or what your wife
might be, is, surely, a thing quite beyond any history ever told.

CHAPTER X.

HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM.

The Doctor's letter had informed us of the liberation of Mr. Stal-
labras and Sir Miles Lackington ; but we were not prepared for
their arrival at Epsom. They came, however, travelling together by
the coach, their object being not so much, I believe, to visit the
watering-place of Epsom or to enjoy its amusements, as to renew
certain honourable proposals, formerly made in less happy times, to
Kitty Pleydell.

Naturally, we were at first somewhat perturbed, fearing the scandal
should certain tongues spread abroad the truth as to our residence
in the Fleet.

'.My dear,' said Mrs. Esther, with a little sigh, 'my mind 13
made up. We will go to Tunbridge out of their way.'

This was impossible, because they would follow us. For my own
part, I looked upon the Fleet Rules with less shame than poor Mrs.
Esther. To her, the memory of the long degradation was infinitely
painful. For everybody, certainly, a time of degradation, however
unmerited, is never a pleasant thing to remember. I think that the
whole army of martyrs must agree together in forgetting the last
scenes of their earthly pilgrimage. The bufl'etings, strappings, scourg-
iijgs, roastings, burnings, aud hangings, the long time of prison, the

1 85 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

starvation, the expectancy and fear — the going forth to meet the
hungry lion and the ruthless tiger — surely it cannot be comfortable
to remember these ? No martyr on the roll had ever been more in-
nocent or undeserving of punishment than Mrs. Esther Pimpernel :
no sufferer ever complained less : but she loved not to think of the
past, nor to be reminded of it by the arrival of one whom she had
known there.

Nevertheless, when Sir Miles Lackington presented himself at
bur lodging, he was received with a gracious friendliness.

His newly recovered liberty made little alteration in the appear-
ance of this prodigal son. His dress was worn in the same easy
disorder, the ruffles being limp, his wig tied carelessly, the lace upon
his hat torn, as if in some scuffle, and the buckles of his shoes were
an odd pair. His face preserved the same jolly content, as if the
gifts of Fortune were to be regarded no more than her buffeting.

' We are always,' said my guardian, with a little hesitation, ' we are
always glad to welcome old friends — even friends in common mis-
fortune. But, Sir Miles, it is not well to remind us — or — or to talk
to others of those unhappy days.'

He laughed.

' I remember them not,' he said. ' I never remember any day but
the present. Why should we remember disagreeable things % For-
merly we borrowed ; now we lend : let us go on lending till we have
to borrow again. Do you remember Mr. Stallabras the poet V

Surely, we remembered Solomon.

' He goes abroad now in a silk-lined coat with lace ruffles. He has
bought a new wig and started a subscription list for a new poem,
having eaten up the last before the poem was written. I subscribed
for three copies yesterday, and we pretended, both of us, he that he
did not want the money, and I that I had always had it. Without
forgetting and pretending, where should we be V

' Indeed/ said Mrs. Esther, ' one would not willingly either forget
or pretend. But some things are best remembered in silence. The
memory of them should keep us humble, Sir Miles.'

'I do not wish to be humble,' replied the baronet. 'Humble
people do not sing and drink, nor gamble, nor make love. They go
in sadness and with hanging heads. I would still go proud.'

While he was with us came Solomon himself, bravely dressed in-
deed, with about an ell of ribbon tied around his throat, a new and
fashionable wig, and bearing himself with all the dignity possible in
a poet of five-feet-three. His chin was in the air and his hat under
his arm when he marched into the little room.

I shook hands with him, and whispered to him not to mention the
word Fleet. Thereupon he advanced to Mrs. Esther with such a bow
as would have graced a court, saying :

'Madam, I have had the honour of being presented to you in
London, but I know not if I am still distinguished by your recol-
lection,'

HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM. 187

' Sir,' said Mrs. Esther. ' that person must indeed be blind to merit
who can forget Mr. Stallabras, the favourite of the Muses.'

' Oh, madam ! this compliment '

' Oh, sir ! our hearts are not so insensible as to forget those de-
lightful verses, which should be the glory of an unthinking age.'

I asked him then if he had received a bequest.

' I have found what is better,' he said, ' a female Maecenas. The
virtues of antiquity linger only in the breasts of the fair. She is a
person of singularly cold and calm judgment. Despreaux himself
had not a cooler head or a sounder critical faculty. Therefore, when
such a lady prophesies immortal renown to a poet, that poet may
congratulate himself. I am poet laureate to Lady Tamarind, relict
of Sir Joseph Tamarind, brewer and sometime sheriff in the City
of London. Her ladyship's taste is considered infallible in all sub-
jects, whether china, tulips, plays, pictures, fans, snuff-boxes, black
boys, or poets.'

His eyes twinkled so brightly, his turn-up nose seemed so joyfully
to sniff the incense of praise, prosperity had already made his
cheeks so sleek and fat, that we could hardly recognise our starve-
ling poet.

' The taste,' said Sirs. Esther, ' of a woman who recognises the
merit of your verses, Mr. Stallabras, is beyond a doubt.'

He rubbed his hands and laughed.

' I was already out — ' he began, but as we all manifested th'
greatest confusion at the beginning of this confession, he stopped
and turned red. ' I mean I was — I was '

' You were beginning, I think,' I interrupted, ' to open a new sub<
scription.'

' Thank you, Miss Kitty,' he replied. ' I was — as soon as I left
the E.u — I mean, as soon as I could, I went round among my patron*
with my project. This lady immediately bought all my previous
poems, including the translation of " Lucretius," which the rascal
publisher declared had been his ruin, when he went bankrupt, ami
presented me with a hundred guineas, with which I was enabled— 5
here he surveyed his person with satisfaction, and raised one leg to
get a better view of his stockings and shoe-buckles — ' I was enabled
to procure garments more suitable to a personage of ambition, and
to present myself to the honourable company assembled at Epsom oj
a footing of easy equality.'

' But a hundred guineas will not last for ever,' I said, thinking of
the sums of money which I had already spent on frocks and ribbonh
since we came from London.

' That is not all,' he said ; ' I have my new volume of poems,
which has been subscribed by Lady Tamarind and her friends. This
is a change, is it not, Miss Kitty? Formerly, when I was in the
Lu — I mean, before my good fortune came — a sixpenny ordinary
was beyond me : I have lived upon half-a-crown for a week : I havo
written lines on a "Christian's Joys "when starving: and I Lave

1 88 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

composed the "Lamentations of a Sinner" when contemplating
suicide as the only relief from my troubles. Now — now — how dif-
ferent ! Fortune's wheel has turned — Fame is mine. And as for
poems, I can write as many as I please to give the world, and always
find a subscription list ready to my hand. This brain, Miss Kitty,
like the Fountain of Helicon, will run for ever : that is, while life
and Lady Tamarind remain.'

' The stream may get muddy sometimes,' said ■ Sir Miles, with a
smile.

Fate, which condemns poets to poverty, also compensates them
with hope. If they are in present sunshine, it will last for ever : if
in cold neglect, the future will give what the past has refused : pos-
terity will continue to wave the censing-pot and send up wreaths of
spicy smoke, a continual flow, grateful to the blessed spirit above : so
that, fortunate or in neglect, they dwell in a perpetual dream, which
keeps them ever happy.

Then the sanguine bard drew forth his new subscription list.

' I call it/ he said, ' by the modest title of a " Project for the Pub-
lication of a New Collection of Odes and Heroic Pieces," by Solomon
Stallabras, Esquire. T am aware that my birth gives no warrant
for the assumption of the rank of Esquire, but Lady Tamarind is
good enough to say that the possession of genius lifts a man to the
level of the gentry, if not the nobility of the country.'

' It does, Solomon ; it does,' said Sir Miles.

' I venture, ladies, therefore,' he said, taking a pencil from his
pocket, ' to solicit your honoured names as subscribers for this poor
effort of a (perhaps) too ambitious brain. The poems, when com-
pleted, will be printed in royal quarto, with the portrait of the
author as he appears crowned by Fame, while the Graces (draped
for the occasion in the modern taste) stand behind him : Cupid will
raise aloft the trumpet of Fame : the Muses will be seen admiring
from a gentle eminence which represents Parnassus : Apollo will be
figured presenting the poet with his own lyre, and the sacred stream
will flow at his feet — my own design. In the distance the skin of
Marsyas "will hang upon a tree, as a warning to the presumption of
rivals. The work will be bound in calf, and will be issued at the
price of two guineas. For that small sum, ladies, Solomon Stallabras
offers a copy of his poems.'

'Oh, Mr. Stallabras !' cried Mrs. Esther, 'for so charming a pic-
ture I would give not two but twenty guineas, to say nothing of the
poems. Go on, dear sir ; raise our thoughts to virtue, and strengthen
our inclinations in the path of duty. Poets, indeed, make the way
to heaven a path of roses.'

Now here was a change from old times ! Solomon flourishing a
subscription list in lace and silk, and Mrs. Esther offering guineas
by the dozen ! Sir Miles, who was leaning by the window just as lie
had been wont to do in our poor lodging, nodded and laughed, unseen
by Mrs. Father.

HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM. 189

* Permit me, sir,' she said, ' if you will be so good, to put my name
down for '

'Ob, madam !'

The poet bowed low and brandished his pencil.

' For ten copies of this immortal work, in one of which I would
ask you to write .your name, in your own hand, for the enrichment
of the volume and the admiration of posterity.'

' Madam,' said Solomon, with emotion, ' I will write my name in
the whole ten.'

' And, dear sir, one copy for Miss Kitty.'

' Such generosity ! such princessly, noble patronage of the Poetical
Art !' he fairly chuckled as he wrote down the names. ' Eleven
copies ! Twenty-two guineas ! This is indeed to realize fame.'

He received the money which Mrs. Esther paid him with a coun-
tenance all smiles, although he vainly tried to throw into his ex-
pression the pride of the poet, to whom money is but filthy lucre.

We then conversed on Epsom and its beauties, and as the gentle-
men had as yet seen none of them, I proposed to lead them to the
Downs, whence I promised them such a landscape as should infinitely
rejoice their eyes. They accepted with expressions of gratitude,
and we started. When, however, we came to the doors of the
Spread Eagle, Sir Miles recollected that at twelve he always took a
tankard of cool October for the good of his health. He therefore
left us, promising to follow. But as he did not come, and we saw
him no more that day, I suppose he found the society of the tankard
more enchanting than that of Kitty Pleydell. We therefore walked
up the hill alone, and presently stood upon the open down, which
commands so noble a view. The place was quite deserted that day,
save for a single group of gentlemen, who were conducting a match,
but so far otf that we heard not their voices.

I took advantage of this solitude to convey to the poet an instruc-
tion that it would be better not to talk freely at Epsom concerning
such vicissitudes of fortune as we had experienced. I pointed out
to him that until Mrs. Ether's position was securely fixed it might
do her injury to have her story garbled by censorious tongues ; that,
for his own sake, his late connection with the Liberties of the Fleet
would be better concealed ; and that, for myself, although it mat-
tered less, because I was never a prisoner while yet an inmate of
the Pules, I did not wish my story, such as it was, to be passed
about the Wells, and mangled in the telling.

Mr. Stallabras declared stoutly that he would not for worlds
reveal one word about the past — for my sake.

' Nay,' I said, ' not for mine, but for the sake of that dear lady to
whom you owe so much.'

' It is true,' he said ; ' I owe her even life. She hath fed me from
her slender stores when I was starving. And when no one would
even read my verses she would learn them by heart and repeat them
with tears. For her sake, then, if not for yours.'

190 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Then his face assumed an expression like unto that with which ha
had once before made me an offer of his hand, and I knew that he
was going to do it again. If such a thing is going to be done, the
sooner it is over the better. Therefore I waited with calmness,
hoping that the paroxysm would be short and not violent.

' Miss Kitty,' he began, turning very red, ' some time ago I was
penniless, almost starving, and detained in the (absurdly called)
Liberties of the Fleet for the amount of forty pounds sixteen
shillings and eightpence — a sum so small that it made me blush to
confess it, most of my friends in the same place being incarcerated
for substantial sums of hundreds and even thousands. In this
difficult position, which required the philosophy of a Stoic to endure
with resignation, I had the temerity to offer my hand to the most
beautiful woman in the world. I have often, since, wondered at my
own audacity and her gentleness while she refused so presumptuous
a proposal.'

' Indeed, Mr. Stallabras,' I said, ' you conferred great honour
upon me.'

He bowed.

' The position of affairs,' he went on, ' is now changed. The poet's
brows are crowned with bays by the hand of a lady as skilled in
poets as she is in pug-dogs ; his pockets are lined with guineas ; as
for the Fleet Pules — I whistle the memory of the place to the
winds. Phew ! it is gone, never to return : I see before me a long
aifd great future, when booksellers will compete for the honour of
publishing me, and the greatest lords and ladies in the land will
rush to subscribe for copies. Like Shakespeare, I shall amass a
fortune : like Prior, I shall receive offers of embassies : like Addison
and Chaucer, I shall be placed in posts of honour and profit.'

' I hope, Mr. Stallabras,' I said, ' that such will indeed be your
future.'

' Do you really hope so, Miss Kitty V His face flushed again,
and I was quite sorry for him, knowing the pain I was about to in-
flict upon him. 'Do you hope so? Then that emboldens me to
say — Fairest of your sex, divine nymph, accept the homage of a
poet : be celebrated for ever in his immortal verse. Be my Laura !
Let me be thy Petrarch !'

' I will,' I replied. ' I accept that offer joyfully. I will be to you
what Lam - : i was to Petrarch, if that will content you.'

I gave him my hand, which he seized with rapture.

'Oh, beautiful Kitty !' he cried, with such joy in his eyes that I
repented having said so much, ' fortune has now bestowed upon me
all 1 ask. When, goddess, wilt thou crown my happiness !'

' It is already crowned,' I replied. ' I have given you, Mr. Stalla-
bras, all you asked for. Let me remind you that you yourself told
rue the story of Petrarch's love. I will be your Laura, but I must
have the liberty of doing what Laura did — namely, the right to
marry some one else,'

HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM. 191

His face fell.

' Oh ! ; he murmured. ' Why did I not say Helo'ise V

' Because she was shut up in a convent. Come, Mr. Stallabras,
let us remain friends, which is far better for both of us, and less
trying to the temper than being lovers. And I will help you with
your subscription-book. As for being married, you would tire of
me in a week.'

Upon this he fell to protesting that it was impossible for any man
to tire of such a paragon among women, and I dare say the poor
deluded creature really meant what he said, because men in love are
blind. When this failed to move me, he lamented his ill-fortune in
having placed his hopes upon the heart of a beautiful statue as cold
as Dian. Nor was it until he had prophesied death to himself and
prayed for ruin and loss of his fame, both of which, he said, were
now useless, or comparatively useless to him, that I succeeded in
making him, to a certain extent, reasonable, and calming his anger.
He really had thought that so grand an offer of marriage with a
poet, whom he placed on about the same level with Homer, would
tempt any woman. According to some detractors of the fair sex,
every woman believes that every man must fall in love with her :
but I am sure that there is no man who does not believe that he is
irresistible when once he begins to show a preference or an in-
clination.

I then persuaded him, with honeyed words, to believe in my
Borrow that I was not able to accept his proposals : and I added that
as he had by this time sufficiently admired the beauties of the
landscape, we might return to the town, when I should have the
honour of presenting him to some of the better sort among the
visitors.

He came down the hill with me, sighing after the manner of poets
in love, and pantiug a little, because he was fat and short of breath,
and I walked fast.

We found the Terrace crowded with people congregated for the
morning talk ; the breakfasts being all eaten, the tea-drinking over,
morning prayers finished, and the music playing merrily.

I presented the poet to Lady Levett as an ingenious gentleman
whose verses, known all over town, were doubtless already well
known to her ladyship. She had not the hardness of heart to deny
knowledge of the poet, and gave him a kindly welcome to Epsom,
where, she said, she had no doubt whatever but that he would meet
with the reception due to qualities of such distinction.

Then I ventured to suggest that Mr. Stallabras was receiving
names for a subscription edition of his new poems. Lady Levett
added hers, and begged the poet to visit her at her lodging, where
she would discharge her debt.

In the course of an hour I presented Stallabras to young Lord
Eardesley, Harry Temple, and half the gentlemen at the Wells,
asking of each a subscription to the poems, so that the fortunate poet

192 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

found himself some fifty guineas the richer by Ms mornincr'g
work.

' Miss Kitty,' he said, humbly, 'I knew not, indeed, that you were
so great a lady. The " Queen of the Wells," I am told. Not but all
who know your worth and kindness must rejoice at this signal
triumph. I now plainly see why I must be content with the lot of
Petrarch.'

Once launched in society, the poet became quickly a kind of
celebrity. Just as, in some years, a watering-place would boast of
having among its visitors such famous -men as Dr. Johnson, Mr.
Garrick, or Mr. Richardson, so now it pointed to Mr. Stallabras, and
said to strangers, ' See ! The great Mr. Stallabras ! The illustrious
poet !'

He, like all men born in London, was equal to the opportunity,
and rose on the wave of fashion ; his subscription list kept mounting
up ; he sent his poems to the press ; he received proofs and read
them beneath the portico, which he compared to the columns where
the Eoman poets had been accustomed to read their compositions.
We gathered round and listened ; we cried, with our handkerchiefs
to our eyes : ' O Mr. Stallabras, how fine ! how wondrous pathetic !
how just !' Then would he bow and twist, and wave his hand, and
wag his head.

He became an oracle, and, like all oracles in the matter of taste,
he quickly learned to give the law. He affected to understand
pictures, and talked about the ' brio ' of one painter, and the " three-
lights ' rule of another ; he was very sarcastic in the matter of
poetry, and would allow but two good poets in the century — himself
and Mr. Alexander Pope ; in the region of romance he would allow
little credit to Fielding, but claimed immortality for Richardson.

' Oh, sir, pardon me,' he said to one who attributed the greater
merit to the former writer. ' Pardon me. The characters and the
situations of Fielding are so wretchedly low and dirty that I cannot
imagine anyone being interested in them. There is, I admit, some
strength of humour in him, but he hath over-written himself. I
doubt he is a strong, hulking sort of man.'

' But, sir,' said Lady Levett, ' we ladies like men to be strong and
hearty as becomes a man. You surely do not mean that every big
man must have low tastes.'

' The mind and the body are united,' said the little poet, ' they
influence one another. Thus, in a weak frame we find delicacy, and
in a strong frame, bluntness. Softness and tenderness of mind are
often remarkable in a body possessed of the same qualities. Tom
Jones could get drunk on the night of his uncle's recovery — no
doubt Mr. Fielding would manifest his joy in the same manner.'

He went on to assure us that Lady Bellaston was an intimate
friend of Mr. Fielding's ; that Booth was himself ; Tom Jones, again,
himself ; Amelia his first wife ; his brawls, gaols, sponging-houses,
and quarrels all drawn from his own personal experience.

HOW TWO OLD FRIENDS CAME TO EPSOM. 193

' He who associates with low companions, ladies,' concluded the
ex-prisoner of the Fleet, 'must needs himself be low. Taste consorts
only with tasteful persons.'

' Should not a lady be beautiful, Mr. Stallabras V asked a
bystander. ' I always supposed so, but since a man is not to be
strong, perhaps I was wrong.'

' Sir !' Mr. Stallabras drew himself up to his full height, and his
■fingers closed upon the roll of proof-sheets as if it had been a sword-
hilt. 'Sir! all ladies — who have taste — are beautiful. I am ready
to be the champion of the sex. Some are more beautiful than
others,'— here he raised his eyes to me and sighed. ' Some flowers are
more beautiful than others. The man of taste loves to let his eyes
rest on such a pleasing object,' — here two young gentlemen winked
at each other — ' she is a credit to her sex. When goodness is

joined to such beauty, as is the case with ' here he looked at me

and hesitated.

' Oh !' cried Nancy, ' say with me, Mr. Stallabras, or Miss
Peggy Baker.'

' May I say Miss Pleydell V he asked, with a comprehensive
smile. ' There, indeed, is all Clarissa, and the heart of sensibility, in
contemplating her perfections, reverts to the scenes of our divine
Richardson.'

CHAPTER XL

HOW SIE MILES EENEWED HIS OFFEB.

Thus did I get rid of one suitor, knowing that there were still two
more in the field, and anxious about my lord's absence, which, I
doubted not, was concerned in some way with me. Heavens ! if
he should find out the secret ! If the Doctor should communi-
cate to him the thing which I desired to tell at my own time and
place.

The Evil One, at this juncture, suggested a temptation of bis
own.

Suppose a message, which my lord could trust, were to reach
him, stating that there would be no attempt to follow up the so-
called marriage in the Rules, that he could go his own way, un-
molested ; that the very certificate and the leaf of the register
containing the proof of the marriage would be restored to him —
how would that be ?

Yet, what sort of happiness could a wife expect who every day
had to fear the chance of detection and exposure? Some time or
other he would learn that I was the niece of the man who had dealt
him this blow ; some day he would leai-n the whole story. Why,
there was not only the Doctor, but his man Roger, the villain whh
the pale face, the scarred cheeks, and the red nose. If the Doctor

13

194 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

were dead, what would prevent such a man from telling the story
abroad and proclaiming it to all comers P

For poor Kitty there was only one course open : she must work
her way to happiness through shame and confession. Yet with all
the shame and confession there was no certainty that the happiness
would follow. A man vehemently loves and desires a woman, but
a woman vehemently desires the love and desire of a man. I de-
sired, with all my strength and with all my might, the affections
of my lord. His image, his idea, were with me always. JFor me
there was no other man in the world.

But first I had to deal with my present suitors.

Solomon dismissed, and made happy with praise and guineas (a
poet is a creature whose vanity seems always to outweigh all other
qualities), I had next to reckon with Sir Miles, who was more
reasonable and yet more persistent.

I knew that he had come to Epsom on purpose to seek me out.
That was borne in upon me with a force not to be resisted. He
always did me the honour of showing me a preference when we
lived under the same roof, and when he would lie in wait for me
at the foot of the sanded stairs. And, of course, I liked him. He
■was good-natured, he had the air noble ; he would not, certainly,
beat his wife or treat her unkindly, although he would probably
spend all the money in drink and play. And whether he was rich
or poor, in the Rules or in the Prison, or wandering free, he would
still be the same easy; careless creature, happy in the sunshine,
happier by candlelight over a bowl of punch.

On the Terrace, where we met him in the afternoon, he was the
same, save that his clothes were newer, as when, just as he lounged
now beneath the trees, he had then lounged among the bulkheads
and stalls of the market, till evening came with the joys of the
day. Always with the carriage of a gentleman. Most of the beaux
of Epsom were such gentlemen as claim the title of Esquire by
right of their profession as attorneys, barristers, officers, nabobs,
rich merchants, and the like. As for their manners, they were
easy so long as they were natural, and then they were somewhat
barbarous ; when they endeavoured to assume the manners of such
as Lord Chudleigh, they were awkward. As for the young fellows
from the country estates, they were always clowns : they came
clowns to the Wells : they put on fine clothes : laughed and
grimaced : lost their money at horse-racing and lansquenet, and
went home clowns. But Sir Miles was always, even when drunk,
a gentleman.

I suppose he had the impudence, at first, to suppose that I was
going to seek him out and distinguish him before all the company
with my particular regard. When he discovered that it was diffi-
cult to get speech with the Queen of the Wells unless you joined
her court, he came along with the rest, and was speedily as ready
with his compliment, his innuendo, his jest, and his anecdote. He

IJOW SIR MILES RENEWED HIS OFFER. 195

was more ready than most because he had seen the great world in
his youth, and had caught their manner. The general run of gal-
lants were, it seemed to me, afraid of him. To be sure, he was a
big, strong man. could have crunched two or three of the slender
beaux between his arms : yet he was the most kind-hearted fellow
in the world.

Three days after his arrival, Lord Chudleigh having then been
away for a week, and I beginning to wonder what business kept
him so long from the apron-strings of Kitty, he invited me to go
with him to the Downs to see a match. I would go with him,
though well I knew what he meant; and, of course, when we goc
to the Downs, the match was over and the people going home.

' Egad, Miss Kitty,' he said, ' there is always such a plaguy
crowd after your ladyship's heels, that a man gets never a chance
of a word with you, save edgewa3'S with the pretty little beaux.
Well, I have told Solomon to go to the house and take care of Mrs.
Esther. There they are, cheek by jowl, and her handkerchief up
to her eyes over his sentimental poetry. You and I can have a
talk to ourselves. It is only a quarter of a mile from here to your
lodging, but, if you like to come with me by way of the old well
and Banstead, we can make it half a mile.'

' Thank you, Sir Miles,' I said ; ' I am not anxious to double
that quarter of a mile. Consider, if you please, that I have to get
home, dine, and dress for the day.'

' Very good. Have it your own way. That, to be sure, you
always will have. I think, for my part, that you never looked so
nice as when you wore your hair in curls, and a holland frock.
Miss Kitty, do you remember a certain day when a baronet, out
at elbows, offered you his hand — with nothing in it ?'

' I remember it perfectly.' I laughed at the recollection. 'And
oh, Sir Miles, to think of how you looked when you made that
condescending proposal. It was after a most disgraceful evening
■ — you best know where. You had been brought home singing.
Your neck-ribbon was untied, your wig awry, your hand shaky,
your cheeks red, and in your left hand a brown mug full of old
October. What a suitor !'

' Yes,' he replied, laughing, without the least appearance of
being offended by my picture. 'When in the Hides, I behaved
according to the custom of the place. I am no longer in the
Kules, but at the Wells. I remember that tankard. Considering
that the day is sultry, 1 wish I had one in my hand this very
moment.'

' I am sure, Sir Miles, that your conduct under these happier
circumstances will reflect greater credit upon you.'

' Happier circumstances ?' he said. ' Well, I suppose so. In
the Fleet I could borrow of my cousins a guinea a week or there-
about; yet borrowing is uncertain and undignified: the manner
of living was cheap, but it was rude. Drink there was— more than

13-2

196 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

one Lad a right to expect ; drink was plentiful, but only the Doctni
got good punch ; no morals were expected of a Fleet Eules Chris-
tian. I know not that things are happier now than tlien. How-
ever, you might think so. Girls never have any philosophy. I
have come into a small estate of six hundred pounds a year. It is
not so much, by five times six hundred, as what I started with ;
still, with six hundred a year, one can live. Do you not think so. 1 '

' it seems to me a very handsome provision,' I replied, thinking
that Mrs. Esther had about the same.

' Yes, it will do.'

He fanned his face with his hat, and begged me to sit down on
the grass and listen to him for a moment. Men, even the most
careless, like Sir Miles, have a way of becoming suddenly solemn
when they ask a woman to become their wife. I know not whether
their gravity springs from a sense of their own great worth, or from
a feeling of unworthiness ; whether it is a compliment to the woman
they woo, or to themselves. Or it may be a confession of the holi-
ness of the state of matrimony, which one would fain hope to be
the case.

Sir Miles then, blushing and confused, offered me, for the second
time, his hand.

'You see,' he said, 'the right hand doth no longer shake, nor
doth the left hand hold a pot of October. I no longer am carried
home at night.' He sighed, as if the reminiscence of past times
was pleasing but saddening. 'I am not anymore the man that
once I was. Will you, sweet Kitty — will you be Lady Lackington P

' I cannot,' I said.

' There is an income of six hundred pounds a year,' he went on.
' I believe there is a small house somewhere ; we could live m it
rent-free. You were always fond of hens and pigs, and milk,
flowers, apples, and all these things. I will keep two hundred
pounds for myself, and give you four. With two hundred I shall
have to manage, once a week or so, a little hazard, or a trifling
lansquenet.'

' What ?' I asked. ' Marry a gamester ?'

' What matter as to that, when he will settle his money on his
wife ? Think of it, Kitty. 1 am a baronet, though a poor one,
and of as good a family as any in Norfolk. Why, the Lackingtons,
as everybody knows, were on their lands before the Conqueror.'

' And if it is not enough to be a gamester, you are also— oh, Sir

Miles ! the shame of it '

' We gentlemen of Norfolk,' he replied, without any appearance
of shame, ' are honest topers all. I deny it not. Yet what matters
such a trifle in the habits of a man P "Did any gentleman in the
county drink harder than my father P Yet he was hale and tough
at sixty, and would have lived to eighty but for a fall he got riding
home one night after dinner, Laving a cask, or thereabouts, of
port inside him, by reason of which he mistook an open quarry for

HOW SIR MILES RENEWED HIS OFFER. 197

the lane which should have led him home, and therefore broke his
neck.'

' So that, if his wife loved him, as no doubt she did, it was the
drink that robbed her of a husband. Your tale hath a useful
moral, Sir Miles.'

' Come, pretty Puritan, look at me. I am tvrenty-riine — in my
thirtieth year ; strong and hearty, if I do get drunk of an evening.
What then ? Do you want to talk to your husbaud all night ?
Better know that he is safe asleep, and likely to remain asleep
till the drink is gone out of his head.'

' Oh, the delights of wedlock ! To have your husband brought
home every night by four stout fellows !'

' Evening drink hurts no man. Have I a bottle nose ? Do my
hands shake? Are my cheeks fat and pale? Look at me, Kitty.'
He held out his arms and laughed.

' Yes, Sir Miles,' I replied ; 'I think you are a very lusty fellow,
and, in a wrestling-bout, I should think few could stand againuS
you. But as a husband, for the reasons I have stated, I say — .No !'

' Take the four hundred, Kitty, and make me happy. I love
thee, my girl, with all my heart.'

' Sir Miles, I cannot do it honestly. Perhaps I wish I could.'

' You won't ?' He looked me full in the face. ' I see you won't.
You have such a tell-tale, straightforward face, Kitty, that it pro-
claims the truth always. I believe you are truth itself. They
pulled you out of a well, down in your country place, in a bucket,
and then went about saying you had been born.'

' Tliank you, Sir Miles.'

'Ami, therefore, to go hang myself in my garters, or yours, if
you will give them to me ?'

' If you do, I shall be the first to run and cut you down.'

' Sweet it were,' he murmured, * to be even cut down by your
fair hand. If one was sure that you would come in time '

' You will be reasonable, dear sir, aud you will neither say nor
do anything silly.'

' I do not suppose I shall pine away in despair ; nor shall I hang
my head ; nor shall I go about saying that there are as good fish in
the sea as ever came out of it, because, when we fished you, we
fished the best. And I swear, Kitty ' — here he did swear after
men's profane way, but he needed not to have sworn so loudly or
so long — ' that truly, sweet Kitty, thou art the fairest, the loveliest,
and the best h'sh that ever came out of any sea — a bewitching mer-
maid ! I wish thee a good husband.

' On Stella's lap he laid his head,
And, looking in her eyes,
He cried, " Remember, when I'm dead,
That I deserved the prize." '

" Thank you, Sir Miles. A shorter and a less profane oath rrould
surely have better graced the subject.'

198 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

' It cannot be graced too much,' he said, as if to swear lustily
was to confer honour upon the woman he thought to love. ' For
your sake, Kitty, I would ever forswear punch, tobacco, and strong
waters ; drink nothing but October ; and never get drunk save on
Saturday nights : for your sake would I go live in the country
among the cocks and the hens, the ducks and the pigs ; for you
would I go religiously to church every Sunday at forenoon, and ex-
pect the parson for the beef and pudding after the sermon ; for
your sake would I gamble no more, save once in a way when
quarter-day brought in the rents.'

' That would be a mighty reformation indeed, Sir Miles.'

' Now, however, since you will not have me, I shall play with
four hundred a year out of the six. But I will be careful, all the
same : I shall punt low, and never lose more than a guinea a night.'

Thus I was rid of my second suitor. Sir Miles ceased to attend
the count of followers who attended on the Terrace, but sat all day
in the card-room, playing. From time to time he met and saluted
me.

' Be not afraid,' he would say, ' on my behalf. The card-tables
are more pleasant than the air under the trees, and I think the
players are better company than your priggish popinjays. _ As for
my habits, fair Kitty, pattern of virtue, they have become virtuous.
I am never drunk — well, not often— and you have brought me
luck. I have won five hundred guineas from a nabob. Think of
the joy, when he pays me, of losing it all again !'

CHAPTEB XIL

EOW HARRY TEMPLE PROVED HIS VALOUR.

Tnus were poet and baronet reduced to submission. The third
suitor was harder to manage, because he turned sulky. Sportsmen
have said that a fish, or a bird, or a fox, when he sulks, is then
most difficult to secure. Thus, to be captured or cajoled, the victim
must be in a good temper.

Now Harry Temple went in gloomy indignation, as was visible to
all eyes. He walked alone upon the Terrace, or sat alone in the
Assembly Eoom, a Killjoy to behold. That would not have mattered,
because no girl feels much sorrow for a man who foolishly sulks
because he cannot marry her ; but everybody knew, or thought
they knew, the cause of his heavy looks. Peggy Baker said I had
thrown him over for the sake of a lord, who, she added kindly,
would certainly throw me over in turn. Some of the company cried
shame on the flinty-hearted woman who could let so pretty a fellow
go love-sick.

' Kitty,' his melancholy seemed to say, ' you left us a simple coun-
try girl : you would have been proud of my addresses had you

HOW HARRY TEMPLE PROVED HIS VALOUR. 199

understood my meaning' — this was quite true : 'you are now a
woman of fashion, and you have ambition : your head is turned
with flattery : you aspire to nothing short of a coronet. In those
days you were satisfied with the approval of your looking-glass and
your conscience : now you would draw all men to your heels, and
are not happy unless you make them all miserable.' But that was
not true at all ; I did not wish to make men miserable ; and it was
nothing to me whether they were miserable or happy. I thought
of one man only, as is natural to a woman in love.

' If,' I said to him one day, being tired by such exhibition of
temper, 'if you do not like the place, why make yourself unhappy
by staying here % Cambridge, methinks, would be a more fitting
abode for you, where there are books and scholars : not a watering-
place, where people come together to amuse themselves and be merry.'

' I shall stay here,' he replied, ' until I find there is no hope for me.'

' Oh, silly Harry !' I said ; ' is there no other woman in the world
who will make you happy, except poor Kitty Pleydell V

'No — none,' he shook his melancholy wig, the tie at the back of
his head wagging sorrowfully.

How was it possible to have any sympathy with so rueful a lover 1
Why, it made one ridiculous. Everybody said that Harry Temple
was in love with me, that I, for the worst of motives, viz. to catch a
coronet, refused him, and that he was an excellent match, especially
for one who was nothing better than a country parson's daughter.

' I believe only a curate, my dear,' Peggy Baker would say. ' No
doubt she lived on bacon fat and oatmeal, and knitted her own
stockings. And yet she refuses Harry Temple, a pretty fellow,
though studious, and a man whom any of us, gentlewomen born,
would be glad to encourage.'

' Oh !' I said to him, ' why do you not go 1 Why do you look re-
proaches on me V

' Because,' he replied, ' I still love you, unworthy as you are.'

' Unworthy ? Mr. Temple, methinks that a little civility ■'

' Yes, unworthy. I say that a girl who throws over her oldest
friends with the almost avowed intention of securing a title, without
knowing anything of the character of the man who bears it '

' This is too much !' I said. ' First, sir, let me know what there is
against Lord Chudleigh's character. Tell me, upon your word, sir,
do you know anything at all? Is he not a man of principle and
honour V

' I know nothing against him. I dare say that he is what you
think.'

' Well, sir ; and, in the next place, how dare you accuse me of de-
liberately trying to attract my lord ? Do you know me so well as to
read my soul 1 Do you know me so well as to be justified to your-
self when you attribute such a motive to me V

' What other motive can I attribute to you V he asked bitter!/
' Is he not a peer ? Is he not rich V

zoo THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Oh, Harry !' I cried, ' you will drive me mad between you.
Cannot a peer be a good man ? Cannot a girl — I say — may not a

girl Harry, you force me to say it — is it not possible for a girl to

fall in love with a man who is even a peer and a rich man 'I Go,
sir ! you have humbled me, and made me say words of which I am
ashamed. Go, if you please, and tell all the world what I have said. 1

Then he fell to asking my forgiveness. He was, he said, wretched
indeed : he had long lost my love.

' Man !' I said, ' you never had it !' — and now he was like to lose
my friendship.

This talk about friendship between a man and woman when both
are young seems to me a mighty foolish thiDg. For if the woman is
in love with some one else her friendship is, to be sure, worth just
nothing at all, because she must needs be for ever thinking of the
man she loves. There is but one man in all the world for her, and
that man not he who would fain be her friend. Therefore she gives
not a thought to him. Now if a man be in love with one woman
and ' in friendship' with another, I think that either his love for one
must be a poor lukewarm passion, which I, for one, would not be
anxious to receive, or his friendship for the other must be a chilly
sort of thing.

However, one must not be angry for ever : Harry Temple had
made me say a thing which I could not have said to any woman —
not even Nancy — and was ashamed of having said : yet when he
begged forgiveness I accorded it to him. Harry, I was sure, would
not repeat what I had said.

Somebody about this time wrote another of those little worthless
Epigrams or poems, and handed it about :

'Kitty, a fair Dissenter grown,
Sad pattern doth afford :
The Temple's laws she will not own,
Yet still doth love her Lord.'

'Do not be angry, Kitty,' said Nancy. 'This is the penalty of
greatness. What would Peggy Baker give to be lampooned ? Harry
is a fool, my dear. Any woman could tell, with half an eye, that
you are not the least in love with him. What are the eyes of men
like ] Are they so blinded by vanity as not to be able to see, with-
out being told, when they are disagreeable objects for a woman s
contemplation ¥

'I condole with you, Miss Pleydell,' said Peggy Baker. 'To he
the victim of an irreligious and even impious epigram must be truly
distressing to one, like yourself, brought up in the bosom of the
Church.'

' Thank you, dear Miss Peggy,' I replied, returning her smiling
courtesy- ' The epigram's wouud is easily healed, is it true that
you are yourself the author V

' Oh Lord, no !' she replied. ' I am but a poor poet, and could

HOW HARRY TEMPLE PROVED HIS VALOUR. 201

not for the world -write or say anything to wound another woman's
feelings.'

' She would not, indeed, dear Kitty,' cried Nancy, who was with
me. ' It is not true — though you may hear it so stated — that Miss
Peggy said yesterday on the Parade that your father was only a
curate, and that you made your own stockings. She is the kindest
and most generous of women. We think so, truly, dear Miss Peggy.
We would willingly, if we could, send you half-a-dozen or so of our
swains to swell your train. But they will not leave us.'

Was there ever so saucy a girl 1

Miss Peggy bit her lips, and I think she would have liked to box
Nancy's ears there and then, had she dared. But a few gentlemen
were standing round us, laughing at Nancy's sally. So she refrained.

' Oh, Miss Nancy !' she replied, trying to laugh, ' you are indeed
kind. But I love not the attentions of men at secondhand. You
are welcome to all my cast-off lovers. Pray, Miss Pleydell, may I
ask when we may expect his lordship back again V

' 1 do not know,' I replied. ' Lord Chudleigh does not send me
letters as to his movements or intentions.'

' I said so,' she replied, triumphant for the moment. ' I said so
this morning at the book-shop, when they were asking each other
what news of Lord Chudleigh. Some said Miss Pleydell would
surely know : I said that I did not think there was anything be-
tween his lordship and Miss Pleydell : and I ventured to predict
that you knew no more about his movements than myself.'

' Indeed,' said Nancy, coming to my assistance. ' I should have
thought you were likely to know more than Kitty.'

' Indeed, why V

'Because,' said Nancy, laughing, 'his lordship, who is, I believe,
one of your cast-off lovers, might perhaps have written to you for
old acquaintance' sake.'

Miss Peggy had no reason for loving me, who had dethroned her,
but she had reason for hating Nancy, who always delighted iD bring-
ing her to open shame.

' What have I done to you, Miss Levett?' she asked ber once, when
they were alone. ' You are not the reigning Toast : I am not jealous
of you : you have done no harm to me, nor I to you. Yet you
delight in saying the most ill-natured things.'

'You have done nothing to me, Miss Peggy,' Nancy told her.
'But you have done a great deal to my poor Kitty, who is innocence
itself. You nave slandered her : you have traduced her family,
which everybody knows is as good as your own, though her father
was a country clergyman and a younger son : you have denied her
beauty: you have written anonymous letters to her, calumniating a
young nobleman who, I verily believe, is a paragon of peers. No
doubt, too, you have written letters to him calumniating her
character. Truly, with the best intentions, you could not do much
to hurt her, for my Kitty is above suspicion.'

202 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Very well, miss,' said Miss Peggy ; ' very well : we understand
each other. As for your charges about anonymous letters '

' "We keep them all,' said Nancy ; ' and with them a letter written
and signed by yourself. And I think I shall show the letters about
on the Terrace.'

' If you dare ' but here she checked herself, though in a great

rage. ' You will do as you please, Miss Levett. I shall know, some
day, how to revenge myself for your iDsults. As for your curate's
girl, I warrant her innocence and her being " above suspicion " —
indeed ! — to be pretty hypocrisy and pretence. As if any woman
was above suspicion !'

' Oh !' said Nancy, as a parting shot, ' nobody, I assure you, ever
thought Miss Peggy Baker or any of her friends above suspicion.
Let us do you, dear miss, so much justice. You shall not find us
ungrateful or unmindful of the benefits you have conferred, or are
about to confer, upon us. Malice and spite, when they are impotent,
are amusing, like the tricks of a monkey in a cage, or a bear danc-
ing at a stake.'

Such angry passions as these disturbed the peaceful atmosphere
of the Wells. What use was it for Mr. Nash, of Bath, to deprive
the gentlemen of their swords when he left the ladies their tongues?
' The tongue can no man tame : it is an unruly evil, full of deadly
poison.'

The accident which followed, a day or two after this, may or may
not have been instigated by an enemy. Nancy always declared it was,
but then she may have been prejudiced, and we never got at the truth.

Every Friday or Saturday there came down from London a coach
full of gentlemen from the City or the Inns of Court, to spend two
or three days at the Wells. These were our most noisy visitors : they
pushed into the coteries, and endeavoured to form parts of the trains
of the beauties in vogue : they drank too much wine : gambled
fiercely for small sums; and turned the quiet decorum of the assembly
into a babel of riot, noise, loud laughter, coarse jokes, and ill-breed-
ing. The Sunday was thus spoiled : those of us who loved quiet
stayed, for the most part, at home when we were not in church, or
wandered on the quiet Downs, where we were undisturbed. Solo-
mon Stallabras attended us on these occasions, and we turned our
conversation on grave matters. I exhorted him, for instance, to
direct his splendid genius to the creation of a sacred epic, which
should be to the eighteenth century what Milton's ' Paradise Lost '
was to the seventeenth. He promised to think of it, and we talked
over various plans. The Deluge, St. Paul, the Apocalypse, were
discussed in turn : for my own part, I thought that the Book of
Revelation would prove a subject too sublime for our poet's strength,
and recommended, as a fitter subject for his easy and graceful verses,
the life and travels of St. Paul. In these considerations we forgot,
for awhile, the calumnies of our enemy, and each put aside, for a
time, his own private anxieties.

HOW HARRY TEMPLE PROVED HIS VALOUR. 203

One Saturday evening, while Lord Chudleigh was still away, a
noisier party than usual were in the Assembly Booms, and although
there was no dancing, the talk and quarrelling of the gamblers were
incessant, while lights were hung out among the trees, and the walk
was crowded with people. Neither Nancy nor I was present, having
little desire to be stared at by ill-bred young citizens or pushing
Templars. Unfortunately, Harry Temple was among them.

While he was idling among the trees there passed him a group of
three young fellows, all talking together noisily. I suppose they had
been drinking. One of them, unfortunately, caught sight of liariv,
and began to laugh. Then they stopped, aud then one stepped for-
ward and made Harry a profound bow.

'We welcome,' he said, 'the Knight of the Rueful Countenance.
We condole with your misfortune.

' " Her Temple's rule she doth not own,
Though still she loves her Luid." '

Harry was not only melancholy, but also, as some such men are,
he was choleric ; and he was strong, being bred and brought up to
country pursuits. In a moment his cane was in one hand and his
assailant's cravat was in. his other. Then he began to beat the man
with his cane.

The others stood stupid with amazement. Sir Miles, who was
on his way to the tables, and had seen the beginning of the fray,
stepped to the front.

( ' Who interferes with Mr. Temple has to do with me,' he shouted.
Fair play, gentlemen. Let them tight it out with fists like men,
first — and stick each other afterwards with rapiers like Frenchmen,
if they like. Gentlemen, I am Sir Miles Lackington, Baronet, at
your service, if anyone wants a little breathing.'

He held his cane in readiness, but the other gentlemen kept
aloof. When Harry had spent his rage, because, so far as I cau
learn, there was no resistance, he shook off his opponent, adjusted
his wig, which was a little deranged, and turned quietly to Sir
Miles :

' You will oblige me, Sir Miles 1 Thank you, gentlemen all—
your servant.'

He resumed his walk, lounging among the trees, the women look-
ing after him with a mixture of fright and admiration, as calm as if
nothing had happened.

The man who was beaten was followed off the field by his friends.
Nor could Sir Miles get speech of them that evening. In the morn-
ing, when he went to make his murderous appointment, he found
they were gone. Fighting, it would seem, was not to their liking ;
though an insult to a harmless gentleman was quite in their way.

' I am sorry, Harry,' I said honestly, because a woman cannot
help respecting a man who is brave and strong, ' that the taking of
my name has caused you this trouble.'

204 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' I am sorry, too,' he said, sadly. ' Yet I blame them not,
Kitty.'

' But you do blame me,' I replied. ' Harry, if, in a little while —
somehow — I am able to show that I could not, even if I wished,
grant the thing you want— if — I say— I can make that quite clear
and plain to you — will you promise to be reconciled to what
cannot — cannot be avoided V

' If, Kitty — what an if 1 But you ask the impossible. There is
no reason — there cannot be. Why, such a thing is impossible.'

' But again — if Harry, promise me so much.'

He laughed grimly.

' Well, I promise.'

' Give me your hand upon it,' I said. ' Now we shall be friends
indeed. Why, you silly Harry, you let the days go by, and you
neglect the most beautiful girls who could perhaps make you a
hundred times as happy as Kitty, all because you deck her out with
imaginary virtues which she doth not possess. Foolish Harry !
Open your eyes and look about you. What do you see V

I, for my part, saw pretty Nancy running along the walk to meet
us. Love was in her eyes, grace in her action ; youth, beauty,
sweetness in her comely shape, her rosy cheeks, her pretty smile,
her winning tongue, her curly locks. She was in morning dress,
without hoop or patch. Through the leaves of the trees the sun
shone softly upon her, covering her with a soft light which might
have been that in which Venus stole along the shore in a golden
mist to meet her son — of which my father had read to me. She
was pretty, she was sweet ; far prettier than I, who was so tall ; far
sweeter than I, who was full of evil passions and shame, being a
great sinner.

' Foolish Harry !' I said. ' What do you see V

He only looked me in the face and replied :

' I see nothing but the beautiful Kitty.'

' Oh, blind, blind !'

CHAPTER XIII.

HOW DUJRDANS WA8 ILLUMINATED.

While these things were proceeding, Lord Chudleigh being still
absent from Durdans, I received a second letter from the Lector.

Alter the usual compliments to Mis. Esther, he proceeded to the
important part of his communication :

' For your private eye only.

' I have to tell you that yesterday I saw and conversed with Lord
Chudleigh. He sought me in order to lind out, if possible, the
name, character, and condition of a certain person. 1 refused to

HO IV DURDANS WAS ILLUMINATED. 205

grant him that information ; I also assured him that he would tind
it impossible to break the alliance with which I had provided him.
This I did with the greater pleasure, having heard from a sure
source that he hath lately paid addresses to you of so particular a
kind as to make the whole company at Epsom Wells believe that
they mean honourable proposals. I presume, therefore, that could
he destroy the evidence of his former marriage he would be pre-
pared to offer his hand. This is every way better than I could
expect or wish, because when the moment arrives for informing him
of the truth, I can point out to his lordship that his opinion and
mine of what a wife should be exactly agree. Our triumph will
then be complete/

Our triumph ! This was what he called it. I was to be the
consenting party to inflict shame and humiliation upon my lord.
This was too much. Humiliation for him 1 Why, it was for my-
self, and my whole thoughts were how to save him, how to set him
free. The Doctor expected me to triumph over him. Why, what
did he know of a woman in love ? To triumph over a man for
whose dear sake she would lay down her life to save him from
humiliation !

It was certain to my heart that my lord already felt for me that
warmth of affection which impels a man to make a woman his
wife. I was sure of this. I was so sure that I already gave myself
in imagination entirely to him, and placed his interests above my
own.

In short, before 1 ventured to confess the fact to myself, and be-
fore he spoke to me — for as yet he had said no word except in compli-
ment and common gallantry — I loved him. There was, for me, but
one thing wanting to make me happy ; there was, for me, nothing
to think of, to hope for, to pray for, but the welfare of that one
man. And to such a woman did the Doctor send such a letter, pro-
posing that I should join him iu covering him with shame and
indignation. Would I thus let him choose the moment to confess
my shameful sin 1 Would I assist in covering the man I loved
with confusion, who would have clothed him in purple and placed
a chain about his neck, and helped him to ride forth in bravery and
triumph 1 Forbid the thought, kind Heaven ! Oh, that a man
should have such a mind, so thick and cloudy as no':, to perceive
that no woman but the basest and worst could join a conspiracy so
hateful ! Unhappy girl, to be made the victim of a plot in which
the punishment would fall upon herself, while the wickedness would
rest with the man who devised it, and he against whom the plot
was designed would be its sole avenger !

I resolved to be beforehand with the Doctor. I would myself
choose the time : I would tell him all : I would assure him that,
innocent as I had been in intention, I would never, never seek to
assert any rights over him ; that he was free, and could go seek a

zo6 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

•wife where he pleased. Ah ! should he please to go elsewhere, it
were better had I never been born.

Then, whatever moment I might choose for the confession, I could
think of none which could be chosen as favourable to myself. I
might write to him. That would be best ; I would write : for how
could a girl bear to see that face, which had always looked upon her
with kindness and affection, suddenly grow hard and stern, and re-
proach her for her great wickedness with looks of horror and indig-
nation % It seemed better to write. But, for reasons which will
presently appear, that letter was never written.

My lord returned. He called upon us next forenoon, and informed
us, looking grave and downcast, that he proposed to hold his garden-
party in Durdans Park on the next day. People had come from
Vauxhall to decorate the trees, and there would be fireworks, with
supper, and concert of horns.

I asked him, deceitfully, if his business in London had prospered.
He replied that it had not turned out so favourably as he hoped :
and then he checked himself and added that, to be sure, his atfairs
were of no interest to us.

Said Mrs. Esther :

1 Your lordship will not, I hope, believe that anything which con-
tributes to your happiness is so indifferent to us.'

He bowed, and we began to talk again about his fete.

Hi3 invitations included all the visitors of respectability at Epsom.
Nancy, out of pure kindness, had gone about inquiring of every-
one if he was invited ; and, if not, she got him an invitation at
once. We did not, indeed, include the tallow-chandlers and hosiers
of London, who frequented Epsom that year in great numbers, but
took up their own end of the Assembly .Rooms, and mostly walked
on the New Parade. But we included all who could claim to belong
to the polite world, because nothing is more humiliating than to be
omitted from such a festivity at a watering-place. I have known a
lady of fashion retire from Bath in mortification, being forgotten at
a public tea, and never again show her face at that modish but
giddy town.

The company were to assemble at five o'clock, the place of meeting
being fixed in that part of Durdans Park most remote from the
mansion, where the great trees of birch and elm make such an
agreeable wilderness that one might fancy one's self in some vast
forest. We were escorted by Sir Miles Lackington, who came
because all his brother gamblers had deserted the card-room for the
day ; and Mr. Stallabras — Solomon — was dressed in another new
coat (of purple), and wore a sword with a surprisingly fine hilt.
He also had a pair of shoe-buckles in gold, given him by his female
Maecenas, the widow of the brewer, in return for a copy of verses.
He was greatly elated, never before having received an invitation
from a person of such exalted rank.

' Now, indeed/ he eaid, ' I feel the full sweetness of fame. This

HOW DURDANS WAS ILLUMINATED. 207

it is, Miss Kitty, to be a poet. His society is eagerly sought by the
Great : he stands serene upon the giddy height of fashion, ennobled
by the Muses (who possess, like our own august sovereign, the right
of conferring rank) : he takes his place as an equal among those who
are ennobled by birth. No longer do I deplore that obscurity of
origin which once seemed to shut me out of the circles of the polite.
Fetter Lane may not be concealed in my biography : it should rather
be held up to fame as the place in which the sunshine of Apollo's
favour (Apollo, Miss Kitty, was the sun-god as well as the god of
poets, which makes the image appropriate) — the sunshine of Apollo
has once rested during the birth of an humble child. It was at
number forty-one in the second pair back, a commodious garret, that
the child destined to immortality first saw the light. No bees (so
far as I can learn) played about his cradle, nor did any miracles of
precocious genius foreshadow his future greatness. But, with
maternal prescience, his mother named him Solomon.'

All this because Nancy made Lord Chudleigh send him an in-
vitation ! Yet I doubt whether his lordship had ever read one of
his poems.

' It is a great blessing for a man to be a poet/ said Sir Miles,
smiling. ' If I were a poet I dare say I should believe that my
acres were my own again. If I were a poet I should believe that
luck would last.'

' Does the name of Kitty cease to charm V I asked.

Yes, it was true : Sir Miles had lost his five hundred guineas,
won of the nabob, and was now reduced to punt at a guinea a
night. This hardship made him melancholy.

' Yet,' he said, plucking up, ' if I cannot play, I can drink. Why,
my jolly poet,' slapping Solomon on the shoulder, ' we will presently
toast Miss Kitty as Jong as his lordship's champagne lasts.'

Mrs. Esther said that she saw no reason why, because one vice
was no longer possible, another should take its place.

' Madam,' said the baronet, ' it is not that I love one more than
the other. When the purse is full, Hazard is my only queen.
When the purse is empty, I call for the bowl.'

In such converse we entered the park, and followed in the pro-
cession of visitors, who flocked to the place of meeting, where, under
the trees, like another Eobin Hood, Lord Chudleigh stood to receive
his guests.

Kind Fortune has taken me to many feasts and rejoicings since
that day, but there are none to which my memory more fondly and
tenderly reverts ; for here, amid the sweet scent of woodland flowers,
under the umbrageous trees, while the air of the Downs, fragrant
and fresh, fanned our cheeks, my lord became my lover, and I knew
that he was mine for ever, in that sweet bond of union which shall
only be exchanged by death for another of more perfect love,
through God's sweet grace. Ah, day of days ! whose every moment
lives eternally ia our hearts ! Sometimes I think that there will

208 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

hereafter be no past at all, but that the sinner shall be punished by
the ever-present shame of his sins, and the saints rewarded by the
continual presence of great and noble thoughts.

Horns were stationed at various parts of the park, and while we
drank tea, served to us at rustic tables beneath the trees, these an-
swered one another in lively or plaintive strains. The tea finished,
we danced to the music of violins, on a natural lawn, as level as a
bowling-green, which seemed made for the feet of fairies. _ After
an hour of minuets, the country dances began, and were carried on
until sunset. Then for a while we roamed beneath the trees, and
watched the twilight grow darker, and presently rose the great
yellow harvest moon.

' In such a scene,' said Solomon, who was discoursing to a bevy
of ladies, ' man shrinks from speaking : he is mute : his tongue
cleaves to his palate '—at all events, the poet was not mute— 'here
nature proclaims the handiwork of the Creator.' He tapped his
forehead reflectively.

' Great Nature speaks : confused the sceptic flies ;
Eocks, woods, and stars sing truth to all the skies.

All the while the concert of the horns charmed the ear, while the
romantic aspect of the woods by night elevated the soul. When we
returned to our lawn we were delighted and surprised to find coloured
lamps hanging from the trees, already lit, imparting a look most
magical and wonderful, so that we cried aloud for joy. Nor was this
all : the tables were laid for supper with every delicacy that our noble
host could think of or provide.

Everybody was happy that evening. I think that even Peggy
Baker forgot her jealousies, and forgave me for the moment when
Lord Chudleigh gave as a toast the ' Queen of the Wells,' and all
the gentlemen drained a bumper in honour of Kitty Pleydell.

While the supper went on, a choir of voices sang glees and madri-
gals. Never was party more enchanting : never was an evening
more balmy : never were guests more pleased or host more careful
for them.

After supper more lamps were lit and hung upon the trees : the
violins began again, and country dances set in.

Now while I looked on, being more delighted to see than to
dance — besides, my heart was strangely moved with what I now
know was a presentiment of happiness — Lord Chudleigh joined me,
and we began to talk, not indifferently, but, from the first, gravely
and seriously.

' You will not dance, Miss Kitty V he asked.

' No, my lord,' I replied ; ' I would rather watch the scene, which
is more beautiful than anything I have ever dreamed of.'

'Come with me,' he said, offering me his hand, 'to a place more
retired, whence we can see the gaiety, without hearing too much the
laughter.'

HOW D URDA NS WAS ILL UMINA TED. 209

They should have been happy without laughing : the cries of
merriment consorted not with the scene around us.

Outside the circle of the lamps the woods were quite dark, but for
the light of the solemn moon. We wandered away from the noise
of the dancers, and presently came to a rustic bench beneath a tree,
where my lord invited me to rest.

It was not so dark but that I could see his face, which was grave
and unlike the face of an eager lover. There was sadness in it and
shame, as belongs to one who has a thing to confess. Alas ! what
ought to have been the shame and sadness of my face ?

'While they are dancing and laughing,' he said, 'let us talk seri-
ously, you and I, Miss Kitty.'

' Pray go on, my lord,' I said, trembling.

He began, not speaking of love, but of general things : of the am-
bition which is becoming to a man of rank : of the serious charge
and duties of his life : of the plans which he had formed in his own
mind worthily to pass through the years allotted to him, and to pre-
pare for the eternity which waits us all beyond.

' But,' he said, sadly, ' we wander in the dark, not knowing which
way to turn : and if we take a wrong step, whether from inadver-
tence or design, the fairest plan may be ruined, the most careful
schemes destroyed.'

' But we have a guide,' I said, ' and a light.'

' We follow not our leader, and we hide the light. Addison hath
represented life under the image of a bridge, over which men are
perpetually passing. But the bridge is set everywhere with hidden
holes and pitfalls, so that he who steps into one straightway falls
through and is drowned. We are not always drowned by the pit-
falls of life, but, which is as bad, we are maimed and broken, so that
for the rest of our course we go halt.'

' I pray, my lord,' I said, ' that you may escape these pitfalls, and
press on with the light before you to the goal of your most honour-
able ambition.'

' It is too late,' he said, sadly. ' Miss Kitty, you see in me the
most wretched of mortals, who might, I would sometimes venture to
think, have become the most happy.'

' You wretched, Lord Chudieigh T — oh, beating heart ! — ' you
wretched 1 Of all men you should be the most happy.'

' I have tried,' he said, ' to escape from the consequences of a folly
—nay, a crime. But it is impossible. I am fast bound and tied.'
He took my hand and held it, while he added : ' I may not say what
I would : I may not even think, or hope, or dream of what might
have been/

' Might have been, nry lord V

' Which cannot, now, ever be. Kitty, I thought after I discovered
that it was impossible that I would not return any more to Epsom
Wells ; in the country, or away on f ireign travel, I might in time

14

210 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

forget your face, your voice, your eyes — the virtues and graces which
sit so well in a form so charming — the elevated soul '

* My lord ! my lord !' I cried, ' spare me Yet,' I added, 'tell

me all that is in your mind. If I cannot rid you of your burden,
at least I may soothe your sorrow.'

' The matter,' he replied, ' lies in a few words, Kitty. I love you,
and I may not ask you to be my wife.'

I was silent for a while. He stood before me, his face bent over
mine.

' Why not V I asked.

'Because I have been a fool — nay, worse than a fool, a knave;
because I am tied by bonds which I cannot break ; and I am un-
worthy of so much goodness and virtue.'

' Oh !' I cried, ' you know not. How can you know 1 I am none
of the things which you imagine in me. I am a poor and weak girl ;
if you knew me you would surely think so too. I cannot bear that
you should think me other than what I am.'

' Why, my angel, your very modesty and your tears are the proof
that you are all I think, and more.'

' No,' I cried. ' If I told you all : if I could lay bare my very
soul to you, I think that you could'— I was going to add, 'love
me no longer,' but I caught myself up in time—' that you could no
longer think of me as better, but rather as worse, than other girls.'

'You know,' he said, ' that I love yon, Kitty. You have known
that for some time — have you not ?'

' Yes, my lord,' I replied, humbly ; ' I have known it, and have
felt my own unworthiness. Oh, so unworthy, so unworthy am I
that I have wept tears of shame.'

' Nay— nay,' he said. ' It is I who am unworthy. My dear, there
is nothing you could tell me which would make me love you less.'

I shook my head. There was one thing which I had to tell.
Could any man be found to forgive that '?

' I came back here resolved to tell you all. If I could not ask for
your love, Kitty, I might, at the very least, win your pity.'

' What have you to tell me, my lord V

It was well that the night was so dark that my face could not be
seen. Oh, telltale cheeks, aglow with fear and joy !

' What have you to tell me V I repeated.

'It is a story which I trust to your eyes alone,' he said. ' I havo
written it down. Before we part to-night I will give it to you.
Come ' — he took my hand again, but his was cold — ' come, we must
not stay longer. Let me lead you from this slippery and dangerous
place.'

' One moment ' — I would have lingered there all night to listen
to the accents of his dear voice. ' If you, my lord, have a secret to
tell to me, I also have one to tell you.'

' Nay,' he replied. ' I can hear none of your pretty secrets. My
peace is already destroyed. Besides,' he added desperately, ' when

HOW DURDANS WAS ILLUMINATED. 211

you have read what I have written you will see that it would be idle
to waste another thought upon me.'

' I will read it,' I said, 'to-night. But, my lord, on one promise.'

< And that is V

' That you will not leave Epsom without my knowledge. Let me
speak with you once more after I have read it, if it is only to weep
with you and to say farewell.'

' I promise.'

' And — oh, my lord ! if I may say it— since your lordship may
not marry me, then I, for your sake, will never marry any other
man.'

' Kitty !'

' That is my promise, my lord. And perhaps — sometimes — you
will give a thought to your poor — fond Kitty.'

He caught me in his arms and showered kisses upon my cheeks
and lips, calling me his angel and a thousand other names, until I
gently pushed him from me and begged him to take me back to the
company. He knelt at my feet and took my haud in his, holding
it in silence. I knew that he was praying for the blessing of Heaven
upon my unworthy head.

Then he led me back to the circle of lights, when the first person
we met was Miss Peggy Baker.

' Why, here,' she cried, looking sharply from one to the other,
( are my lord and Miss Pleydeli. Strange that the two people
we have most missed should be found at the same time — and to-
gether, which is stranger still.'

Nancy left her swains and ran to greet me.

' My dear,' she whispered, ' you have been crying. Is all well f

' I am the happiest woman and the most unhappy in the world,'
I said. ' I wish I were in my bed alone and crying on my pillow ;'
and she squeezed my hand and ran back to her lovers.

My lord himself walked home with us. We left before the party
broke up. At parting he placed in my hand a roll of paper.

' Eemember,' I whispered ; 'you have promised.'

He made no answer, but stooped and kissed my fingers.

CHAPTEE XIV.

HOW MY LORD MADE HIS CONFESSION".

It was not a long manuscript. I kissed the dear handwriting before
I began.

' To the Queen of my Heart,' it began.

'Dearest Girl,

' Since I first had the happineas of worshipping at your shrine
I have learned from watching your movements, listening to youi"

14—2

212 THE CHAPLAIN OF 7 HE FLEET.

voice, and looking at your face, something of what that heavenly
beauty must have been like which, we are told, captivated and drove
mad the ancients, even by mere meditation and thought upon it."
Did ever girl read more beautiful language 1 ' And by conversa-
tions with you, even in the gay assembly or on the crowded Terrace,
I have learned to admire and to love that goodness of heart which
God hath bestowed upon the most virtuous among women. I say
this in no flattery or desire to pay an empty compliment, hut sin-
cerely, and out of the respect and admiration, as well as the love,
which I have conceived for one who is, I dare maintain, all good-
ness.' Ob, Kitty, Kitty ! to read this with blushing cheeks and
biting conscience ! Surely it must make people good to be believed
good ; so that, by a little faith, we might raise and purify all man-
kind !

' It is my purpose to-night, if I find an opportunity, to tell you
that I am the most wretched man in the world, because by a fatal
accident, of which I must presently force myself to speak, I am for
ever shut out from the happiness which it was, I believe, the inten-
tion of a merciful Providence to confer upon me. Yet am I also
fortunate, and esteem myself happy in this respect, that I have for
on"e in my life been in the presence of as much female beauty and
virtue as was ever, I believe, found together in one human soul. To
tel! you these things, to speak of my love, is an alleviation of suf-
fering. To tell the cause of this unhappinessis worse than to plunge
a knife into my heart. Yet must it be told to your ear alone.

' Last year, about the early summer, a rumour began to run
through the coffee-houses that there was a man of extraordinary
wit, genius, and humour to be met with in the Liberties, or Eules,
of the Fleet Prison. These Eules, of which you know nothing '—
oh, Kitty ! nothing ! — ' are houses, or lodgings, lying in certain
streets adjacent to the Fleet Market, where prisoners for debt are
allowed, on payment of certain fees, and on finding security, to re-
side outside the prison. In fact they are free, and yet being, in the
eyes of the law, still prisoners, they cannot any more be arrested
for debt. Among these prisoners of the Rules was a certain Eeverend
Gregory Shovel, a man of great learning, and a Doctor of Divinity
of Cambridge, a divine of eloquence and repute, once a fashionable
preacher, who, being of extravagant and luxurious habits, which
brought him into expenditure above his means, at last found him-
self a prisoner in the Fleet ; and presently, through the influence of
friends, was placed in the enjoyment of the Eules.

' Here, whether because he had exhausted the generosity of his
friends, or because he craved for action, or for the baser purposes of
gain, he became that most unworthy thing, a Fleet parson— one of
a most pestilent crew who go through the form of marriage for all
comers, and illegally bind together "for life those whom Heaven, in
mercy and knowledge, had designed to be kept asunder.

' I believe that, by his extraordinary ability and impudence, coupled

HOW MY LORD MADE HIS CONFESSION. 213

with the fact that he really was, what his rivals chiefly pretended
to be, a clergyman of the Established Church of England and Ireland,
he has managed to secure the principal part of this nefarious trade
to himself, and has become what he has named himself, "the Chaplain
of the Fleet."

' This person attracted to himself, little by little, a great gather-
ino- of followers, admirers, or friends. No one, I suppose, could be
the friend of one who had so fallen ; therefore the men who
thronged to his lodgings, nearly every night in the week, were drawn
thither by the fashion of running after a man who talked, sang, told
stories, and kept open house in so desperate a quarter as the Fleet
Market, and who yet had the manners of a gentleman, the learning
of a scholar, and the experience of a traveller.

' It was for this reason, solely for curiosity, that on one fatal
evening last year I entreated Sir Miles Lackington, a former friend
of my father's and myself, to present me to the Doctor. You have
made the acquaintance of Sir Miles. He was once, though perhaps
the fact has not been made known to you by him, also a prisoner of
the Eules. To this had he been brought by his inordinate love of
gambling, by which he had stripped himself, in six months, of as
fine an estate as ever fell to the lot of an English gentleman, and
brought himself to a debtor's prison. Sir Miles, who, when he
could no longer gamble, showed signs of possessing virtues hitherto
unsuspected in him, offered, on the occasion of borrowing a few
guineas of me, to conduct me, if I wished to spend an evening with
the Doctor, as he is called, to the house which this Doctor either
owns or frequents.

' I am not a lover of that low humour and those coarse scenes de-
picted by Mr. Fielding and Dr. Smollett. I do not delight in seeing
drunken men sprawl in the gutter, nor women fight upon Fleet
Bridge, nor bears baited, nor pickpockets and rogues pilloried or
flogged. But I was promised something very different from these
scenes. I was to meet, Sir Miles told me, a remarkable man, who
could narrate, declaim, preach, or sing a drinking song, just as he was
in the vein.

' I accepted the invitation, the strangeness of which affected my
curiosity rather than excited my hopes. I was to witness, I thought,
the spectacle of a degi-aded wretch who lived by breaking the law,
for each offence being liable to a penalty of not less than a hundred
pounds. It would be, I expected, such a sight as that which the
drunken Helot once presented to the virtuous Spartan youth.

' We made our way through a mean and filthy neighbourhood, by
the side of a market heaped with cabbage-stalks, past houses where,
through the common panes of green glass set in leaden frames, one
might see a rushlight or a tallow candle feebly glimmering, for a
crew of drunken men to shout songs and drink beside.

' The room into which I was led opened off the street, and was of
fair proportions, but low. In it was a table, at the head of which,

214 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

in a vast wooden chair, sat a man who looked, though perhaps he
was not, the biggest man I had ever seen. Some tall men have
small hands, or narrow shoulder?, or small heads ; Doctor Shovel is
great all over, with a large and red face, a silk cassock, a full and
flowing wig. clean bands, and a flowered morning-gown very large
and comfortable.

' He seemed struck with some astonishment on hearing my name,
but presently recovered, and invited me to sit at his right hand.
Sir Miles sat at his left. The room was pretty full, and we found
that the evening had already begun by the exhaustion of the first
bowl of punch. The guests consisted of gentlemen who came, like
myself, to see and converse with the famous Doctor : and of prisoners
who, like Sir Miles, were living in the Eules.

' As the punch went round, the talk grew more jovial. That is to
say, the talk of the Doctor, because no one else said anything. He
talked continuously ; he talked of everything. He seemed to know
everything, and to have been everywhere. When he was not talk-
ing he was singing. At intervals he smoked a pipe of tobacco, which
did not interrupt "his talk ; and he never ceased sending round the
punch. I found that the visitors were expected to provide this part
of the entertainment.

' I am sure that the kindest-hearted of women will believe me
when I tell her that I am no drunkard. Yet there are times when,
owing to the foolish custom of calling for toasts, no heeltaps, and a
brimming glass, the most careful head may be affected. Nor can I
plead inexperience in the dangers of the bottle, after three years at
St. John's, Cambridge, where the Fellows of the Society, and the
noblemen and gentlemen commoners on the Foundation, drank freely
at every college feast of the college port and the punch sent up from
the butteries. I had been like other young men, but I trust that
your imagination will not picture Lord Chudleigh carried away from
the combination-room and put to bed by a couple of the college gyps.
Yet, worse still, I have to present that spectacle before your eyes,
not at a grave and reverend college feast, but in the dissolute Liber-
ties of the Fleet.

' The atmosphere of the room was close and hot, with the smell
of the tobacco and the fumes of the punch-bowl. Presently I found
that my eyes were beginning to swim and my head to reel. I halt
rose to go, but the Doctor, laying his hand upon me, cried, with a
great oath, that we should not part yet.

' By this time Sir Miles was lying with his head on the table.
Some of the guests were lying on "the floor ; some were singing, some
crying ; some kissing each other. It was, in short, one of those
scenes of debauchery which may be witnessed whenever a partv of
men meet together to drink. I sat down ; it was plaiu that I could
not escape from these hogs without mvself becoming a hog. I sat
still, therefore, while the Doctor still talked, still laughed, still waved
his monstrous great hand in the air as he talked, and the punch still
went briskly round among the few who sat upright.

HOW MY LORD MADE HIS CONFESSION. 2if

' In the morning I was awakened by no other than my host of the.
preceding evening, in whose bed I had spent the rest of the night t
unconscious.

' He stood over me with grave face, and, in reproachful accents,
asked me how I fared, and for what purpose I had come to him ? I
was still half-drunk ; J could not remember for what purpose. He
assisted me to dress ; and then, because I could not stand, he gave
me a mug of small ale with which to clear my brain.

' Being thus partly restored to my senses, I listened while he
answered his own question, and told me why I had come to him.

' " You came," he said, " to be married."

' I stared. He repeated the words :

' " You came to be married."

' It seems incredible that a man should hear a statement so utterly
false and not cry out upon the liar. Yet I did not. My brain was
confused, that is my excuse. Also, this great man seemed to hold
me like a wizard, while he held up his forefinger and, with wrinkled
brow, shook it in my face.

' " You came to be married."

' Good heavens ! What did this mean 1 I was drunk, horribly
drunk the night before — I could not remember — so drunk was I —
how I came to the house, with whom, with what intent.

' " She waits below," he told me.

'She? Who?

' He gave me his arm to support me down the stairs. I descended,
curious and agitated. I remember a figure with a hood. While I
looked, this Chaplain of the Devil began the marriage service, his
eyes still fixed on me while he recited, and seemed to read.

' When he had finished, I was married.

' After we had signed a book, he gave me another great mug of
ale, which I drank to the bottom.

' Then, I suppose, I rolled over, and was carried upstairs, for I re-
member nothing more until the evening, when I was again awakened
by this rogue and common cheat, who, sitting by my bedside, con-
gratulated me calmly on the day's work.

' I will not go on to tell you all the things he said. I discovered
that in some way, I know not how, but can guess, my father had
once done this man an injury. This conspiracy was his revenge.

' Who was my wife ?

' He would not tell me.

' What was her position, her birth, her name ? Was she some
wretched creature who could be bought off to keep silence while she
lived, although she was a thing to be ashamed of and to hide ? Was
she some person who would trade on her title, parade her infamy,
and declare herself to the world as Lady Chudleigh by her lord's
marriage in the Fleet 1 A hundred things I asked. He gave me no
reply.

' Her name 1 I had forgotten it. The register ? it had been put

216 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

away. I seemed to know the name, somehow ; yet it escaped me
In the night it came back to me in a dream ; yet in the morning it
was gone again. Once, after my first evening with you, the name,
came to me once more in a dream ; yet it was gone when I awoke,
and could remember no other name than yours. It is nearly a year
ago. I know not yet whom I married. She hath made no sign. Yet
I know full well that the day will come when she will confess herself
and demand acknowledgment.

' One hope remains : that the marriage is not valid. It is a slender
hope, for the man is an ordained clergyman of the Established Church.
I am going to London to see him, to implore his pity, to humble my-
self if necessary.

* * # * *

' It is of no avail. I have gone. I have humbled myself, and then,
flying into the opposite extreme, I have cursed him. He enjoyed
both the wrath and the humility.

' I have no longer any hope ; I have taken the advice of my lawyers,
who tell me that an Act ox Parliament alone can set me free ; this
Act— how can it be got when I do not know the name of the
woman ?

' Even if there were any reasonable chance that so dreadful a place
could produce a woman of virtue and honour, which there is not, I
could never look upon that woman with any but feelings of loathing
aud horror. For not only is her idea black beyond compare, but my
heart is full, and will remain for ever full, of Kitty Pleydell.

' Strange to say, as I wrote the words, it seemed as if I had
touched at last the chord of memory. The name was on my lips.
No — it was an illusion ; I have forgotten it again, and can only mur-
mur Kitty Pleydell, sweet Kitty, divine Kitty, on whom may all the
blessings of Heaven rest for ever !'

CHAPTEE XV.

HO"W NANCY HAD A QUICK TONGUE.

This was at once a sad and yet most joyful confession. For whi.e
the girl who read it was full of shame and terror in thinking of his
righteous wrath and loathing, yet the tender love which filled the
pages and fired her soul with wonder and rejoicing forbade her to
believe that love was not stronger than wrath. She was so ignorant
and inexperienced, the girl who joined in this treacherous deed ; she
was so dominated by the will of that masterful man, her uncle ; she
was so taken by surprise — surely, when he learned these things, he
would forgive the past.

But should she tell him at once ?

It would be better to tell him than that he should find it out,

HOW NANCY HAD A QUICK TONGUE. 217

There were many ways in which he could find it out. Ob, the
shame of being found out, the meanness of taking all his secrets and
giving none ! Eoger, the Doctor's man, might for a bribe, were the
bribe heavy enough to outweigh his fear of the Doctor, tell the name
of the bride ; the Doctor might think the time come when he should
step forward and reveal the secret ; even there was danger that his
lordship might remember the name which he had seen but once, and
ask me sternly if there were upon the earth two Kitty Pleydells, of
the same age, the same height, and the same face. And what should
I say then ?

Stimulated by this thought, as by the touch of a sharp spur, I
procured an inkstand and paper, and began to write a letter of
confession.

'My Loed,'

What to say next ?

'My Loed,'

In what words to clothe a most shameful story ?

We cheat ourselves ; we do one thing and call it another ; we
stop the voice of conscience by misrepresenting our actions ; and
whereas we ought to be weighed down by the burden of our sins, we
carry ourselves confidently, with light hearts, as if we had done
nothing to be ashamed of. It is only when our crimes are set forth
in plain English that we know them for the shameful things they
are. What was I to tell my lord 1

A girl, brought up in the fear of God and His commandments,
can be so weak as to obey a man who ordered her to do a wicked
thing. Could she be, afterwards, so cowardly as not to tell the man
whom she had thus injured, even when she knew that he loved
her 1 A wicked crime and a course of deceit ! How could I frame
the words so as to disarm that righteous wrath 1

'My Lord,

' It has been for a long time upon my conscience to tell you a
thing which you ought to know before you waste one more thought
upon the unworthy person to whom you addressed a confession.
That confession, indeed, depicted your lordship with such fidelity as
to make me the more ashamed to unburden my conscience. Know,
then, that '

Here I stopped, with trembling fingers which refused to move.

' Know that' — what ? That I was his wicked and unworthy wife,
the creature whom most of all he must hate and despise.

I could not tell him — not then. No ; it must be told by word of
mouth, with such extenuating phrases and softening of details as
might preserj\fc themselves to my troubled mind.

1 tore the letter into a thousand fragments. Was girl ever so

218 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

bested ? That sacred bond of union which brings happy lovers
together, the crown of courtship, the end of wooing, the marriage
service itself, was the thing which kept us asunder.

I would tell him — later on. There would come an opportunity.
I would make the opportunity, somewhere, at some time. Yes ;
the best way would be to wait till we were alone : and it should
be in the evening, when my face and his would be partly veiled
by the night ; then I could whisper the story, and ask his forgive-
ness.

But that opportunity never came, as will be presently seen.

After morning prayers, that day, we walked upon the Terrace,
where the company were, as usual, assembled, and all talking to-
gether below the trees. I held in my hand the manuscript of my
iord's confession. Presently we saw him slowly advancing to meet
us, wearing a grave and melancholy look. But then he was never
one of those who think that the duties of life are to be met with
a reckless laugh.

' Even in laughter,' said the Wise Man, ' the heart is sorrowful :
and the end of that mirth is heaviness.'

' Dear Miss Pleydell,' whispered Peggy Baker, as he appeared,
' can his lordship have repented already of what he said beneath the
trees last night 1 The poor young gentleman wears a heavy coun-
tenance this morning.'

It was best to make no answer to this raillery. Let her say what
she would ; I cared nothing, and was too heavy myself to make
reply. I would neither help nor hinder. Then, leaving Mrs.
Esther with the party, I advanced boldly and met my lord, return-
ing him his manuscript before the eyes of all.

Everybody stared, wondering what could be the packet I placed
in his hands ; he, however, received it with a low bow, and accom-
panied me to my party, saying nothing for the moment.

The music was playing its loudest, and as we walked, my lord
beside me, and Mrs. Esther with Lady Levett— Nancy remaining
behind to exchange insinuations and pert speeches (in which the
saucy damsel took great delight) with Peggy Baker. I looked back
and saw their heads wagging, while the bystanders smiled, and
presently Peggy fanned herself, with agitation in her face, by which
it was easy to conclude that Nancy had said something more thau
usually biting, to which her opponent had, for the moment,, no
reply ready.

' You have read these papers V asked my lord, and that in as
careless a tone as if they contained nothing of importance.

' Yes,' I said, ' I have read the sad story. But I pity the poor
woman who was persuaded to do your lordship this grievous
wrong.'

' I think she needs and deserves little of our pity,' he replied.
' And as for persuasion, it could have wanted but little with a
woman so designing as to join in such a plot.'

HOW NANCY HAD A QUICK TONGUE. 219

A designing woman ! Poor Kitty !

Then I tried, beating about the bnsh, to bring his mind round to
see the possibility of a more charitable view.

'Remember, my lord, two things. This Doctor Shovel could not
have known of your comiDg. The plot, therefore, was swiftly con-
ceived, and as quickly carried into execution. You have told me in
your paper — I entreat you, my lord, burn it with all speed — that this
man's influence over you was so great as to coerce you (because your
brain was not in its natural clearness) into doing and suffering what,
at ordinary times, you would have rejected with scorn. Bethink
you, then, with charity, that this Doctor Shovel, this so-called
Chaplain of the Fleet, may have found some poor girl, over whom
he had authority, and in like manner coerced and forced her to join
with him in this most wicked plot.'

'You would make excuses,' he said, 'for the greatest of sinners.
I doubt not that. But this story is too improbable. I cannot think
that any woman could be so coerced against her will.'

I sighed.

' My lord, I beg you to remember your promise to me. You will
not leave Epsom without first telling me : you will not seek out
this man, this Doctor Shovel, or quarrel with him, or do aught to
increase his malice. Meantime, I am feeble, being only a woman,
and bound in obedience and duty to my guardian and protectress.
Yet I bethink me of an old fable. The lion was one day caught iu
the coils of a net, and released by the teeth of a '

He started.

' What does this mean ! Oh, Kitty ! what can you do V

' I do not know. Yet, perhaps I may be able to release you from
the coils of this net. Have patience, my lord.'

'Kitty!'

'Let us speak no more about it for the moment,' I replied.
I Perhaps, my lord, if my inquiries lead to the result you desire— it
is Christian to forgive your enemies '

' I cannot understand you,' he replied. 'How should you— how
should anyone— release me ? Truly, if deliverance came, forgiveness
were a small thing to give.'

CHAPTER XVI.

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE.

It was at this time that the company at Epsom held their masquerade,
the greatest assembly of the season, to which not only the visitors at
the Wells, but also the gentry from the country around, and many
from London, came ; so that the inns and lodging-houses over-
flowed, and some were fain to be content to find a bed over shops

22o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

and in the mean houses of the lower sort. Nay, there were even
many who put up tents on the Downs, and slept in them like
soldiers on a campaign.

At other times my head would have been full of the comin"
festivity, but the confession of my lord and the uncertainty into
which it threw my spirits, prevented my paying that attention to the
subject, which its importance demanded.

' Kitty,' cried Nancy, ' I have talked to you for half an hour, and
you have not heard one word. Oh, how a girl is spoiled the moment
she falls in love ! Don't start, my dear, nor blush, unless you like,
because there is no one here but ourselves. As for that, all the
place knows that you and Lord Chudleigh are in love with each
other, though Peggy Baker will have it that it is mostly on one side.
"My dear," she said at the book-shop yesterday, "the woman shows
her passion in a manner which makes a heart of sensibility blush for
her sex." Don't get angry, Kitty, because I was there, and set her
down as she deserved. " Dear me !" I said, " we have not all of us
the sensibility of Miss Peggy Baker, who, if all reports are true, has
had time to get over the passion she once exhibited for the handsome
Lord Chudleigh." Why, my dear, how can anyone help seeing that
the women are monstrous jealous, and my lord in so deep a quagmire
of love, that nothing but the marriage-ring (which cures the worst
cases) can pull him out V

I had, in verity, been thinking of my troubles, while Nancy was
thinking over her frocks. Now I roused myself and listened.

' My mother will go as the Queen of Sheba. She will wear a
train over her hoop, a paper crown, a sceptre, and have two black
boys to walk behind her. That will show who she is. I am to go
as Joan of Arc, with a sword in my hand, but not to wear it
dangling at my side, lest it cause me to fall down : Peggy Baker
will be Venus, the Goddess of Love. She will have a golden belt,
and a little Cupid is to follow her with bow and arrows, which he
is to shoot, or pretend to shoot, at the company. She will sprawl
and languish in her most bewitching manner, the dear creature ; but
since she has failed with Lord Eardesley there is nobody at Epsom
good enough for her. I hear she goes very shortly to Bath, where
no doubt she will catch a nabob. I hope his liver and temper will
be good. Oh ! and Mr. Stallabras will go as a Greek pastoral
poet, Theo, something — I forget his name — with a lyre in one hand
and a shepherd's crook in the other. Harry Temple is to go as
Vulcan : you will know him by his limp and by the hammer upon
his shoulder. Sir Miles wants to go as the God of Cards, but no one
seems to know who that Deity was. My father says he shall go as
a plain English country gentleman, because he sees so few among
the company that the sight may do them good.'

I was going as the Goddess of Night, because I wanted to have
an excuse for wearing a domino all the evening, most of the ladies
throwing them aside early in the night. My dress was a long black

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE. 221

velvet hood, covering me from head to foot, without hoops, and my
hair dressed low, so that the hood could cover the head and be even
pulled down over the face. At first I wanted my lord to find out
by himself the incognita who had resolved to address him ; but he
asked me to tell him beforehand, and to be sure I could refuse him
nothing.

The splendour of the lights was even greater than that at Lord
Chudleigh's entertainment, when he lit up the lawn among the
trees with coloured oil lamps. Yet the scene lacked the awful
contrast of the dark and gloomy wood behind, in which, as one
retired to talk, the music seemed out of place, and the laughter of
the gay throng impertinent. Here was there no dark wood or
shade of venerable trees to distract the thoughts from the gaiety of
the moment, or sadden by a contrast of the long-lived forest with
the transitory crowd who' danced beneath the branches, as careless
as a cloud of midges on the river-bank, born to buzz away their little
hour, know hope, fear, and love, feel pain, be cut off prematurely at
their twentieth minute, or wear on to a green old age and die at the
protracted term of sixty minutes.

The Terrace and the New Parade were hungwithfestoonsof coloured
lamps. There must have been thousands of them in graceful arches
from branch to branch : the doors of the Assembly Eooms had columns
and arches of coloured lamps set up beside and over them : there were
porches of coloured lamps ; atempleof coloured lam psbesidethewatch-
house at the edgeof the pond, where hornswere stationed to play while
the music rested : in the Eooms was, of course, to be dancing : and,
which was the greatest attraction, there were amusements of various
kinds, almost as if one was at a country fair, without the crowding
of the rustics, the fighting with quarterstaves, the grinning through
horse-collars, the climbing of greasy poles, and the shouting. I have
always, since that evening, longed for the impossible, namely, a
country fair without the country people. Why can we not have, all
to ourselves, and away from a noisy mob of ill-bred and rough people,
the amusements of the fair, the stalls with the gingerbread, .Richard-
son's Theatre, with a piece addressed to eyes and ears of sensibility,
a wax-work, dancing and riding people, and clowns ?

Here the presenters of the masquerade had not, it is true, provided
all these amusements ; but there were some : an Italian came to ex-
hibit dancing puppets, called fantoccini ; a conjurer promised to per-
form tricks, and swallow red hot coals, which is truly a most
wonderful feat, and makes one believe in the power of magic, else
how could the tender throat sustain the violence of the fire 'I a girl
was to dance upon the tight-rope : and a sorcerer or magician or
astrologer was to be seated in a grotto to tell the fortunes of all
who chose to search into the future.

Nothing could be gayer or more beautiful than the assemblage
gathered together beneath these lighted lamps or in the Assembly
Kooms in the evening. Mrs. Esther was the only lady without

223 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

some disguise ; Sir Robert, whose dress has been already sufficiently
indicated, gave her his arm for the evening. All the dresses were
as Nancy told me. I knew Venus by her golden cestus and her
Cupid armed (he was, indeed, the milk-boy) ; and beueath the domino
I could guess, without having been told, that no other than Pejrgy
Baker swam and languished. Surely it is great presumption for a
woman to call herself the Goddess of Beauty. Harry Temple was
fine as Vulcan, though he generally forgot to go lame : he bore a
real blacksmith's hammer on his shoulder ; but I am certain that
Vulcan never wore so modish a wig with so gallant a tie behind.
And his scowls, meant for me, were not out of keeping with his
character. Nancy Levett was the sweetest Joan of Arc ever seen,
and skipped about to the admiration of everybody with a cuirass and
a sword, although the real Joan, who was, I believe, a village maid,
probably wore a stuff frock instead of Nancy's silk, and I dare say
hoops were not in fashion in her days. Nor would she have lace
mittens or silk shoes, but bare hands and wooden sandals. Nor
would she powder her hair and dress it up two feet high, but rather
wear it plain, blown about by the winds, washed by the rain, and
curling as nature pleased. As for Mr. Stallabras, it did one good to
see him as Theocritus, nose in air, shepherd's crook on shoulder, lyre
in hand, in a splendid purple coat and wig newly combed and tied
behind, illustrating the dignity and grandeur of genius. The Queen
of Sheba's black pages (they were a loan from a lady in London) at-
tracted general attention. You knew her for a queen by her crown.
There were, however, other queens, all of whom wore crowns ; and
it was difficult sometimes to know which queen was designed if you
failed to notice the symbol which distinguished one from the other.
Thus Queen Elizabeth of England, who bore on a little flag the motto
' Duxfceminafacti,' was greatly indignant when Harry Temple mis-
took her for Cleopatra, whose asp was for the moment hidden. Yet
so good a scholar ought to have known, because Cleopatra ran away
at Actium, and therefore could not carry such a motto, while Eliza-
beth conquered in the Channel. Then it was hard at first sight to
distinguish between Julius Caesar, Hannibal, Timour the Tartar,
Luther, Alfred, and Caractacus, because they were all dressed very
much alike, save that Luther carried a book, Alfred a sceptre, Caesar
a short sword, Timour a pike, Hannibal a marshal's baton, and
Caractacus a bludgeon. The difficulties and mistakes, however,
mattered little, because, when the first excitement of guessing a
character was over, one forgot about the masquerade and remembered
the ball. Yet it was vexatious when a man had dressed carefully
for, say, Charles the First, to be mistaken for Don Quixote or Euri-
pides, who wore the same wigs.

I say nothing of the grotesque dresses with masks and artificii)'
heads, introduced by some of the young Templars. They amused
as such things do, for a while, and until one became accustomed ta
them. Then their pranks ceased to amuse. It is a power peculiar to

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE. 223

man that he can continue to laugh at horse-play, buffoonery, and low
humour for hours, while a woman is content to laugh for five
minutes, if she laughs at all. I believe that the admirers of those
coarse and unfeeling books, ' Tom Jones ' and ' Humphrey Clinker,'
are entirely men.

All the ladies began by wearing masks, and a few of the men.
One of them personated a shepherd in lamentation for the loss of
his mistress ; that is to say, he wore ribbons of black and crimson
tied in bows about his sleeve, and carried a pastoral hook decorated
with the same colours. In this character some of the company easily
recognised Lord Chudleigh ; and when he led out for the first minuet
a tall, hooded figure, in black velvet, some thought they recognised
Kitty Pleydell.

' But why is he in mourning?' asked Peggy Baker, who understood
what was meant. ' She cannot have denied him. He must have
another mistress for whom he has put on the black ribbons. Poor
Kitty ! we are all of us sorry for her. Yet pride still goes before a
fall.'

No one knew what was meant except Lord Chudleigh's partner,
the figure in black velvet.

' I suppose,' continued Peggy, alluding to the absence of my
hoops, ' that she wants to show how a woman would look without
the aid of art. I call it, for my part, odious !'

After the minuet we left the dancers and walked beneath the
lighted lamps on the Terrace. Presently the music ceased for a
while, and the horns outside began to play.

' Kitty,' whispered my lord, ' you used strange words the other
night. Were they anything but a kind hope for the impossible >
Could they mean anything beyond an attempt to console a despair-
ing man f

' No,' I replied. ' They were more than a hope. But aa yet I
cannot say more. Oh, my lord ! let me enjoy a brief hour of happi-
ness, if it should die away and come to nothing.'

I have said that part of the entertainment was a magician's cave.
We found ourselves opposite the entrance of this place. People
were going in and coming out— or, more correctly, people were
waiting outside for their turn to go in; and those who came out
appeared either elated beyond measure with the prophecies they
had heard, or depressed beyond measure. Some of the girls had
tears in their eyes— they were those to whom he had denied a lover ;
some came out bounding and leaping with joy— they were the
maidens to whom he had promised a husband and chilJren dear.
Some of the young men came out with head erect and smiling lips :
I suppose the wizard had told them of fortune, honour, long life,
health and love— things which every young man must greatly desire.
Some came out with angry frowns and lips set sternly, as if resolved
to meet adverse fortune with undaunted courage— which is, of
course, the only true method. But I fear the evening's happiness

224 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

was destroyed for these luckless swains and nymphs : the lamps
would grow dim, the music lose its gladness, the wine its sparkle.

' Let us, my lord/ I said, little thinking of what was to happen
within the cave — ' Let us, too, consult the oracle, and learn the
future.'

At first he refused, saying, gravely, that to inquire of wise men or
wise women was the sin of Saul with the witch of Endor ; that
whatever might have happened in olden time, as in the case of the
Delphic oracles or the High Places, where they came to inquire of
Baal or Moloch, there was now no voice from the outer world nor
any communication from the stars, or from good spirits or from
evil.

' Therefore,' he said, ' we waste our time, sweet Kitty, in idly
asking questions of this man, who knows no more than we know
ourselves.'

' Then,' I asked, ' let us go in curiosity, because I have never seen
a wizard, and I know not what he is like. You, I am sure, will
keep me safe from harm, whatever frightful creature he may be.

So without thinking I led the way to the Wizard's Cave.

It stood in the Parade, beneath the trees ; at the door were
assembled a crowd of the masqueraders, either waiting their turn or
discussing the reply of the oracle ; the entrance, before which was a
heavy curtain, double, was guarded by a negro, armed with au im-
mense cutlass, which he ever and anon whirled round his head, the
light falling on the bright steel, so that it seemed like a ring of fire,
behind which gleamed his two eyes, as bright as a panther's eyes,
and his teetb, as white as polished ivory. The sight of him made
some of the women retreat, and refuse to go in at all.

The wise man received only one couple at a time : but when the
pair then with him emerged, the negro stepped forward and beckoned
to U3, though it was not our turn to enter the cave. I observed that
the last i?air came out with downcast eyes. I think I am as free
from superstition as any woman, yet I needs must remark, in spite
of my lord's disbelief in magic or astrology, that the unhappy young
man whose fortune this wizard told (an evil fortune, as was apparent
from his face) ran away with the girl who was with him (an honest city
merchant's daughter), and having got through his whole stock, took
to the road, and was presently caught, fried, sentenced, and hanged
in chains on Bagshot Heath, where those who please may go and
see him. With such examples before one it is hard not to believe
in the conjurer and the wise woman, just as a thousand instances
might be alleged from any woman's experience to pro^e that it is
unlucky to spill salt (without throwing some over your left shoulder),
or to dream of crying children, or to cross two knives upon a plate
— with many other things which are better not learned, would cue
frish to live a tranquil life.

What they called the Wizard's Cave was a little building con-
structed specially for the occasion, of rude trunks of trees, laid one

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE. 225

upon the other, the interstices filled up with moss, to imitate a.
hermitage or monkish cell ; a gloomy abode, consecrated to super-
stition and horrid rites. The roof seemed to be made of thatch, but
I think that was only an illusion produced by the red light of an
oil-lamp, which hung in the middle, and gave a soft and flickering,
yet lurid light, around the hut. There also hung up beside the
lamp, and on the right hand, the skin of a grisly crocodile, stuffed,
the sight of which filled me with a dreadful apprehension, and made
me, ever after, reflect on the signal advantages possessed by those
who dwell in a land where such monsters are unknown. A table
stood in the middle, on which, to my horror, were three grinning
skulls in a row ; and in each they had placed a lamp of different
colours, so that through the eye-holes of one there came a green, of
another a red, and of the third a blue light, very horrible and dia-
bolical to behold.

There was also a great book— doubtless the book of Fate — upon
the table. Behind it sat the Sage himself. He was a man with a
big head covered with grey hair, which hung down upon his
shoulders long and unkempt, and with a tall mitre, which had mys-
terious characters engraved over it, and between the letters what
seemed in the dim light to be flames and devils — the fit occupant of
this abominable place. He wore spectacles and a great Turkish
beard, frightful and Saracenic of aspect.

I thought of the witch of Endor, of those who practised divina-
tions, and of the idolatrous practices on High Places and in groves,
and I trembled lest the fate of the Prophets of Baal might also be
that of the profane inquirers. Outside, the music played and the
couples were dancing.

The Wizard looked up as we stood before him. Behind the blue
spectacles and the great beard, even in the enormous head, I recog-
nised nothing and suspected nothing ; but when he spoke, and in
deep sonorous tones called my companion by his name :

' Lord Chudleigh, what wilt thou inquire of the oracle V

Then indeed I turned giddy and faint, and should have fallen,
but my lord caught me by the waist.

' Be soothed, Kitty,' he whispered. ' Here is nothing to fright us
but the mummery of a foolish masquerade or the roguery of a rascal
quack. Calm yourself.'

Alas ! I feared no more the crocodile, nor the horrid death's heads,
nor the Turkish beard, nor the mitre painted with devils — if they
were devils. They disquieted me at first sight, it is true : but now
was I in deadly terror, for I knew and feared the voice. It was no
other than the voice of the Doctor, the Chaplain of the Fleet. For
what trouble, what mischief, was he here ?

Then I recovered, saying to myself : ' Kitty, be firm. Resolve by
neither act nor word to do harm to thy lover. Consent not to any
snare. Be resolute and alert.'

15

226 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Lord Chudleigh, seeing me thus composed, stepped forward to the
table and said :

' Sir Magician, Wizard, Conjurer, or whatever name best befits
you, for you and your pretended science I care not ODe jot, nor do 1
believe but that it is imposture and falsehood. Perhaps, however,
you are but acting a part in the masquerade. But the young lady
hath a desire to see what you do, and to ask you a question or ,wo.'

' Your lordship must own that I know your name, in spite of your
domino.'

' Tut, tut ! everybody here knows my name, whether I wear a
domino or take it off. That is nothing. You are probably one o£
the company in disguise.'

' You doubt my power ? Then, without your leave, my lord,
permit me to tell you a secret known to me, yourself, and one or
two others only. It is a secret which no one has yet whispered
about ; none of the company at the Wells know it ; it is a great
secret : an important secret ' — all this time his voice kept growing
deeper and deeper. ' It is a secret of the darkest. Stay— this
young lady, I think, knows it.'

Tor Heaven's sake ' I cried, but was interrupted by my

lord.

' Tell me your secret,' he said calmly. ' Let us know this wonder-
ful secret.'

The Doctor leaned forward over the table and whispered in his
ear a few words. Lord Chudleigh started back and gazed at him
with dismay.

' So !' he cried ; ' it is already becoming town talk, is it?'

The Magician shook his head.

' Not so, my lord. No one knows it yet except the persons con-
cerned in it. No one will ever know it if your lordship so pleases.
I told you but to show the power of the Black Art.'

'I wonder, then, how you know.'

' The Wizard, by his Art, learns as much of the past as he desires
to know ; he reads the present around him, still by aid of this great
Art ; he can foretell the future, not by the gift of prophecy, but by
studying the stars.'

'Tell me, then,' said Lord Chudleigh, as if in desperation, 'the
future. Yet this is idle folly and imposture.'

' That which is done ' — the Sage opened the book and turned over
the pages, speaking in low, deep tones — ' cannot be undone, what-
ever your lordship might ignorantly wish. That which is loved
may still be loved. That which is hoped may yet come to pass.'

' Is that all you have to say to me V

'Is it not enough, my lord i Would any king's counsel or learned
Rerjeant give you greater comfort ? Good-night. Leave, now, this
young lady with me, alone.'

' First read me the oracle of her future, as you have told me mine;
though still, I say, this is folly and imposture.'

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE. 227

The Magician gravely turned over his pages, without resenting
this imputation, and read, or seemed to read :

' Love shall arise from ashes of buried scorn :
Joy from a hate in a summer morning born :
When heart with heart and pulse with pulse shall beat,
Farewell to the pain of the storm and the fear of the Fleet.'

' Good heavens !' cried Lord Chudleigh, pressing his hand to his
forehead. ' Am I dreaming ? Are we mad V

'Now, my lord,' said the pretended wizard, 'go to the door;
leave this young lady with me. I have more to tell her for her own
ears. She is quite safe. She is not the least afraid. At the smallest
fright she will cry aloud for your help. You will remain without
the door, within earshot.'

' Yes,' I murmured, terrified, yet resolute. ' Leave me a few
moments alone. Let me hear what he has to say to me.'

Then my lord left me alone with the Doctor.

When the heavy curtain fell before the door, the Wizard took
off the great mitre and laughed silently and long, though I felt no
cause for merriment.

' Confess, child,' he said, ' that I am an oracle of Dodona, a sacred
oak. Lord Chudleigh is well and properly deceived. But we have
little time for speech. I came here, Kitty, to see you, and no one
else. By special messengers and information gained from letters, I
learned, as I wrote to you (to my great joy), that this young lord
is deeply enamoured. You are already, it is true, in some sort —
nay, in reality, his bride, though he knows it not. Yet I might
waive my own dignity in the matter, for the sake of thy happiness ;
and, if you like to wed him, why, nothing is easier than to let him
know that his Fleet wife is dead. They die of drink daily. B,oger,
my man, will swear what I tell him to swear. This I have the less
compunction in persuading him to do, because, in consequence of
his horrid thieving, robbing, fighting, and blaspheming, his soul is
already irretrievably lost, his conscience seared with a hot iron, and
his heart impenitent as the nether millstone. Also the evidence of
the marriage, the register, is in my hands, and may be kept or de-
stroyed, as I please. Therefore it matters nothing what this rogue
may swear. I think, child, the best thing would be to accept my
Lord's proposals ; to let him know, through me, that his former
wife, whose name he knows not, is dead ; he may be told, so that
he may remain ashamed of himself, and anxious to bury the thing
in silence, that she died of gin. He would then be free to marry
you ; and, should he not redeem his promise and give you honour-
able marriage, it will be time to reduce him to submissien — with
the register.'

Shall I confess that, at the first blush, this proposal was welcome
to me 1 It seemed so easy a relief from all our troubles. The sup-

15-2

228 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

posed death of his wife, the destruction of the register— what could
be better ?

'Be under no fear,' continued the Doctor, 'of my fellow Roger.
He dares not speak. By Heaven ! I have plenty to hang him with
a dozen times over, if I wished. He would murder me, if he dared,
and would carry me up to Holborn Bridge, where I could he safely
dropped into the Fleet Ditch ; but he dares not try. Why, if he
proclaimed this marriage on Fleet Bridge (but that he dares not do),
no one would believe it on his word, such a reputation has he, while I
have the register safely locked up. Whereas, did they come forward
to give evidence for me, at my bidding, so clear is my case, and so
abundant my proofs, that no counsel could shake them.'

This speech afforded me a little space -wherein to collect my
thoughts. Love makes a woman strong. Time was when I should
have trembled before the Doctor's eyes, and obeyed him iu the least
particular. But now I had to consider another beside noyself.

What I thought was this. Suppose the plot carried out, and myself
married to my lord again. There would be this dreadful story on
my mind. I should not dare to own my relationship with this
famous Doctor ; I should be afraid lest my husband should find it
out. I should be afraid of his getting on the scent, as children say ;
therefore I should be obliged to hide all that part of my life which
was spent in the Fleet. Yet there were many persons — Mrs. Esther,
Sir Miles, Solomon Stallabras, beside my uncle — who knew all of it,
except that one story. Why, any day, any moment, a chance word,
an idle recollection, might make my husband suspicious and jealous.
Then farewell to all my happiness ! Better none at all than to have
it snatched from me in that way.

' There is a second plan,' he went on. ' We may tell him exactly
who and what you are.'

'Oh, sir !' I cried, 'do nothing yet. Leave it all with me for a
little— I beg, I implore you ! I love him, and he loves me. Should
I harm him, therefore, by deceiving him and marrying him, while
I hid the shameful story of the past 1 You cannot ask me to do
that. I will not do it. And should you, against my will, acquaint
him with what has happened, I swear that, out of the love I hear
him, I will refuse and deny all your allegations — yea, the very fact
itself, with the register and the evidence of those two rogues. Sir,
which would the court believe ? the daughter of the Kev. Lawrence
Pleydell, or the rascal runner of a — of yourself V

He said nothing. He looked surprised.

4 No,' I went on ; ' I will have no more deception. Every day I
suffer remorse from my sin. There shall be no more. My mind, sir,
is made up. I will confess to him everything. Not to-night ; I
cannot, to-night. And then, if he sends me away with hatred, I
will never — never— stand in his way ; I will be as one dead.'

' This,' said the Doctor, ' it is to be young and to be in love. I
was once like that myself. Go, child ; thou shalt hear from me again.'

HOW SPED THE MASQUERADE. 229

He put on his mitre and beckoned me to the door. I went out
without another word. Without stood a crowd, including Peggy
Baker.

' Oh !' she cried. ' She looks frightened, yet exulting. Dear Miss
Pleydell, I hope he prophesied great things for you ! A title
perhaps, an estate in the country, a young and handsome lover, as
generous as he is constant. But we know the course of true love
never '

Here my lord took my hand and led me away from the throng
Another pair went in, and the great negro before the door began
again to flash his cutlass in the lights, to show his white teeth, and
to turn those white eyes about which looked so fierce and terrible.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW KITTY PEEVENTED A DUEL.

The agitation of spirits into which I was thrown by this interview
with the Doctor, blinded me for the moment to the fact that Harry
Temple, of whose pretensions I thought I had disposed, was still
an angry and rejected suitor. Indeed, for a few days he had
ceased to persecute me. But to-night he manifested a jealousy
which was inexcusable, after all I had said to him. No one, as
I had gone so far as almost to explain to him, had a better right to
give me his hand for the evening than my lord ; yet this young
man, as jealous as the blacksmith god whom he personated, must
needs cross our steps at every turn, throwing angry glances both
upon me and my partner. He danced with no one ; he threw away
his hammer, left off limping, consorted with none of the gay com-
pany, but nursed his wrath in silence.

Now the last dance of the evening, which, took place at two
o'clock in the morning, was to be one in which all the ladies threw
their fans upon the table, and the gentlemen danced each with
her whose fan he picked from the pile. My lord whispered to me
that I was first to let him see my fan, whereupon, when the fans
lay upon the table, he deliberately chose my own and brought it
to me.

I took off my domino, which was now useless, because all the
company knew the disguise. Everybody laughed, and we took our
places to lead off the country-dance.

It was three o cock when we finished dancing and prepared to
go home.

Harry Temple here came up to me and asked if lie might have
the honour of escorting me to my lodgings. I answered that I had
already promised that favour to Lord Chudleigh.

'Every dance, the whole evening: the supper, the promenade:

230 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

all given to this happy gentleman ! Surely, Kitty, the Queen of
the Wells might dispense her favours more generously.'

' The Queen,' said Lord Chudleigh, ' is the fountain of honour.
We have only to accept and be grateful.'

I laughed and bade Harry good-night, and offered him my hand,
which he refused sullenly ; and murmuring something about pride
and old friends, turned aside and let us go.

Everybody, it seems, noticed the black looks of Harry Temple
all the evening, and expected, though in my happiness I thought
not of such a thing, that high words would pass between this sulky
young gentleman'and his favoured rival, to whom he was so rude
and unmannerly. JSW, by the laws of the Wells, as laid down
strictly in the rules of the great Mr. Nash for Tunbridge Wells
and Bath, and adopted at all watering-places, the gentlemen wore
no swords on the Parade and in the card-rooms ; yet it was impos-
sible to prevent altogether the quarrels of hot-blooded men, and
the green grass of the Downs had been stained with the blood of
more than one poor fellow, run through as the consequence of a
foolish brawl. When will men cease to fight duels, and seek to
kill each other for a trifling disagreement, or a quarrel?

Generally, it takes two to make a quarrel, and few men are so
perverse as deliberately to force a duel upon another against his
will. Yet this was what Harry Temple, my old schoolfellow, my
old friend, of whom I once held so high an opinion, so great a
respect, actually did with Lord Chudleigh. He forced the quarrel
upon him. My lord was always a gentleman of singular patience,
forbearance, and sweetness, and one who would take, unprovoked,
a great deal of provocation, never showing the usual sign of resent-
ment or anger, although he might be forced to take up the quarrel.
He held, indeed, the maxim that a man should always think so
well of himself as to make an insult impossible, unless it be delibe-
rate, open, and clearly intended. As for his courage, he went on
to say that it was a matter of self-respect : if a man's own con-
science approve (which is the ultimate judge for all but those whose
consciences are deadened by an evil life), let him fear not what men
say, knowing full well that if they dare say more than the customs
of the polite world allow, it is easy for every man to prove that he
is no coward.

Lord Chudleigh, then, having led us to the door of our own
lodging, unfortunately returned to the Assembly Rooms, where—-
and outside upon the Terrace — some of the gentlemen yet lingered.
I say unfortunately, because, as for what followed, I cannot believe
but "that poor Harry, whose disposition was not naturally quarrel-
some, might have been inflamed by drinking wine with them when
he ought to have gone to bed. Now wine, to one who is jealous,
is like oil upon fire. And had my lord, for his part, retired to
Durdans — as he might very properly have done, seeing the lateness
of the hour — the morning's reflection would, I am sure, have per-

HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL. 231

suaded Harry that lie had been a fool, and had no reasonable
ground for quarrel with his lordship or with me.

The sun was already rising, for it was nearly four o'clock in the
morning ; the ladies were all gone off to bed ; those who lay about
the benches yawned and stretched themselves ; some were for bed,
some for another bottle ; some were talking of an early gallop on
the Downs ; the lamps yet glimmered in their sockets ; the Terrace
looked, with its oil lamps still burning in the brightness of the
morning sunshine, with the odds and ends of finery, the tattered
bravery of torn dresses, gold and silver lace, tinfoil, broken paper
crowns and helmets, as sad as a theatre the morning after a per-
formance ; the stalls of the Wizard, the Italian performers, and
the dancing girl, were empty and open; their hangings were
already torn down, the stand for the horses beside the pond was
broken in parts.

When Lord Chudleigh came back he found waiting for him, among
the latest of the revellers, Harry Temple, his face pale, his lips
Eet, his manner agitated, as of one who contemplates a rash act.

My lord threw himself upon a bench under the trees, his head
upon his hand, pensive, thinking to calm the agitation of his spirits
by the freshness of the morning air. Harry began walking up and
down in front of him, casting angry glances at him, but as yet
speaking not. Now, within the deserted card-room when the lights
had all burned out, and the windows were wide open, sat all by
himself Sir Miles Lackington, turning over a pack of cards at one
of the empty tables, and thinking over the last night's play, at
which he had won some money, and regretted to have been stopped
just when he was in luck. There were now only a few gentlemen
left, and these were one by one dropping off.

Presently, with an effort, Harry Temple stopped in front of his
lordship and spoke to him.

I declare that up to this time poor Harry had always been the
most peaceful of creatures, though strong, and well accustomed to
hold bouts with Will, in which he proved almost equal to that
stalwart competitor, at wrestling, singlestick, quarterstalf, or box-
ing. Also, as was proved by the affray of the Saturday evening,
already related, not unready on occasion. But a bookish youth,
and not one who sought to fix quarrels upon any man, or to com-
mit murder in the name of honour. And this shows how dangerous
a passion is thwarted love, which can produce in a peaceful man's
bosom jealousy, hatred, rage, and forgetfulness of that most sacred
commandment which enjoins us not to slay.

' I trust, my lord,' he said, laughing and blushing, as if uncertain
of himself, 'that your lordship hath passed a pleasant evening with
the Queen of the Wells.'

Lord Chudleigh looked up, surprised. Then he rose, for there
was a look in Harry's eyes which meant mischief. The unlucky
love-sick swain went on :

232 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

'Lord Chudleigh and Miss Kitty Pleydell. The very names
seem made for one another ; no doubt his lordship is as fine a
gentleman as the lady is beautiful.'

'Sir!' said Lord Chudleigh, quietly, 'you have perhaps been
drinking. This is the only excuse for such an association of my
name with that young lady's in a public assembly.'

' Oh !' he said, ' I want no excuse for addressing your lord-
ship. The Temples were gentlefolk before the Chudleighs were
heard of.'

' Well, Mr. Temple, so be it. Enjoy that superiority. Shall we
close this discussion f '

' No, my lord ; there is more to be said.'

He spoke hotly, and with an anger which ought surely to have
been simulated, such small provocation as he had received.

' Then, sir, in Heaven's name let us say it and have done
with it.'

' You have offended me, my lord — you best know how.'

' I believe I know, Mr. Temple. You also know what grounds
you have for believing that to be an offence.'

' I say, my lord,' his voice rose and his eyes flashed, 'that you
have offended me.'

' Had I done so wittingly,' returned Lord Chudleigh, ' I should
willingly ask pardon. But I deny your right to take offence.'

'You have offended me highly,' he repeated, 'and that in a
manner which makes an apology only a deeper insult. You have
offended me in a manner which only one thing can satisfy.'

' Before we go any farther, Mr. Temple,' said my lord, sitting
down again calmly and without heat, ' I would know exactly the
nature of my offence, and your reasonable right to regard it as
such.'

' It needs not, my lord. You know well enough what I mean.'
_ ' I know that, of course. I would wish to know, as well, your
right to be offended.'

' I say, my lord, that it is enough.'

Harry, being in the wrong, spoke still more loudly, and those
who were left drew near to see the quarrel.

'You need not raise your voice, sir,' said Lord Chudleigh; 'I
like any altercation in which I may be unhappily engaged to be
conducted like the rest of my business in life, namely, with the
decorum and quietness which become gentlemen like the Temples,
and those of that younger family the Chudleighs. You have, I
believe, travelled. You have therefore, without doubt, had oppor-
tunities of observing the well-bred and charming quietness with
which gentlemen in Prance arrange these little matters, particu-
larly when, as now, the dispute threatens to involve the name of
a lady. Now, sir, that we understand each other, I must inform
you that unless I know the exact nature of my offence to you,
which I have the right to demand, this affair will proceed no

HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL. 233

farther. I would as soon accept a quarrel from a mad Malay
running amuck at all lie meets.'

' My lord !' cried Harry, with red face and trembling fingers.

'Of course 1 do not pretend to be unable to form a guess,' Lord
Chudleigh went on gravely ; ' but I must beg you to instruct me
exactly what you mean. You will observe, sir, that I am here, as
a visitor, previously unknown to yourself. It is therefore strange
to- learn that one has offended a gentleman towards whom my
behaviour has been neither less nor more guarded than towards
others.'

' My lord, you have offended me by the attentions you have paid
to a young lady.'

' Indeed, sir ! So I believed. But permit me to ask if the young
lady is connected with you or with your house by auy ties of re-
lationship or otherwise r"

' She is not, my lord.'

' Further : have you any right of guardianship over this young
lady ?'

' None, my lord. But yet you have offended me.'

' The young lady is free to accept the attention of any man she
may prefer ; to show her preference as openly as she considers
proper. I conclude this to be the case. And. if so, I am uuable
to perceive in what way I can wilfully have offended 3 ou.'

' Your lordship,' said Harry Temple, enraged by his adversary's
calmness, but yet with sufficient self-command to speak in lower
tones, 'has offended me in this: that if you had not paid thoso
attentions to Miss Pleydell, she might have accepted those cour-
tesies which I was prepared to offer her.'

' Indeed, sir ! that is a circumstance with which I am wholly
unconcerned. No doubt the same thing might be said by other
gentlemen in this company.'

' I knew that young lady, my lord, long before you did. It was
my deliberate purpose, long ago, to make her my wife when tho
opportunity arrived '

' The time has come,' resumed Lord Chudleigh, ' but not the
man '

' I say, it was my fixed intention to marry Miss Pleydell. I
did not, my lord, form these resolutions lightly, nor abandon them
without sufficient reason. It is still my resolution. I say that
you shall not stand between me and my future wife !'

' Indeed ! But suppose Miss Pleydell refuses to sive her con-
sent to this arrangement? Surely such a resolve, however laudable,
demands the consent of the other party.'

'Miss Pleydell will not refuse my hand when you have left
her. Abandon a field, my lord, which never belonged to your-
self '

' Tut, tut !' said Lord Chudleigh. ' This, sir, is idle talk. Yqu
cannot seriously imagine^— — '

234 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' I seriously imagine that, if necessary, I will make my way
to that young lady over your lordship's tody, if you stand in my
way.'

Lord Chudleigh took off his hat and bowed low.

' Then, sir, the sooner you take the first step in the pursuance
of your resolution the better. I will bar your way upon the Downs
at any time you may appoint.'

Harry returned the obeisance.

' 1 wait your lordship's convenience,' he said.

' My convenience shall be yours, Mr. Temple. For it is you
who desire to run me through, not I you. Have your own way.'

' It is late to-night/ said Harry, now quite calm, though with a
hot flush upon his cheek. ' Your lordship would like to rest.
Perhaps to-morrow, after breakfast, while the ladies are at morn-
ing prayer.'

Oh, the bloodthirsty wretch !

Lord Chudleigh bowed again.

' That time, Mr. Temple/ will I dare say suit the convenience of
my second.'

The code of honour, be it observed, does not allow the exhibi-
tion of any emotion of horror, remorse, or repugnance, when
you arrange to commit that private murder which gentlemen call a
duel.

Lord Chudleigh bowed once more, and left his adversary. He
walked across the Terrace to the card-room, where Sir Miles was
alone with the scattered packs of cards. When he came out, he
bowed a third time, and walked slowly away. I hope that, in his
own chamber, he reflected on the wickedness of the appointment
he had made, and on its possible consequences.

Sir Miles threw away the cards, and came out rubbing his eyes.

' Ods my life, sir !' be said, addressing Harry Temple, who, now
that the mischief was done, looked somewhat sheepish, though
dignified.

The few gentlemen who were left drew nearer, anxious to lose
nothing of what might happen. English people of all ranks love
above all things to watch a quarrel or a fight, whatever be the
weapons.

' Ods my life, sir !' repeated Sir Miles. ' This is a pretty kettle
of fish ! Here we have all spent a pleasant night — dancing, play-
ing, and making love, everyone happy, even though some gentle-
men did lose their mistresses or their money, and here you spoil
sport by quarrelling at the end of it. "What the Devil, sir, does it
concern you whether my lord talks gallantry with one young lady
or another ?'

' That, Sir Miles, allow me to tell you, is my business. If you
are his lordship's second, let us arrange accordingly. If a principal,
let us fight afterwards.'

' No, sir,' replied the baronet. ' It is everybody's business. It

HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL. 235

concerns the cheerfulness, the security, the happiness of all this
honourable company. What! if I amuse myself, and a young
lady too, by writing poems on her dainty ringers, must I needs go
out and measure swords with every young hot-head who would
fain be doing the same? Seconds and principals ? Have we
nothing to do but to fight duels P Mr. Temple, I thought better
things from a gentleman of your rank and family. "What! any
jackanapes lawyer— any pert young haberdasher — might think it
fine thus to insult and challenge a harmless nobleman of great
name and excellent qualities! Hut for yon, T\Ir. Temple! you,
sir, a gentleman of your county, and of ancient and most honour-
able stock Fie, sir, fie !'

' I think, Sir Miles,' said Harry, ' who wished now to have the
preliminaries settled without more ado, 'that things having so
far advanced, these reproaches may be spared. Let us proceed to
business.'

'A girl can choose, I suppose,' Sir Miles went on, ' without the
interference or the objection of a man who is neither her father,
her guardian, her brother, nor her cousin? Why, as for this young
lady, whose name, I say, it is not respectful to name in this busi-
ness—I myself, sir, I myself paid her attentions till she bade me
go about my business. What, sir ! do you think I should have
suffered any man to question my right to make a Lady Lackington
where I chose, and where I could 1 She laughed in my face.
Mighty pretty laughing lips she has, and teeth as white as pearls ;
and a roguish eye when she chooses, for all she goes so grave.
Did I, then, go snivelling in the dumps ? Did I take it ill that she
showed a liking for Lord Chudleigh, who is worth ten of me, and
a dozen of you ? Did I hang my chops and wipe my eyes ? Did I,
therefore, insult his lordship, and call him out?'

'All this, Sir Miles,' Harry replied impatiently, ' has nothing to
do with the question which lies between Lord Chudleigh and my-
self.'

' What I argued, for my own comfort, when sweet Kitty said me
nay, was this : that the marriage condition hath many drawbacks,
as is abundantly evident from history and poetry, while freedom
hath many sweets — that a man may tire of a Beauty and a Toast
in a month, but he never tired of liberty — that children often come
after matrimony, and they are expensive — that, as for the lady's
good looks, why, as many pretty women are in the sea as ever came
out of it. And as for my wounded feelings, why, what is it but so
much vanity? Granted that she is the Toast this year: prithee
who will be the Toast next ? Last year, they tell me, it was Peggy
Baker — and a monstrous pretty woman, too, though not to compare
with Xitty. Now her nose is out of joint. Who next ? Some
little miss now getting rapped over tin- knuckles in the nursery,
Mr. Temple ; and she will be, in her ti.rn, quite as fine a woman
as we shall live to see. That is to say, as I shall live to see, be-

236 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

cause you, of course, will be no more. At eleven o'clock upon tho
Downs you will get your quietus ; when my lord's sword has once
made daylight through your fine waistcoat. Tis pity, but yet
what help ? Mighty little looking after pretty women where you
are going to, Mr. Temple. I advise you to consider your earthly
concerns before you go out. Well, 'tis a shame, it is, a well-set-up
man like you, with a likely face and pretty fortune, to throw all
away because a woman says nay :

4 " Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair?"

Tilly vally! A pretty reason why two tall fellows should stick
swords into each other. I have a great mind, sir, not to allow my
principal to go out on such a provocation.'

' I can easily give him more, Sir Miles,' said Harry, hotly, ' or
you either, as soon as you have finished your sermon.'

' Oh, sir !' Sir Miles laughed and bowed. ' Pray do not think
that I desire to fight on that or any other provocation. We gentle-
men of Norfolk sometimes try conclusions with the cudgel before
the rapier comes into play. Therefore, sir, having given you my
mind on the matter, and having nothing more to say at this mo-
ment, you may as well refer me at once to your friend.'

Harry turned to the group of lookers-on.

'Gentlemen,' he said, 'an unhappy difference, as some of you
have witnessed, has arisen between the Lord Chudleigh and myself.
May I request the good offices of one among you in this affair?'

One of them, an officer in the king's scarlet, stepped forward and
offered his services. Harry thanked him, briefly told him where
he lodged, introduced him formally to Sir Miles, and walked away.
A few minutes' whispered consultations between Sir Miles and this
officer concluded the affair. The principals were to fight on the
Downs at eleven o'clock, when there are generally, unless a match
is going on, but few people up there. This arranged, Sir Miles
walked away to tell Lord Chudleigh ; and Harry, with his second,
left the Terrace.

Thus the affair, as gentlemen call an engagement in which their
own lives and the happiness of helpless women are concerned, was
quietly arranged on the well-known laws of 'honour,' just as if it
were nothing more than the purchase of a horse, a carriage, or a
house ; we at home sleeping meanwhile without suspicion, dream-
ing, very likely, of love and joy, even when death was threatening
those dearest to us. Sometimes when I think of this uncertain Hie,
how it is surrounded by nature with unknown dangers— how-
thoughtless and wicked men may in a moment destroy all that
most we love — how in a moment the strongest fortune is over-
thrown — how our plans may be frustrated — how the houses of cards
(which we have thought so stable) tumble down without a warning,
and all our lisnpinos* with them — when, I say, I think of these

HO W KITTY PR E VENTED A D UEL. 237

things I wonder Low anyone can laugh and be merry, save the in-
sensate wretches whose whole thought is of their own enjoyment
for the moment. Yet the Lord, our Father, is above all ; in whose
hand is the ordering of the smallest thing— the meanest life.
Moreover, He hath purposed that youth should be a time of joy,
and so hath wisely hidden away the sources of evil.

Cicely Crump was stirring betimes in the morning, and before
six was in the market buying the provisions for the day. And as
she passed the door of the Assembly Eooms, she looked in to see
the dipper, a friend of hers, who sat at the distribution of the
water, though but few of the visitors took it regularly. This good
woman, Phoebe Game by name, had kept the secret for more than
an hour, having heard it, under promise of strictest secrecy, from
one of the late revellers when she took her place among the glasses
at five o'clock in the morning. She was a good woman and dis-
creet according to her lights ; but this dreadful secret was too
much for her, and if she had not told it to Cicely, must have told
it to some one else. At sight of her visitor, therefore, discretion
abandoned this good woman, and she babbled all she knew. Yet
not in a hurry, but little by little, as becomes a woman with such
a piece of intelligence, the parting of which is as the parting with
power.

'Cicely,' she said, shaking her forefinger in an awful and threaten-
ing way, ' I have heard this very morning — ah ! only an hour or so
since— news which would make your poor young lady jump out of
her pretty shoes for fright. I have— I have.'

' Goodness !' cried Cicely. 'Oh, Phoebe ! whatever in the world
is it?'

' I dare not tell,' she replied. 'It is ag much as my place is
worth to tell. We dippers are not like common folk. We must
have no ears to hear and no tongue to speak. We must listen
and make no sign. The quality says what they like and they does
what they like. It isn't for a humble dipper to speak, nor to tell,
»or to spoil sport— even if it is murder.'

'Oh, tell me!' cried Cicely. 'Why, Phcebe, your tongue can
run twenty to the dozen if you like. And if I knew, why there
isn't a mouse in all Epsom can be muter, or a guinea-pig dumber.
Only you tell me.'

Thus appealed to, Mrs. Game proceeded (as she had from the
first intended) to transfer her secret to Cicely, with many interjec-
tions, reflections, sighs, prayers, and injunctions to tell no one,
but to go home and pray on her bended knees that Lord Chud-
leigh's hand might be strengthened and his eye directed, so that
this meddlesome young gentleman might be run through in some
vital part.

Cicely received tbe intelligence with dismay. The good girl
had more of my confidence than most ladies give to maids: but

238 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

she was above the common run and quick of apprehension. Be-
sides, she loved me.

' What use,' she asked bitterly, ' for Mr. Wash to prohibit the
gentlemen from wearing their swords when they have got them
at home ready for using when they want ? Mr. Temple, indeed !
To think that my young lady would look at him when my lord is
about!'

' Well — go, child,' said the dipper. * You and me, being two
poor women with little but our characters, which are, thank the
Lord, good so far as we have got, cannot meddle nor make in this
pie. I am glad I told you, though. I felt before you came as if
the top of my head was being lifted off with the force of it like a
loaf with the yeast. Oh, the wickedness of gentlefolk !'

Cicely walked slowly back, thinking what she had best do —
whether to keep the secret, or to tell me. Finally she resolved on
telling me.

Accordingly she woke me up, for I was still asleep, and com-
municated the dreadful intelligence. There could be no doubt of
its truth. Sir Miles, she told me, had expostulated with Harry
Temple, who would hear no reason. They would meet to kill each
other at eleven o'clock, when the ladies were at prayers, on the
Downs behind Durdans.

I thanked her, and told her to leave me while I dressed; but
not to awaken Mrs. Pimpernel, who would be the better for a
long sleep after her late night, while I thought over what was to
be done.

First of all I was in a mighty great rage with Harry ; the rage
I was in prevented me from doing what I ought to have done—
viz., had I been in my right mind, I should have gone to him
instantly, and then and there I should have ordered him to with-
draw from the Wells. Should he refuse, I would have gone to
Sir Robert, a Justice of the Peace, and caused the duel to be
prevented.

I could find no excuse for Harry. Even supposing that his
passion was so violent (which is a thing one ought to be ashamed
of rather than to make a boast of it), was that any reason why my
happiness was to be destroyed? Men, I believe, would like to
carry off their wives as the liomans canned off the Sabine women,
and no marriage feast would be more acceptable to their barbarous
hearts than the one in which these rude soldiers celebrated this
enforced union.

Cicely and I looked at each other. It was seven o'clock. The
duel was to take place at eleven. Could I seek out Lord Chud-
leigh P No; his honour was concerned. Or Sir Miles ? But the
honest baronet looked on a duel as a necessity of life, which might
happen at any time to a gentleman, though he himself preferred a
bout with cudgels.

Presently Cicely spoke.

HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL. 239

' I once heard,' slie said, ' a story.'

' Child, this is no time for telling stories.'

' Let me tell it first, Miss Kitty. Nay, it is not a silly story.
A gentleman once had planned to carry off a great heiress.'

' What has that to do with Lord Chudleigh ? He does not want
to carry me off.'

' The gentleman was a wicked man and an adventurer. He only
wanted the lady's money. One of her friends, a woman it was,
found out the plot. She wanted to prevent it without bloodshed,
or murder, or duelling, which would have happened if it had been
prevented by any stupid interference of clumsy men '

' Oh, Cicely! get on with the story.'

' She did prevent it. And how do you think ?'

' How ?'

Cicely ran and shut the door, which was ajar. Then she looked
all about the room and under the bed.

' It was a most dreadful wicked thing to do. Yet to save a friend
or a lover, I would even do it.'

' What was it, Cicely ?'

' I must whisper.'

' Quick ! give me my hood, child.'

She put is on and tied it with trembling fingers, because we were
really going to do a most desperate thing.

' Is the house on the road, Cicely ? Cannot he go by another
way?'

' No ; he cannot go by any other way.'

' Say not a word, Cicely. Let not madam think or suspect
anything.'

On the road which leads from the town by a gentle ascent to the
Downs, there stood (on the left-hand side going up) a large square
house in red brick, surrounded by a high wall on which were iron
spikes. The door of the wall opened into a sort of small lodge,
iind the great gates were strong, high, and also protected by iron
spikes. I had often observed this house ; but being full of my
own thoughts, and not a curious person always wanting to discover
the business of others, I had not inquired into the reason of these
fortifications. Yet I knew that the house was the residence of a
certain learned physician, Dr. Jonathan Powlett by name, who
daily walked upon the Terrace dressed in black, with a great gold-
headed cane and an immense full periwig. He had a room in one
of the houses of the Terrace in which he received his patient?),
and he made it his business to accost every stranger on his arrival
with the view of getting his custom. Thus he would, after inquir-
ing after the stranger's health, branch off upon a dissertation on
the merits of the Epsom waters and an account of the various
diseases, with their symptoms (so that timid men often fancied
they had contracted these disorders, and ran to the doctor in

24c THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

terror), which the waters would cure. Mrs. Esther was pleased to
converse with him, and I believe spent several guineas in consulta-
tions on the state of her health, now excellent.

I had never spoken to him except once, when he saluted me
with a finely pompous compliment about youth and beauty, the
twin stars of such a company as was gathered together at Epsom.
' Yet,' he said, ' while even the physician cannot arrest the first of
these, the second may be long preserved by yearly visits to this
invigorating spot, not forgetting consultations with scientific and
medical men, provided they are properly qualified and hold the
license of the College of Physicians, without which a so-called
doctor is but a common apothecary, chirurgeon, or leech, fit only
to blister and to bleed.'

I made my way to his house, hoping to catch him before he
sallied forth in the morning. The place was, as I have said, hidden
by hi<:h brick walls, and the gate was guarded by a lodge in which,
after ringing a great bell, I found a man of rough and strong ap-
pearance, who asked me rudely what was my business.

I told him my business was with his master.

After a little demur, he bade me wait in the lodge while he went
away, and presently returned with the doctor.

'My dear young lady,' he cried. 'I trust there is nothing
wrong with that most estimable lady, Mrs. Pimpernel ?'

' Indeed, doctor.' I replied, ' I come on quite a different errand.
And my business is for your ear alone.'

Upon this he bade the fellow retire, and we were left alone in
the little room of the lodge.

Then I exposed my business.

He looked very serious when he quite understood what I wanted
him to do.

'It is very dangerous,' he said.

I then told him how it might be so managed as that there should
be no clanger in it at all. He thought for a little, and then he
laughed to himself.

' But, madam,' he said, "suppose I do this for you safely and
snujly. What reward am I to have for my trouble and risk r

' What do you think the business is worth ?'

He looked curiously in my face as if wondering how much he
could safely say. Then he replied :

'1 believe it is worth exactly twenty guineas.'

' I can spare no more than ten,' I replied.

•Well,' he said, 'ten guineas is a trifle indeed for so great a
risk and so great a service. Still, if no more is to be had, and to
oblige so sweet a young lady- — '

Here he held out a fat white hand, the fingers of which were
curled as if from long habit in clutching guineas.

I gave him five as an instalment, promising him the other five
when the job was done.

HOW KITTY PREVENTED A DUEL. 241

All being safely in train, I returned home to breakfast; but
after breakfast I returned to the physician's house, and sat down
in tbe lodge, so placed that I could see without being seen, and
looked down tbe road.

After the bell for morning prayers had stopped, I began to ex-
pect my friends. Sure enough the first who came into sight were
my lord and Sir Miles, tbe former looking grave and earnest. A
little while after them came a gentleman whom I knew to be one
of the company at Epsom. He was alone. Now this was tbe
most fortunate accident, because had the gentleman, who was none
other than Harry's second, accompanied his principal, my plot had
failed. But fortunately (as I learned afterwards) they missed
each other in the town, and so set off alone. This, at tbe time, I
knew not, being ignorant of tbe laws of the duello. And last
there came along Harry himself, \i alking quickly as if afraid of
being late.

I gave a signal which had been agreed upon, and as he approached
the house, the great gates were thrown open, and two strapping
tall fellows, stepping quickly into the road, caught poor Harry
(the would-be murderer) by the arms, ran a thick rope round him
before he bad time to cry out, and dragged him into tbe gates, so
quickly, so strongly, and so resolutely, that be had not the least
chance of making any resistance. Indeed, it was done in so work-
manlike a fashion that it seemed as if the rogues had done the
same thing dozens of times before.

Heavens ! To think that a man brought up so virtuously as
Harry Temple, a young man of such excellent promise, so great a
scholar, and one who bad actually studied Theology, and attended
the lectures of a Lady Margaret Professor, should, under any cir-
cumstances of life, abandon himself to language so wicked and a
rage so overwhelming. Nothing ever surprised me so much as to
hear that gentle scholar use such dreadful language, as bad as any
that I had ever beard in the Fleet Market.

Caught up in this unexpected way, with his arms tied to his sides,
carried by two stout ruffians, Harry had, to be sure, some excuse
for wrath. His wig had fallen to the ground, bis face was red and
distorted by passion so that even I hardly knew him, when Doctor
Powlett came out of his house and slowly advanced to meet him.

' Ay, ay, ay?' he asked slowly, wagging his head and stroking
bis long chin deliberately, in the manner of a physician who con-
sidered what best treatment to recommend. ' So this is the un-
fortunate young gentleman, is it? Ay, he looks very far gone.
^Nothing less, I fear, than Dementia acuta cum rabie violentd.
Resolute treatment in such cases is the best kindness. Fou will
take him, keepers, to the blue-room, and chain him carefully.
Your promptitude in making the capture shall be rewarded. As
for you, sir '—be shook bis forefinger at the unlucky Harry as if
he was a schoolmaster admonishing a boy—' as for you, sir, it ia

16

242 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

lucky, indeed, that you have been caught. You were traced to
this town where, I suppose, you arrived early this morning. Ha !
I have known madmen to be run through their vitals by some
gentlemen whom they have accosted ; or smothered between
mattresses — a reprehensible custom, because it deprives the
physician of his dues — or brained with a cudgel. You are for-
tunate, sir. But have a care : this house is remarkable for its
kindness to the victims of mania : but have a care.'

Here Harry burst into a fit of imprecations most dreadful to
listen to.

' Anybody,' said the Doctor, ' may swear in this house : a good
many do : that often relieves a congested brain, and does no harm
to me and my attendants. But disobedience or violence is punished
by cold-water baths, by being held under the pump, by bread and
water, and by other methods with which I hope you will not make
yourself better acquainted. Now, keepers !'

For the truth is that the doctor kept a house for the reception
of madmen and unhappy lunatics, and I had persuaded him to
kidnap Harry — by mistake. In four-and- twenty hours, I thought,
he would have time to repent. It was sad, however, to see a man
of breeding and learning so easily give way to profane swearing,
and it shows the necessity of praying against temptation. Women,
fortunately, do not know how to swear. It was, I confess, im-
possible to pity him. Why, he was going up the hill and on to
the Downs with no other object than to kill my lover 1

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOW HARRY GOT RELEASED.

Powlett, returning to the lodge where I
awaited him, ' safely chained up in a strait- waistcoat. A strong
young gentleman, indeed, and took four of my fellows to reduce him.
Almost a pity,' he went on, thinking of the case from a professional
point of view, ' that so valiant a fellow is in his right mind.'

' Doctor, what may that mean V

' Nay, I was but thinking — a physician must needs consider these
things — that a county gentleman, with so great an estate, would be
indeed a windfall in such an establishment as mine. 5

' Why, doctor, would you have all the world mad V

' They are already,' he replied ; ' as mad as March hares — all of
them. I would only have them in establishments, with strait-
waistcoats on, and an experienced and humane physician to reduce
them by means of — those measures which are never known to fail.'

' I hope,' I said seriously, because I began to fear that some
violence might have been used, ' that my poor friend has been
treated gentiy.'

nOW HARRY GOT RELEASED. 243

' We never,' replied the doctor, ' treat them otherwise than gently.
My fellows understand that this — ahem !— unfortunate escaped
sufferer from lunacy or dementia (because I have not yet had time
to diagnose his case with precision) is to be treated with singular
forbearance. One or two cuffs on the head, an admonition by
means of a keeper's boot, he hath doubtless received. These things
are absolutely necessary : but no collar-bones put out or ribs
broken. In the case of violent patients, ribs, as a rule, do get
broken, and give trouble in the setting. Your friend, young lady,
has all his bones whole. No discipline, so far, has been administered
beyond a few buckets of water, which it was absolutely necessary
to pour over his head, out of common humanity, and in order to
calm the excessive rage into which the poor gentleman fell. He
is quite calm now, and has neither been put under the pump nor
in the tank. I have expressly ordered that there is to be no cudgel-
ling. And I have promised my fellows half-a-guinea apiece ' — here
he looked at me with a meaning smile — ' if they are gentle with
him. I have told them that there is a young lady interested in his
welfare. My keepers, I assure you, madam, have rough work to do,
but they are the most tender-hearted of men. Otherwise, they
would be sent packing. And at the sight of half-a-guinea, their
hearts yearn with affection towards the patients.'

I smiled, and promised the half-guineas on the liberation of the
prisoner. Cuffs and kicks ! a few buckets of cold water ! a strait-
waistcoat ! My poor Harry ! surely this would be enough to cure
any man of his passion. And what a fitting end to a journey
commenced with the intention of killing and murdering your old
playfellow's lover ! Yet, to be sure, it was a wicked thing I had
done, and I resolved to lose no time (as soon as there was no longer
any fear of a duel) in beginning to repent.

All this accomplished, which was, after all, only a beginning, I left
the house and walked up the hill, intending to find the three gentle-
men waiting for their duel. These meetings generally took place, I
knew, on the way to the old well. I left Durdans on the right, and
struck across the turf to the left. Presently I saw before me a group
of three gentlemen, standing together and talking. That is to say,
two were talking, and one, Lord Chudleigh, was stauding apart.
They saw me presently, and I heard Sir Miles, in his loud and
hearty voice, crying out : ' Gad so ! It is pretty Kitty herself.'

' You look, gentlemen,' I said, ' as if you were expecting quite
another person. But pray, Sir Miles, why on the Downs so early ?
There is no race to-day, nor any bull-baiting. The card-room is
open, and I believe the inns are not shut.'

' We are here,' he replied, unblushingly, ' to take the air. It is
bracing : it is good for the complexion : it expands the chest and
opens the breathing pipes : it is as good as a draught of the waters :
and as stimulating as a bottle of port.'

16—2

244 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET,

'Indeed ! Then I am surprised you do not use the fresh aii
oftener. For surely it. is cheaper than drinking wine.'

' In future,' he said, ' I intend to do so.'

' But why these swords, Sir Miles 1 You know the rule of the
Wells.'

' They wanted sharpening,' he replied. ' The air of the Downs is
so keen, that it sets an edge on sword-blades.'

' You looked — fie, gentlemen ! — for Mr. Temple to help sharpen
the blades, as a butcher sharpens his knife, by putting steel to steel
Sir Miles, you are a wicked and bloodthirsty man.'

He laughed, and so did the officer. Lord Chudleigh changed
colour.

'Gentlemen,' I went on, ' I have to tell you — I have come here to
tell you— that an accident has happened to Mr. Temple, which will
prevent his keeping the appointment made for him at this hour. I
am sure, if he knew that I was coming here, he would ask me to
express his great regret at keeping you waiting. Now, however,
you may all go home again, and put off killing each other for
another day.'

They looked at each other, astonished.

' My lord,' I said, ' I am sure you will let me ask you what injury
my poor friend Harry Temple has done you that you desire to com-
pass his death.'

' Nay,' he replied, ' I desire not to compass any man's death. I
am here against my will. I have no quarrel with him.'

' What do you say, Sir Miles V I asked. ' Are you determined
that blood should be spilt V

' Not I,' he replied. ' But as the affair concerns the honour of
two gentlemen, I think, with respect to so fair a lady, that it had
better be left in the hands of gentlemen.'

'But,' I said, 'it concerns me too now, partly because I have
brought you the reason of Mr. Temple's absence, and partly because
he is one of my oldest friends and a gentleman for whom I have a
very great regard. And methinks, Sir Miles, with submission,
because a woman cannot understand the laws of the duello or the
scruples of what gentlemen call honour— that honour which allows
a man to drink and gamble, but not to take a hasty word, that if I
can persuade Lord Chudleigh that Mr. Temple does not desire the
duel, and is unfeignedly ashamed of himself, and if I can assrfre
Mr. Temple that Lord Chudleigh would not be any the happier for
killing Mr. Temple, why then this dreadful encounter need not take
place, and we may all go home again in peace.'

Upon this they looked at each other doubtfully, and Sir Miles
burst out laughing. When Sir Miles laughed I thought it would
all end well at once. But then Harry's second spoke up gravely,
and threatened to trouble the waters.

' I represent Mr. Temple in this affair. I cannot allow my
principal to leave the field without satisfaction. We have been

HO W HARRY GOT REL EA SED. 245

insulted. We demand reparation to our honour. We cannot be
set aside in this unbecoming manner by a young lady,'

' Pray, sir,' I asked, ' does your scarlet coat and your commission
— I have said he was an officer — ' enjoin you to set folks by the ears,
and to promote that private method of murder which men call
duelling'/ What advantage will it be to you, provided these two
gentlemen fight and kill each other V

'Why, as for a-d vantage — none,' he said. 'But who ever
heard '

' Then, sir, as it will be of infinite advantage to many of their
friends, and a subject of great joy and thankfulness that they should
not fight, be pleased not to embroil matters further. And, indeed,
sir, I am quite sure that you have breathed the bracing air of the
Downs quite long enough, and had better leave us here, and go back
to the town. You may else want me to fight in the place of Mr.
Temple. That would be a fine way of getting reparation to your
wounded honour.'

At this he became very red in the face, and spoke more about
honour, laws among gentlemen, and fooling away his time among
people who, it seemed, either did not know their own minds, or
contrived accidents to happen in the nick of time.

' Hark ye, brother,' said Sir Miles upon this, ' the young lady is
right in her way, because, say what we will, our men were going
out on a fool's errand. Why, in the devil's name, should they fight ?
What occasion has Mr. Temple to quarrel with my lord V

' If Mr. Temple likes ' said his second, shrugging his shoulders.
' After all it is his business, not mine. If, in the army, a man pulls
another man's nose, why '

'Will you please to understand, sir,' I broke in, ' that Mr. Temple
is really delayed by an accident — it happened to him on his way
here, and was entirely unforeseen by him, and was one which he
could neither prevent nor expect ? If a woman had any honour, in
your sense, I would give you my word of honour that this is so.'

' Under these circumstances,' the gallant officer said, ' I do not
see why we are waiting here. Mr. Temple will, of course, tell his
own story in his own way, and unless the fight takes place on the
original quarrel, why, he may find another second. Such a lame
ending I never experienced.'

'And that,' interposed Sir Miles, who surely was the most good-
natured of men, 'that reminds me, my good sir, that in this matter,
unless we would make bad worse, we all of us had better make up
our minds to tell no story at all, but leave it to Mr. Temple. Where-
fore, if it please you, I will walk to the town in your company, there
to contradict any idle gossip we may hear, and to lay upon the back
of the rightful person, either with cudgels or rapiers, any calumny
which may be attached to Mr. Temple's name. But, no doubt, he
is strong enough to defend himself.'

'Beally, Sir Miles,' said the officer with a sneer, 'I wonder you

246 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

do not fight for him yourself. Here is your principal, Lord Chud-
leigh, ready for you.'

' Sir, he is not my friend, but the friend of Miss Pleydell. He is,
as I believe you or any other person who may quarrel with him
would find, perfectly well able to fight his own battles. Meantime
I am ready to fight my own, as is already pretty well known.'

With that they both walked off the field, not together, but near
each other, the officer in a great huff and Sir Miles rolling along
beside him, big and good-tempered, yet, like a bull-dog, an ugly dog
to tackle.

Lord Chudleigh and I were left alone upon the Downs.

' Kitty,' he cried, ' what does this mean V

' That there is to be no fighting between you and Harry Temple.
That is what it means, my lord. Oh, the wickedness of men !'

'But where is he? what is the accident? What does your pre-
sence mean ? Did he send you V

I laughed, but could not tell him. Then I reflected that the
errand on which he had come was no laughing matter, and I became
grave again.

'My lord,' I said, 'is it well to tell a girl one day that you love
her, and the next to come out to fight with swords about a trifle 1
Do you think nothing of a broken heart V

' My dear,' he replied, ' it was forced upon me, believe me. A
man must fight if he is insulted openly. There is no help for it till
customs change.'

' Oh !' I cried ; ' can that man be in his senses who hopes to win
a woman's heart by insulting and trying to kill — her — her lover V

' Yes, Kitty.' He caught my hand and kissed it. ' Your lover—
your most unhappy lover ! who can do no more than say he loves you,
and yet can never hope to marry you. How did I dare to open my
heart to you, my dear, with such a shameful story to tell V

' My lord,' I said, ' promise me, if you sincerely love me, which I
cannot doubt, not to fight with this hot-headed young man.'

' I promise/ he replied, 'to do all that a man of honour may, in
order to avoid a duel with him.'

' Then, my lord, I promise, once more in return — if you would care
to have such a promise from so poor a creature as myself '

' Kitty ! Divine angel !'

' I swear, even though you never wed me, to remain single for
your sake. And even should you change your mind, and bestow
your affections upon another woman, and scorn and loathe me, never
to think upon another man.'

He seized me in his arms, though we were on the open Downs
(only there was not a soul within sight, so far as I could see around),
and kissed me on the cheeks and lips.

' My love !' he murmured ; ' my sweet and gracious lady !'

Next, I had to consider what best to do about my prisoner. I

HO W HA RRY GOT RELEA SED. 247

begged my lord to go home through the Durdans, while I returned
by the road. On the way I resolved to liberate Harry at once, but
to make conditions with him. I therefore returned to the doctor's,
and asked that I might be allowed to see the prisoner.

Dr. Powlett was at first very unwilling. He pointed out, with
some justice, that there had not, as yet, been time enough to allow
of a colourable pretence at discovering the supposed mistake ; a
few days, say a fortnight, should elapse, during which the search
might be supposed to be a-making ; in that interval Harry was to
sit chained in his cell, with a strait-waistcoat on.

' And believe me,' said this kind physician, ' he will learn from his
imprisonment to admire the many kindnesses and great humanity
shown to unhappy persons who are afflicted with the loss of their
wits. Besides this, he will have an opportunity of discovering for
what moderate charges such persons are received, entertained, and
treated with the highest medical skill, at Epsom, by the learned
physician, Jonathan Powlett, Medicince Doctor. He will swallow
my pills, drink my potions (which are sovereign in all diseases of the
brain), be nourished on my gruel (compounded scientifically with
the Epsom water), will be tenderly handled by my keepers, and all
for the low charge of four guineas a week, paid in advance, in-
cluding servants. And he will, when cured (if Providence assist),
come out '

' Twice as mad as he went in. No, doctor ; that, if you please,
was not what I intended. The mischief is averted for the present,
and, if you will conduct me to your prisoner, I think I can manage
to avert it altogether.'

"Well, finding that there was nothing more to be got out of the
case — I am quite sure that he was ready to treat poor Harry as really
mad, and to keep him there as long as any money could be got out of
him — the doctor gave way, and led me to the room in which lay
prisoner Harry.

It was a room apart from the great common rooms in which idiots
and imbecile persons are chained at regular intervals to the wall,
never leaving their places, night or day, until they die. I was thus
spared the pain of seeing what I am told is one of the most truly awful
and terrifying spectacles in the world, The doctor, who measured
his kindness by the guineas which he could extract from his patients'
friends, kept certain private chambers, where, if the poor creatures
were chained, they were not exposed to the sights and sounds of the
common rooms.

In one of these, therefore, he had bestowed Harry.

' Let me,' I said, 'go in first, and speak with him. Do you come
pi-esently.'

I think if I had known, beforehand, what they were going to do,
I might have relented — but no : anything was better than that those
two men should stand, sword in hand, face to face, trying to kill
each other for the sake of an unworthy girl.

248 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Yet the poor lad, whom I had ever loved like a brother, looked in
piteous case ; for they had put the strait-waistcoat over him, which
pinned his arms to his sides, and a chain about his waist which was
fastened to the wall behind him ; his wig was lying on the floor ; he
seemed wet through, which was the natural effect of those savage
keepers' buckets ; his face wore a look of rage and despair sad to
behold : his eyes glared like the eyes of a bull at a baiting.

' You here, Kitty V he cried. ' You ? What is the meaning of
you in this house V

' Harry, there has been, it seems, a very terrible blunder com-
mitted by Dr. Powlett's servants ; they were told you were a
certain escaped madman, and they arrested you in the discharge of
their duty. It is most fortunate that the fact has been brought to
my ears, because I could hasten '

' Then quick, Kitty, quick !' he cried. ' Go, call the doctor, and
set me free. It may not yet be too late. Quick, Kitty ! They are
waiting for me.'

He forgot, I suppose, what this ' waiting ' might mean to me.

' Who are waiting, Harry V

He did not reply.

' What were you going to do on the Downs this morning, Harry,
when they made a prisoner of you V

' That is nothing to do with you,' he replied. ' Go, call the
rascally doctor, whose ribs I will break, and his men, whom I will
murder, for this job.'

' Nothing to do with me, Harry ! Are you quite sure V

' You look, Kitty, as if you knew. Did Lord Chud No ; he

would not. Did Sir Miles go sneaking to you with the news ?
Gad ! I feel inclined to try conclusions with the Norfolk baronet
with his cudgel about which he makes such a coil.'

' Never mind who told me. I know the whole wicked, disgraceful,
murderous story !'

' Disgraceful ! You talk like a woman. Shall a man sit down
idly, and see his wife snatched out of his arms ]'

' What wife ? Oh, Harry ! you have gone mad about this busi-
ness. Cannot you understand that I was never engaged to marry
you — that I never thought of such a thing ? I could never have
been your wife, whether there was any rival or no. And did you
think that you would make me think the more kindly of you, should
you kill the man who, as you foolishly think, had supplanted you ]
Or was it out of revenge, and in the hope of making me miserable,
that you designed to fight this duel V

He was silent at this. When a man is in a strait-waistcoat, and
chained to a wall, it is difficult to look dignified. But Harry's look
of shame and confusion, under the circumstances of having no arms,
was truly pitiful.

' You can talk about that afterwards,' he said, doggedly. ' Go,
call the scoundrel doctor.'

HOW HARRY GOT RELEASED. 249

'Presently. I want to tell you, first, what I think about it. "Was
it kind to the ■woman you pretended to love to bring upon her the
risk of this great unhappiness ? Bern ember, Harry, I told you all. I
told you what I could not have told even to Nancy, in the hope of
breaking you of this mad passion. I trusted that you were good
and true of heart ; and this is the return.'

'It is done now,' he replied, gloomily. 'Do not reproach me,
Kitty. Let Lord Chudleigh run me through the body, and so an
end. Now, fetch the doctor fellow and his men.'

' That would have been indeed an end,' I said. ' But, Harry, I
have done better than that for you. I have stayed the duel alto-
gether. You will not have to fight.'

With that I told him how I had gone to the Downs, and what I
had said to the gentlemen. Only, be sure that I left out what passed
in the road between his lordship and myself.

Well, Master Harry flew into a mighty rage upon hearing this,
and, being still in the strait-waistcoat and in chains, his wrath was
increased because he could not move : he talked wildly about his
injured honour, swore that he would go and offer Lord Chudleigh
first, and Sir Miles later, such an open and public affront as must be
washed out with the blood of one ; declared that I might have de-
stroyed his reputation for courage for good, but that he was resolved
the world should judge to the contrary. As for the company at the
Wells, he would challenge every man at Epsom, if necessary, if he
should dare to asperse his bravery. More he said to the same effect
but I interrupted him.

first, I promised to go with him upon the Terrace, there to meet
the people and give him such countenance as a woman could. Next
I promised him that Lord Chudleigh should meet him in a friendly
spirit; that Sir Miles should be the first to proclaim Mr. Temple's
courage. I assured him that he might be quite certain of finding
many other opportunities of proving his valiancy, should he continue
in his present bloodthirsty frame of mind. I congratulated him on
his Christian readiness to throw away a life which had hitherto
been surrounded by so many blessings. Lastly, I advised him to
consider how far his present attitude and sentiments corresponded
with the divine philosophy of the ancients, whom he had once
been so fond of quoting.

He refused to make any promise whatever.

Then I bade him remember — first, where he was ; second, under
what circumstances he came there ; third, that he was surrounded
by raving madmen, chained to the wall as one of them, put in a
strait- waistcoat like one of them, and about to be reduced to a diet
of bread and water ; that no one knew where he was except myself
and Dr. Powlett ; that neither of us would tell anything about
him ; and that, in point of fact, unless he promised what I asked,
he might remain where he was until all danger was past.

' And that, Harry, may be I know not when. For be very well

250 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

assured that, as I have obtained from Lord Chudleigh a promise to
seek no quarrel with you, I will not let you go from this place until
I am assured that you will seek no quarrel with him, either on my
account or under any other pretext whatever. You are in great
misery (which you richly deserve for your wicked and murderous
design) ; you are wet and hungry : if I go away without your
promise, you will continue in greater misery until I return. Be-
think thee, Harry.'

Still he was obdurate. Strange that' a man will face almost any-
thing rather than possible ridicule.

What, after long persuasion, made him give way, was a plain
threat that if he would not promise what I required I would release
him at once, but tell his story to all the town, so that, for very ridi-
cule's sake, it would be impossible for the duel to take place.

' It will tell very prettily, Harry,' I said. ' Nancy will dress it up
for me, and will relate it in her best and liveliest way ; how you
tried to get a little country girl of sixteen to engage herself to you ;
how, when you found her a year later turned into a lady, you
thought that you could terrify her into accepting your proposals, on
the plea that she had already promised ; how you turned sulky ;
how you quarrelled with Lord Chudleigh, and made him accept your
duel ; how you were taken prisoner by mistake, and kicked,
cuffed '

' I was not kicked !' he cried.

' You were. l)r. Powlett's patients are always kicked. Then you
had buckets of cold water thrown over you ; you were put into a
strait-waistcoat and chained to the wall : while I came and asked
yon whether you preferred remaining in the madhouse or pronging
to behave like an honourable gentleman, and abstain from insulting
persons who have done no harm to you or yours.'

' I believe,' he said, 'that it is none other than yourself who has
had me captured and treated in this manner. Fcmina fur ens ! _

'A mere mistake, Harry,' I replied, 'of this good physician's
zealous servants. Why, it might have happened in any such estab-
lishment. But for me to order it — oh ! impossible— though, when
one comes to think of it, there are few things a woman— femina
furens, the English of which, Master Harry, 1 know— would not do
to save two friends from hacking and slashing each other.'

Upon this he gave way.

' I must,' he said, ' get away from this place with what speed I
may, even if I have to pink half the men in Epsom to prove I am
no coward. Kitty, call the doctor. I believe, mad nymph, thou
hast a devil !'

' Nay, Harry, all this was planned but to lay the devil, behevo
me. But promise first.'

' Well, then. It is a hard pill to swallow, Kitty.'

' Promise.'

' I promise.'

HOW HARRY GOT RELEASED. 251

' Not to pick any quarrel, or to revive any old quarrel, with Lord
Chudleigh or Sir Miles Lackington.'

He repeated the words after me.

' And to remain good friends with Kitty Pleydell and all who are
her friends and followers.'

He repeated these words as well, though with some appearance of
swallowing distasteful food.

' I cannot shake hands with you, Harry, because, poor boy, your
hands are hidden away beneath that strait- waistcoat. But I know
you to be an honourable gentleman, as becomes a man of your
birth and so great a scholar, and I accept your word. Wherefore,
my dear old friend and schoolfellow, seeing that there is to be no
more pretence of love between us, but only of friendship aud good
wishes, I will call— Dr. Powlett.'

That good man was waiting in the corridor or passage while Harry
and I held this long conversation. He came as soon as I called
him.

' Sir,' said I, as soon as he came in (I noticed that he looked
anxiously behind him to see that his four varlets were at hand,
ready to defend him if necessary) — : Sir, here is a most grievous
mischance indeed. For this gentleman is no other than Mr. Harry
Temple, Justice of the Peace, Bachelor of Arts of the University of
Cambridge, Fellow Commoner of his College, Member of the
Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn, and a country gentleman, with
a great estate, of East Kent. He is, in truth, doctor, no more mad
than you or I, or anyone else in the world.'

The doctor affected the greatest surprise and indignation. First
he expressed his inability to believe my statement, although it
pained him deeply to differ from a lady ; then he called upon one of
his men to bring him the Hue and Cry, and read out a description
of a runaway madman which so perfectly answered the appearance
of Harry, that it would deceive anyone, except myself, because I
was sure he had himself written it — after the capture. He then
asked me, solemnly and gravely, if I did not think, having heard
the description, that the men were justified in their action.

I replied that the paper so exactly tallied with Harry's appearance
that such a mistake was most easy to account for, and must at once,
when explained, command forgiveness. Nevertheless, Harry's face
looked far from forgiving.

' Varlets,' said Dr. Powlett, who in some respects reminded mo
of a certain Doctor of Divinity, because his voice was deep and his
manner stately, ' go, instantly, every man Jack, upon his bended
knees and ask the pardon of Mr. Temple for an offence committed
by pure inadvertence and excess of honourable zeal in the extirpa-
tion — I mean the comfortable and kindly confinement — of tho
lunatic, insane, and persons demented.'
They all four fell upon their knees and asked forgiveness.
Harry replied briefly, that as for pardoning them, he would wait

252 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

until he was free, when he would break all their ribs and wring
their necks.

' Sir,' said the doctor, ' you are doubtless in the right, and are
naturally, for the moment, annoyed at this little misadventure, at
which you will laugh when you consider it at leisure. It will
perhaps be of use to you as showing you on what humane, kindly,
and gentle a system such establishments as ours are conducted.
As regards the pardon which you will extend to these honest
fellows, time is no object to them. They would as soon receive
their pardon to-morrow, or a week hence, or a year, or twenty
years hence, as to-day, because their consciences are at rest, having
done their duty ; therefore, good sir, they will wait to release you
until you are ready with their pardon.'

Harry, after thinking for a few moments over this statement,
said, that so far as he was concerned, the four men might go to the
devil, and that he pardoned them.

' There remains only,' said the doctor, ' one person who infinitely
regrets the temporary annoyance your honour has been subjected
to. It is myself. I have to ask of you, for the sake of my esta-
blishment and my reputation, two or three conditions. The first
of them is your forgiveness, without which I feel that my self-
respect as a true Christian and man of science would suffer ; the
second, absolute secrecy as regards these proceedings, a knowledge

of which might be prejudicial to me ; and the third ' here he

hesitated and glanced sideways at me. ' The third is, of course'
— he plucked up courage and spoke confidently — ' a reimbursement
of the expenses I have been put to, as, for instance' — here he drew
out a long roll, and read from it — ' services of four men in watch-
ing for the escaped lunatic for five hours, at five shillings an hour
for each man, five pounds ; to the capture of the same, being done
in expeditious and workmanlike fashion, without confusion, scandal,
cracking of crowns or breaking of ribs, two guineas; to bringing
him in, and receiving many cuffs, blows, kicks, etc., on the way,
three guineas ; to use of private room for one month at one guinea
a week (we sever let our private and comfortable chambers for less
than one month), four guineas ; to wear and tear of bucket, strait-
waistcoat, and chain, used in confining and bringing to reason the
prisoner, two guineas ; to board and lodging of the patient for one
month at two guineas a week (we never receive a patient for less
than one month), eight guineas ; to attendants' fees for the same
time, two guineas for entrance and three guineas for departure : t<>
my own professional attendance at two guineas a week (I never
undertake a case for less than one month certain), eight guineas.
The total, good sir, I find to amount to a mere trifle of thirty-eight
pounds twelve shillings.'

Heavens! did one ever hear of such an extortionate charge?
And all for two hours in a strait-waistcoat !

Harry stormed i^d swore. But the most he could get was a

HOW HARRY GOT RELEASED. 253

reduction of the bill by which certain items, including the three
guineas for giving and receiving kicks and cuffs, and the two
guineas for wear and tear of tbe bucket which had been emptied
over him, were to be remitted. Finally he accepted the conditions,
with the promise to pay thirty guineas in full discharge. And
really I think that Dr. Powlett had done a good morning's work,
having taken ten guineas out of me and thirty out of Harry. But
then, as he said, it was a delicate and dangerous business, and
might, in less skilful hands (meaning perhaps mine, perhaps his
own), have led to very awkward results.

The Terrace was full of people, for it was now half-past twelve.
As Harry and I made our way slowly under the trees they parted
for us left and right, staring at us as we passed them with curious
eyes. For the rumour had spread abroad that there was to have
been a duel that morning between Lord Chudleigh and Mr. Temple,
and that it was stopped — no one knew how — by some accident
which prevented Mr. Temple from keeping his appointment. Now
at the other end of the Terrace we met Lord Chudleigh himself,
who after saluting me, held out his hand before all the world to
Harry, who took it with a bow and a blush.

There was a great sigh of disappointment. No duel, then,
would be fought at all, and the two gentlemen who were to have
fought it were shaking hands like ordinary mortals, and the lady
for whom they were going to fight was walking between them,
and all three were smiling and talking together like excellent
friends.

Thus, then, did I heal up the quarrel between Harry Temple
and my lord. It would have grieved me sore had poor Harry,
almost my brother, been wounded or killed ; but what would have
been my lot had my lover fallen ?

Three suitors had I rejected in a month, and a lover had I
gained, who was also, though this I never ventured to confess, my
husband. Eut there was one man whom I had forgotten quite,
and he was destined to be the cause of the greatest trouble of all.
Who would have believed that Will Levett would have dared to
call himself my accepted lover ? Who would have believed that
this sot, this stable and kennel haunter, would have remembered
me for a whole year, and would have come to Epsom in the full
confidence that he was coming to claim a bride P

CHAPTEE XIX.

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED.

Thus was Harry Temple at last pacified and brought to reason.
In the course of a short time he was so far recovered from his
passion as to declare his love for another woman, whom he

254 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

married. This shows how fickle and fleeting are the affections of
most men compared with those of women; for I am trulv of
opinion that no woman can love more than one man in herlife,
while a man appears capable of loving as many as he pleases all at
once or in turn, as the fancy seizes him. Could Solomon have
loved in very truth the whole seven hundred ?

When I was no longer harassed by Harry's gloomy face and
jealous reproaches, I thought that the time was come when I
ought to consider how I should impart to my lord a knowledge of
the truth, and I said to myself, day after day : ' To-morrow morn-
ing I will do it ;' and in the morning I said : ' Nay, but in the
evening.' And sometimes I thought to write it, and sometimes
to tell it him by word of mouth. Yet the days passed and I did
not tell him, being a coward, and rejoicing in the sunshine of his
Jove and kindness, which I could not bear to lose or put in any
dan ger.

And now you shall hear how this delay was the cause of a most
dreadful accident, which had well-nigh ruined and lost us alto-
gether.

I could not but remember, when Harry Temple reproached me
with falsehood and faithlessness, that Will Levett had made use
of nearly the same words, making allowance for Will's rusticity.
The suspicion did certainly cross my mind, more than once, that
Will may have meant (though I understood him not) the same
thing as Harry. And I remembered how he pulled a sixpence
out of his pocket and gave me the half, which I threw upon the
table unlieeding, though every girl knows that a broken sixpence
is a pledge of betrothal. But I was in such great trouble and
anxiety, that I thought nothing of it and remembered nothing for
long afterwards. Yet if Harry came to claim a supposed promise
at my hands, why should not Will? which would be a thing much
worse to meet, because Harry was now amenable to reason, and
by means of the strait-waistcoat and bucket of cold water, with a
little talk, I had persuaded him to adopt a wiser course. But no
reason ever availed anything with Will, save the reason of desire
or the opposition of superior force. As a boy, he took everything
he wanted, unless he could be prevented by a hearty flogging;
and he bullied every other boy save those who could by superior
strength compel him to behave properly. I have already shown
how he treated us when we were children and when we had grotfn
up to be great girls. So that, with this suspicion, and remem-
bering Will's dreadful temper and his masterfulness, I felt uneasy
indeed when Nancy told me that her brother was coming to
Epsom.

' We shall be horribly ashamed of him,' she said, laughing,
though vexed. ' Indeed, I doubt if we shall be able to show our
faces on the Terrace, after Will has been here a day or two. Be-
cause, my dear, he will thrash the men-servants, kiss the girls,

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 255

insult the company — some of whom will certainly run him through
the body, while some he will beat with his cudgel — get drunk in
the taverns, and run an Indian muck through the dance at the
Assembly Kooms. I have told my father that the best thing for
him to do is to pretend that Will is no relation of ours at all, only
a rustic from our parish bearing the same name ; or perhaps we
might go on a visit to London for a fortnight, so as to get out of
his way; and that, I think, would be the best. Kitty! think of
Will marching up and down the Terrace, a dozen dogs after him,
his wig uncombed, his hunting- coat stained with mud, halloing
and bawling as he goes, canning an enormous club like Hercules
— he certainly is very much like Hercules — his mouth full of
countrified oaths. However, he does not like fine folks, and will
not often show among us. And while we are dancing in the
rooms, he w ill be sitting at the door of a tavern mostly, smoking a
pipe of tobacco and taking a mug of October with any who will
sit beside him and hear his tales of badgers, ferrets, and dogs.
Well, fortunately, no one can deny the good blood of the Levetts,
which will, we hope, come out again in Will's children ; and my
father is a baronet of James the First's creation, otherwise it would
go hard with our gentility.'

' When do you expect him to come ?'

'He sends word that he may come to-night or to-morrow, bring-
ing with him a horse which he proposes to match upon the Downs
with any horse at Epsom for thirty guineas a side. One match
has been already fixed, and will be run the next day, provided
both horses are fresh. I hope Will will not cheat, as he was ac-
cused of doing at M aidstone., I suppose we shall all have to go to the
Downs to see. Why do men like horse-racing, I wonder P Crack;
goes the whip, the horses rush past, the people shout, the race is
over. Give me enjoyment which lasts a little longer, such as a good
country dance, or a few words with Peggy Baker on the Terrace.'

' Does Will know that I am here V I asked.

' I suppose not/ she replied. ' Why, my dear, how is Will to
know anything ? My father laid out large sums upon his educa-
tion. Yet the end cf all is that he never reads anything, not even
books on Farriery. As for letters, he is well known not to read
those which my mother sometimes sends him ; and as for sending
any himself, I believe he has forgotten the art of writing. He
docs everything by word of mouth, like the savages. Perhaps he
remembers how to read, because he cannot forget his sufferings
ovi.-r the criss-cross-row and horn-book. Will, Kitty, is an early
Priton ; he should be dressed in wool and painted with woad ; he
lives by preference in a stable or a kennel ; he ought to have tho
body and tail and legs of a horse, then he could stay in the stable
altogether and be happy.'

Perhaps, I thought, he would not know me a?aia. Satin this
I was deceived, as shall be presently shown.

256 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

Well, then, knowing that Nancy would help me in this possibls
trouble, I told her exactly what happened between Will and myself
just as I had told hey about Harry, and asked her advice.

It might be that Will had clean forgotten his words, or it nnVht
be that he had changed his mind ; he might have fallen in love with
some girl of the village, or he might find me changed and no longer
care for pressing his suit.

Nancy looked grave.

' My brother Will,' she said, ' is as obstinate as he is pigheaded. I
am afraid he will expect you to fulfil the engagement which he may
think he has made. Never mind, my dear ; do not think of it to
distress yourself. If he is obstinate, so are you. He cannot many
you against your will.'

He came the next morning, riding into town, followed by two
servants, one of whom led the famous horse which was to ride the
race.

' There,' whispered Nancy, ' is my brother Will.'

We were standing in the church porch after morning prayers,
when he came clattering down the street. He was really a hand-
some man for those who like a man to be like Hercules for strength,
to have full rosy cheeks which later in life become fat and purple,
a resolute eye, and a strong, straight chin which means obstinacy.

' Oh, how strong he is !' said Nancy, looking after him. ' He
could crush together half-a-dozen of our beaux and fribbles between
his fingers, and break all their ribs with a single flourish of his cudgel.
Well, Will !' she added, as her brother rode out of sight, 'we shall
meet at dinner, I dare say. Do you remember, Kitty, how he would
tease and torment us, and make us cry 1 There ought to be nc
brothers and sisters at all — the girls should grow up in one house
and the boys in another — they should never meet till they are olc
enough to be lovers, and never be together when they are too olo
to be lovers. Fancy the stupidity of philosophers in putting mei
and women under the same name and calling us all humanity, o:
mankind, as their impudent way is of putting it. What have thei
in common ? Man drinks, and gambles, and rights — woman sits a
home and loves peace and moderation : man wastes— woman saves
man loves to admire — we love to be admired. What single qualit;
have we in common except a desire to be amiable and seem pleasin;
to the other sex V

' Very likely,' I replied, thinking of something else. ' No doub
he has long since forgotten the sixpence. No doubt he thinks ni
more of me or the sixpence either.'

I saw nothing of him that day, becauae he had so much to do witl
his stable, and so much to attend to in the matter of his ra«
that he did not appear upon the Terrace or at the Assembly Room
Harry Temple shrugged his shoulders when I asked him if he hat
seen Will.

* I saw him,' he said, ' engaged in his usual occupations. He hai

NOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 2£

just cudgelled a stable-boy, was swearing at a groom, rubbing down
his racehorse with his own hands, and superintending the prepara-
tion of a warm mash for his hack. He seems perfectly happy.'

It was agreed, in spite of my fears, that we should make a party
to see this race the next morniug. Nowadays it is no longer the
mode to seek health at Epsom Wells and on Banstead Downs. The
votaries of fashion go to Bath and Tunbridge ; the old Wells are
deserted, I hear that the Assembly Booms have fallen into decay,
and there are no longer the Monday public breakfast, the card-table,
the music, the dancing, which made the place a little heaven for the
young in those times when I myself was young. But in one respect
Epsom has grown more frequented and more renowned every
year :

' On Epsom Downs, when racing does begin,
Large companies from every part come in.'

The spring races were in April, and the summer races in June ; but
there was a constant racing all the year round with the horses of
country gentlemen. They would bring them to make matches with
all comers, at such stakes as they could afford to venture on the
horses ; and in the morning the company would crowd upon the
Downs in goodly numbers to bet upon the race, and shout to the
winner. Sometimes ladies would go too ; not out of any love for
the sport, or interest in horses, but to please their lovers— a desire
which is the cause of many a pretty maid's sudden liking for some
manly sport. I have known them even show an interest in such
rough sports as hadger-drawing and otter-hunting : they have been
seen to ride after hounds in the midst of the hallos and horns of the
hunters : they have even gone with the gentlemen on shooting-
parties. Thus there were plenty of girls at Epsom ready to please
their gallants by standing about on the Downs (where the wiud
plays havoc with powder and paint, and destroys irretrievably the
fabric of a head), while the panting horses were spurred over the
long course by the jockeys, and the backers cried and shouted.

Lord Chudleigh took little joy in this kind of sport, which, per-
haps, is a reason why I also disliked the sight. Nancy, also, as well
lt 8 myself, cared but little to see this famous Epsom sport ; nor, in-
deed, did any of the ladies who formed part of our more intimate
company. But on this occasion, as Will was to run a three-year-old
of his own training, and as he was going to ride the horse himself,
and had staked thirty guineas (beside bets) upon the event, it was
judged a duty owed to him by the family that all should go. Mrs.
Esther went out of respect to Lady Levett ; Mr. Stallabras, because
he remembered how Pindar had sung of the Olympian Games, and
was suddenly fired with the desire of writing a Pindaric Ode upon
the Epsom contests. Now, it behoves a poet who shags of a horse-
race, first to witness one. Therefore he came to see how it would
lend itself to modern metaphor. Sir Miles came because he could

17

258 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

get the chance of a few bets upon the race, and because, when there
were no cards to the fore, he liked, he said, to hear me talk. Harry
Temple came, grumbling and protesting that for men of learning and
fashion nothing was more barbarous and tedious than this sport.
Could we have had chariot-racing, with athletic games after the
manner of the ancients, he would have been pleased. As it was, he
hoped that "Will would win, but feared that a clown and his money
were soon parted ; with other remarks equally good-natured.

The race was to be run at half-past eleven. We had chairs for
such as preferred being carried, but the younger ladies walked. "We
made a gallant procession as we came upon the course, all the ladies
wearing Will's colours, which were red and blue. They had railed
off a piece of ground where the better sort could stand without being
molested by the crowd which always congregates when a great race
is to be run. Indeed, on this occasion, it seemed as if all the idle
fellows for twenty miles round had gathered together on the Downs
with one consent, and with them half the rustics of the villages, the
tradesmen and workmen of Epsom, Leatherhead, and Dorking, and
the greater part of the company at the Wells. There were gipsies
to tell our fortunes or steal our poultry — but I, for one, had had
enough already of fortune-telling from the tent of the pretended
Wizard of the masquerade : there were Italians leading a hear :
there were a couple of rough men with a bull which was presently
to be baited : a canvas enclosure was run up on poles, within which
the Cornish giant would wrestle all comers at sixpence a throw :
another, where a prize-fight would be held, admittance one shilling,
with twopence each for the defeated man : a puppet play was shown
for a penny : for twopence you might see a rare piece of art, the
subject of which I know not : and in wax, the histories of Fair
Rosamond and Susanna. Other amusements there were. I, at first,
took all in honour of Will and his race, but presently learned that a
fair had been held at Leatherhead the day before, and that these
people, hearing of what was forward, came over to get what could
be picked up. And, as one fool makes many, the knowledge of their
coming, with the race for an excuse, brought out all the country
people, mouth agape, as is their wont.

The horses presently rode out of the paddock — a place where they
weigh, dress, put on the saddles, and adjust the preliminaries. Will
in his cap pulled over his ears like a nightcap (because a jockey wears
no wig), and in silk jacket, stiiped with blue and red, riding as if he
was part of the animal he sat, looked in his true place. Ever after
I have thought of the gallant show he made, while with left hand
holding the whip, he bridled the beautiful creature, which but for
his control would have been bounding and galloping over the plain.
But they explained to us that racehorses know when racing is meant,
and behave accordingly, save that they cannot always be refrained
frciru starting before the time.

Will's rival and competitor, whose name I forget (but I had never

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 259

seen him before), was a man of slighter figure, who rode equally
well, but did not at the same time appear to such advantage on horse-
back. Lord Chudleigh explained to us that while Will rode naturally,
sitting his horse as if he understood what the creature wished to
do, and where he wanted to go ; the other man sat him by rule of
thumb, as if the horse was to understand his master and not the
master his horse. I have ridden a great deal since then, and I know,
now, the justice of my lord's remarks, though I own that this per-
fect understanding between horse and rider is not commonly found ;
and for my own part I remember but one horse, three parts Arabian,
with which I ever arrived at a complete understanding. Even with
him the understanding was onesided, and ended in his always going
whithersoever he pleased.

The adversary's colours were white and green ; pretty colours,
though bad for the complexion of women ; so that I was glad Will's
were suited to the roses of our cheeks.

They began by riding up and down for a quarter of an hour, Will
looking mighty important, stroking his horse, patting his neck, talk-
ing to him, checking him when he broke into a canter or a gallop.
The other man (he in white and green) had trouble to keep his horse
from fairly bolting with him, which he did for a little distance more
than once.

Then the starters took their places, and the judge his, in front of
tlie winning-post, and the horses started.

White and green led for a quarter of a mile ; but Will was close
behind : it was pretty to see the eagerness of the horses — how they
pressed forward with straining necks.

' Will is holding back,' cried Harry, with flashing eyes. ' Wait
till they are over the hill.'

' I feel like Pindar,' cried Mr. Stallabras. ' Would that Mr.
Levett was Hiero of Syracuse !'

' Will !' exclaimed Nancy, as if he could hear. ' Spur up your
horse ! If you lose the race, I will never forgive you.'

We all stood with parted lips and beating hearts. Yes ; we un-
derstood the joy of horse-racing : the uncertainty of the struggle :
the ambition of the noble creatures : the eagerness of the riders :
their skill : their coolness : the shouts of the people — ah ! the race
is over.

Just before the finish, say two hundred yards the other side of
the winning-post, Will rose in his saddle, plied whip, and cried to
his horse. It answered with a rush, as if struck by a sudden deter-
mination to be first : the other horse, a little tired perhaps, bounded
onwards as well ; but Will took the lead and kept it. In a moment
the race was finished, and AVill rode gallantly past us, ahead by a
whole length, amid the cheers and applause of the people.

When the race was finished the visitors ran backward and for-
wards, congratulating or condoling with each other. Many a long
face was pulled as the bets were paid ; many a jolly face broadened

17—2

260 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

and became more jolly as the money went into pocket. And then
I saw what is meant by the old saying about money made over the
devil's back. For those who lost, lost outright, which cannot be
denied : but those who won immediately took their friends to the
booths where beer and wine and rum were sold, and straightway
got rid of a portion of their winnings. No doubt the rest went in
the course of the day in debauchery. So that the money won upon
the race benefited no one except the people who sold drink. And
they, to my mind, are the last persons whom one would wish to
benefit, considering what a dreadful thing in this country is the
curse of drink.

If Will looked a gallant rider on horseback, he cut hut a sorry
figure among the gentlemen when he came forth from the paddock,
haviDg taken off his jacket and put on again his wig, coat, and
waistcoat. For he walked heavily, rolling in his gait (as a plough-
boy, not a sailor), and his clothes were muddy and disordered,
while his wig was awry. Lady Levett beckoned to him, and he
came towards us sheepishly bold, as is the way with rustic gentlemen.

' So, Will,' shouted his father, heartily, ' thou hast won the match.
Well rode, my boy !'

' Well rode !' cried all. ' Well rode !'

He received our congratulations with a grin of satisfaction, salut-
ing the company with a grin, and his knuckles to his forehead like
a jockey. On recovering, he examined us all leisurely.

' Aye,' he said. ' There you are, Harry, talking to the women
about books and poetry and stuff. What good is that when a race
is on ? Might as well have stayed at Cambridge. Well, Nancy—
oh ! I warrant you, so fine as no one in the country would know

you. Fine feathers make fine birds, and ' here he saw me, and

stared hard with his mouth open. ' Gad so ! — it's Kitty ! Hoop !
Hollo !' Upon this he put both hands to his mouth and raised such
a shout that we all stopped our ears, and the dogs barked and ran
about furiously, as if in search of a fox. ' Found again ! Kitty,
I am right glad to see thee. Did I ride well 1 Were you proud
to see me coming in by a neck 1 Thinks I, " I don't care who's
looking on, but I'll show them Will Levett knows how to ride."
If I'd known it was you I would have landed the stakes by three
clear lengths, I would. Let me look at thee, Kitty. Now, gentle-
men, by your leave.' He shoved aside Lord Chudleigh, and Harry,
and pushed between them. 'Let me look at thee well— ay ! more
fine feathers — but' — here he swore great oaths — 'there never was
anything beneath them but the finest of birds ever hatched.'

' Thank you, Will, for the compliment,' I began.

' Why, if anyone should compliment you, Kitty, who but I V

I thought of the broken sixpence, and trembled.

' A most pretty speech indeed,' said Peggy Baker. ' Another of
Miss Pleydell's swains, I suppose V

' My brother,' said Nancy, ' has been Kitty's swain since he waa

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 261

old enough to walk ; that is, about the time when Kitty was born.
He is as old a swain as Mr. Temple here.'

' I don't know naught about swains,' said Will, ' but I'm Kitty's
sweetheart. And if any man says nay to that, why let him step to
the front, and we'll have that business settled on the grass, and no
time wasted.'

' Brother,' cried Nancy, greatly incensed by a remark of such low
breeding, ' remember that you are here among gentlemen, who do
not fight with cudgels and fists for the favours of ladies.'

' Nay, dear Miss Levett,' said Peggy, laughing ; ' I find Mr.
William vastly amusing. No doubt we might have a contest, a
tournament after the manner of the ancients, with Miss Pleydell as
the Queen of Beauty, to give her favours to the conquering knight.
I believe we can often witness a battle with swords and pistols, if
we get up early enough, in Hyde Park ; but a duel with fists and
cudgels would be much more entertaining.'

' Thank you, miss,' said Will. ' I should like to see the man who
would stand up against me.'

' I think,' Lord Chudleigh interposed, ' that as no one is likely to
gratify this gentleman's strange invitation, ' we may return to the
town. Miss Pleydell, we wait your orders.'

Will was about to say something rude, when his sister seized him
by the arm and whispered in his ear.

' O Lord ! a lord !' he cried. ' I beg your lordship's pardon.
There, that is just like you, Nancy, not to tell me at the beginning.
Well, Kitty, I am going to look after the horse. Then I will come
to see thee.'

' Your admirer is a bucolic of an order not often found among the
sons of such country gentlemen as Sir Robert Levett,' said Lord
Chudleigh, presently.

' He is addicted to horses and dogs, and he seems to consider that
he may claim — or show— some sort of equal attachment to me,' I
answered.

Then I told him the story of the broken sixpence, and how I
became engaged, without knowing it, to both Harry Temple and
Will Levett on the same day.

My lord laughed, and then became grave.

' I do not wonder,' he said, ' that all classes of men have fallen in
love with the sweetest and most charming of her sex. That does
not surprise me. Still, though we have disposed of Mr. Temple,
who is, I am bound to say, a gentleman open to reason, there may
be more trouble with this headstrong country lad, who is evidently
in sober earnest, as I saw from his eyes. What shall we do, Kitty V

' My lord,' I whispered, ' let me advise for your safety. Withdraw
yourself for a while from Epsom. Give up Durdans and go to
London. I could not bear to see you embroiled with this rude and
boisterous clown. Oh, how could such a woman as Lady Levett
have such a sou 1 Leave me to deal with him as best I can.'

8')2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

But he laughed at this. To be sure, fear had no part in the
composition of this noble, this incomparable man.

'Should I run away because a rustic says he loves my Kitty?
But then his forehead clouded again. ' Yet, alas ! for my folly and
my crime, I may not call her my Kitty.'

' Oh yes, my lord ! Call me always thine. Indeed, I am all
thine own, if only I could think myself worthy.'

We were walking together, the others a little distance behind us,
and he could do no more than touch my fingers with his own.
Alas! the very touch of his fingers caused a delightful tremor to
run through my veins— so helplessly, so deeply was I in lovewith him.

Thus we walked, not hand-in-hand, yet from time to time our
hands met : and thus we talked, not as betrothed lovers, yet as
lovers : thus my lord spoke to me, confiding to me his most secret
affairs, his projects, and his ambitions, as no man can tell them save
to a woman whom he loves. Truly, it was a sweet and delicious
time. I fondly turn to it now, after so many years, not, heaven
knows ! with regret, any more than September, rich in golden
harvest and laden orchards, regrets the sweet and tender April
when all the gardens were white and pink with the blossoms of
plum and pear and apple, and the fields were green with the
springing barley, oats, and wheat. Yet a dear, delightful time, only
spoiled by that skeleton in the cupboard, that consciousness that the
only person who stood between my lord and his happiness was—
the woman he loved. Heard man ever so strange, so pitiful a case I

At the foot of the hill Lord Chudleigh left ns, and turned in the
direction of Durdans, where he remained all that day, coming not
to the Assembly in the evening. Mrs. Esther and I went home
together to dinner, and I know not who was the better pleased with
the sport and the gaiety of the morning, my kind madam or
Cicely, the maid, who hadbeen upon the Downs and had her fortune
told by the gipsies, and it was a good one.

' But, my dear,' said Mrs. Esther, ' it is strange indeed that so
loutish and countrified a bumpkin should be the son of parents so
well-bred as Sir Robert and Lady Levett.'

' Yet,' I said, ' the loutish bumpkin would have me marry him.
Dear lady, would you wish your Kitty to be the wife of a man who
loves the stable first, the kennel next, and his wife after his horses
and his dogs V

After dinner, as I expected, Will Levett called in person. He
had been drinking strong ale with his dinner, and his speech was
thick.

' Your servant, madam,' he said to Mrs. Esther. ' I want speech,

if I may have it, with Miss Kitty, alone by herself, for all she sits

with her ringer in her mouth yonder, as if she was not jumping with

joy to see me again.'

' Sir !' I cried.

' Oh ! I know your ways and tricks. No use pretending with

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 263

me, Yet I like them to be skittish. It is their nature to. For all
your fine frocks, you're none of you any better than Molly the
blacksmith's girl, or Sukey at the Mill. Never mind, my girl. Be
as fresh and frolic as you please. I like you the better for it —
before we are married."

' Kitty dear,' cried Mrs. Esther in alarm, ' what does this gentle-
man mean V

' I do not know, dear madam. Pray, Will, if you can, explain
■what you mean.'

' Explain ? explain ? Why ' here he swore again, but I will

not write down his profane and wicked language. Suffice it to say
that he called heaven and earth to witness his astonishment. ' Why,
you mean to look me in the face and tell me you don't know V

' We are old friends, Will/ I said, ' and I should like, for Nancy's
sake, and because Lady Levett has been almost a mother to me, out
of her extreme kindness, that we should remain friends. But when
a gentleman salutes me before a company of gentlemen and ladies
as his sweetheart, when he talks of fighting other gentlemen — like

a rustic on a village green '

' Wouldst have me fight with swords and likely as not get killed,
then V he asked.

' When he assumes these rights over me, I can ask, I think, for
an explanation.'

'Certainly, said Mrs. Esther. 'We are grieved, sir, to have
even a moment's disagreement with the son of so honourable a
gentleman and so gracious a lady as your respected father and
worthy mother, but you will acknowledge that your behaviour on
the Downs was startling to a young woman of such strict propriety
as my dear Kitty.'

He looked from one to the other as if in a dream.
Then he put his hand into his pocket and dragged out the half
sixpence.

' What's that V he asked me, furiously.
' A broken sixpence, Will,' I replied.
' Where is the other half V

' Perhaps where it was left, on the table in the parlour of the
Vicarage.'

'What!' he cried ; 'do you mean to say that you didn't break
the sixpence with me V

' Do you mean to say, Will, that I did ? As for your breaking it,
I do not deny that : I remember that you snapped it between your
fingers_ without asking me anything about it ; but to say that I
broke it, or assented to your breaking it, or carried away the other
half— Fie, Will, fie !'

' This wench,' he said, 'is enough to drive a man mad. Yet, for
all your fine clothes and your paint and powder, Mistress Kitty,
I've promised to marry you. And marry you I will, Pat that in
your pipe, now.'

264 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Marry me against my consent, Will ? That can hardly be.'
'Is it possible,' cried Mrs. Esther, seriously displeased, 'that we
have in this rude and discourteous person a son of Sir Eobert
Levett V

' I never was crossed by woman or man or puppy yet,' cried Will
doggedly, and taking no notice whatever of Mrs. Esther's rebuke;
' and I never will be ! Why, for a whole year and more I've been
making preparations for it. I've broke in the colt out of Rosamund
by Samson and called him Kit. for you to ride. I've told the people
round, so as anybody knows there's no pride in me, that I'm going

to marry a parson's girl, without a farden, thof a baronet to be '

Will easily dropped into rustic language, where I do not always
follow him.

' Oh, thank you, Will. That is kind indeed. But I would rather
see you show the pride due to your rank and birth. You ought
to refuse to marry a parson's girl. Or, if you are resolved to cast
away your pride, there's many a farmer's girl — there's Jenny of the
Mill, or the blacksmith's Sue : more proper persons for you, lain
sure, and more congenial to your tastes than the parson's girl.'

' I don't mind your sneering— not a whit, I don't,' he replied.
' Wait till we're married, and I warrant you shall see who's got the
upper hand ! There'll be mighty little sneering then, I promise
you.'

This brutal and barbarous speech made me angry.
' Now, Will,' I said, ' get up and go away. We have had enough
of your rustic insolence. Why, sir, it is a disgrace that a gentleman
should be such a clown. Go away from Epsom : leave a company
for which your rudeness and ill-temper do not fit you : go back to
your mug-house, your pipe, your stables, and your kennels. If you
think of marrying, wed with one of your own rank. Do you hear,
sir? one of your own rank ! Gentle born though you are, clown
and churl is your nature. As for me, I was never promised to you ;
and if I had been, the spectacle of this amazing insolence would
break a thousand promises.'

He answered by an oath. But his eyes were full of dogged
determination which I knew of old ; and I was terrified, wondering
what he would do.

' I remember, when you were a boy, your self-will and heedless-
ness of your sister and myself. But we are grown up now, sir, as
well as yourself, and you shall find that we are no longer your

servants. What ! am I to marry this clown '

' You shall pay for this !' said Will. ' Wait a bit ; you shall pay !'
'Am I to obey the command of this rude barbarian, and become
his wife ; not to cross him, but to obey him in all his moods, because
he wills it 1 Are you, pray, the Great Bashaw V

' Mr. Levett,' said Mrs. Esther, ' I think you had better go. The
Kitty you knew was a young and tender child ; she is now a grown
woman, with. I am happy to say, a resolution of her own. Nor is

HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED. 265

she the penniless girl that you suppose, but my heiress ; though not
a Pimpernel by blood, yet a member of as good and honourable a
house as yourself.'

He swore again in his clumsy country fashion that he never yet
■was baulked by woman, and would yet have his way ; whereas, so
far as he was a prophet (I am translating his rustic language into
polite English) those who attempted to say him nay would in the
loDg-run find reason to repent with bitterness their own mistaken
action. All his friends, he said, knew Will Levett. No white-
handed, slobbering, tea-drinking hanger-on to petticoats was he ;
not so : he was very well known to entertain that contempt for
women which is due to a man who values his self-respect and scorns
lies, finery, and make-believe fine speeches. And it was also very
well known to all the country-side that, give him but a fleer and a
flout, he was ready with a cuff side o' the head ; and if more was
wanted, with a yard of tough ash, or a fist that weighed more than
most. As for drink, he could toss it off with the best, and carry as
much ; as for racing, we had seen what he could do and how gallant
a rider he was ; and for hunting, shooting, badger-baiting, bull-
baiting, dog-fighting, and cocking, there was not, he was ready to
assure us, his match in all the country. Why, then, should a man,
of whom his country was proud — no mealy-mouthed, Frenchified,
fine gentleman, of whom he would fight a dozen at once, so great
was his courage — be sent about his business by a couple of women ?
He would let us know ! He pitied our want of discernment, and
was sorry for the sufferings which it would bring upon one of us,
meaning Kitty ; of which sufferings he was himself to be the instru-
ment.

When he had finished this harangue he banged out of the room
furiously, and we heard him swearing on the stairs and in the pas-
sage, insomuch that Cicely and her mother came up from the kitchen,
and the former threatened to bring up her mop if he did not in-
stantly withdraw or cease from terrifying the ladies by such dreadful
words.

' My dear/ said Mrs. Esther, 'we have heard, alas! so many oatha
that we do not greatly fear them. Yet this young man is violent,
and I will to Lady Levett, there to complain about her son.'

She put on her hat, and instantly walked to Sir Eobert's lodgings,
when before the baronet, Lady Levett, and Nancy she laid her tale.

' I know not,' said Lady Levitt, weeping, ' what hath made our
eon so self-willed and so rustical. Erom a child he has chosen the
kennel rather than the hall, and stable-boys for companions rather
than gentlemen '

'Will is rough,' said his father, 'but I cannot believe that he
would do any hurt to Kitty, whom he hath known (and perhaps in
his way loved) for so long.'

' Will is obstinate,' said Nancy, ' and he is proud and revengeful.
3e has told all his friends that he was about to marry Kitty. When

266 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

he goes home again he will have to confess that he has been sent
away.'

' Yet it would be a great match for Kitty/ said "Will's mother.

' No, madam, with submission,' said Mrs. Esther. ' The disparity
of rank is not so great, as your ladyship will own, and Kitty will
have all my money. The real disparity is incompatibility of sentiment.'

' Father,' said Nancy, ' you must talk to Will. And Mrs. Pim-
pernel, take care that Kitty be well guarded.'

Sir Robert remonstrated with his son. He pointed out, in plain
terms, that the language he had used and the threats he had made
were such as to show him to be entirely unfitted to be the husband
of any gentlewoman : that Kitty was, he had reason to believe, pro-
mised to another man : that it was absurd of him to suppose that a
claim could be founded on words addressed to a child overcome with
grief at the death of her father. He spoke gravely and seriously,
but he might have preached to the pigs for all the good he did.

"Will replied that be meant to marry Kitty, and he would marry
her : that he would brain any man who stood in his way : that he
never yet was crossed by a woman, and he never would ; with more
to the same effect, forgetting the respect due to his father.

Sir Robert, not losing his patience, as he would have been per-
fectly justified in doing, went on to remonstrate with his son upon
the position which he was born to illustrate, and the duties which
that involved. Foremost among these, he said, were respect and
deference to the weaker sex. Savages and barbarous men, he re-
minded him, use women with as little consideration as they use
slaves ; indeed, because women are weak, they are, among wild
tribes, slaves by birth. ' But,' he said, 'for a gentleman in this age
of politeness to speak of forcing a lady to marry him against her will
is a thing unheard of.'

' "Why, lad,' he continued, 'when I was at thy years, I would have
scorned to think of a woman whose affections were otherwise
bestowed. It would have been a thing due to my own dignity, if
not to the laws of society, to leave her and look elsewhere. And
what hath poor Kitty done, I pray ? Mistaken an offer of marriage
(being then a mere child and chit of sixteen) for an offer of friend-
ship. Will, Will, turn thy heart to a better mood.'

Will said that it was no use talking, because his mind was made
Tip: that he was a true Kentishman, and a British bull-dog. Holdfast
was his name : when he made up his mind that he was going to
get anything, that thing he would have : that, as for Kitty, he could
no more show himself back upon the village-green, or in the village
inn, or at any cock-lighting, bull-baiting, badger-drawing, or horse-
race in the country-side, unless he had brought home K itty as his
wife. Wherefore, he wanted no more ado, but let the girl come to
her right mind, and follow to heel, when she would find him (give
him his own way, and no cursed contrariness) the best husband in
the world. But, if not

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 267

Then Sir Robert spoke to other purpose. If, he told his son, he
molested Kitty in any way whatever, he would, in his capacity as
justice of the peace, have him instantly turned out of the town ; if
he offered her any insult, or showed the least violence to her friends,
he promised him, upon his honour, to disinherit him.

' You may drink and smoke tobacco with your grooms and stable-
boys at home,' he said. ' I have long been resigned to that. But if
you disgrace your name in this place, as sure as you bear that name,
you shall no longer be heir to aught but a barren title.'

Will answered not, but walked away with dogged looka.

CHAPTER XX.

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED.

I KNOW not what Will proposed to himself when his father at first
admonished him ; perhaps, one knows not, he even tried to set
before himself the reasonableness of his father's rebuke ; perhaps,
as the sequel seems to show, he kept silence, resolving to have his
own way somehow.

However that might be, Will ceased to molest me for the time,
and I was even in hopes that he had seen the hopelessness of his
desires. Our days went on without any other visits from him, and
he did not seek me out upon the Terrace or in the Assembly Rooms.

Poor Nancy's predictions were, however, entirely fulfilled. For
Will could not, by any persuasion of hers, be induced at first to
abstain from showing himself in public. To be sure, he did not
'run an Indian muck' among the dancers, but he became the terror
of the whole company for a rough boorishness which was certainly
unknown before in any polite assembly. He did not try to be even
decently polite : he was boorish, not like a boor, but like a Czar of
Russia, with a proud sense of his own position ; he behaved as if he
were, at Epsom Wells, the young squire among the villagers who
looked up to him as their hero and natural king. If he walked upon
the Terrace he pushed and elbowed the men, he jolted the ladies, he
stepped upon trains, pushed aside dangling canes and deranged wigs,
as if nobody was to be considered when he was present. Sometimes
he went into the card-room and took a hand ; then, if he was
tempted to give his antagonist the lie direct, he gave it ; or if he
lost, he said rude things about honesty ; and he was so strong, and
carried so big a cudgel, that for a time nobody dared to check him.
Because, you see, by Nash's orders, the gentlemen wore no swords.
Now, although it is possible to challenge a man and run him through,
■what are you to do with one who perhaps would refuse a challenge,
yet would, on provocation, being horribly strong, cudgel his adversary

268 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

on the spot ? Of course, this kind of thing could not last ; it went
on just as long as the forbearance of the gentlemen allowed, and
then was brought to an end. As for Will, during the first few days
he had not the least consideration for anyone ; all was to give way
to his caprice.

I have already remarked upon the very singular love which young
men of all ranks seem to have for chucking under the chin young
women of the lower classes. It was very well known at Epsom
Wells that many gentlemen rose early in the morning in order to
enjoy this pastime upon the chins of the higglers who brought the
fruit, eggs, fowls, and vegetables from the farmhouses. From six
to nine chin-chucking, not actually upon the Parade aud the Terrace,
but close by, among the trees, on the steps of houses, beside the
pond, was an amusement in full flow. Many of the higglers were
comely red-cheeked damsels who thought it line thus to be noticed
by the quality, and I suppose no harm came of it all, save a little
pampering of the conceit and vanity of young girls, so that they
might dream of gentlemen instead of yeomen, and aspire beyond
their rank instead of remembering the words of the Catechism to
' learn and labour to do their duty in their own station of life.' To
attract the attention of a dozen young fellows : to have them fol-
lowing one about, even though one carried a basket full of eggs for
sale : to listen to their compliments : to endure that chin-chucking
— I suppose these things were to the taste of the girls, because, as
Cicely told me, there was great competition among them who should
caiTy the basket to the Wells. Now Master Will was quite at home,
from his village experiences, with this pastime, and speedily fell in
■with it, to the annoyance and discomfiture of the London beaux and
fribbles. For, still acting upon the principles that Epsom was his
own parish, the village where he was Sultan, Great Bashaw, Heyduc,
or Grand Seigneur, he at once took upon himself the right of paying
these attentions to any or all of the damsels, without reference to
previous preferences. This, which exasperated the fair higglers,
drove the beaux nearly mad. Yet, because he was so strong and
his cudgel was so thick, none durst interfere.

I have since thought, in reflecting over poor Will's history, that
there are very few positions in life more dangerous to a young man
than that of the only son of a country squire, to have no tastes for
learning and polite society, and to live constantly on the estate.
For among the rough farmers and labourers there can be no opposi-
tion or public feeling upon the conduct, however foolish aud mi-
governed, of such a young man ; the rustics and clowns are his very
humble servants, nay, almost his slaves ; they tremble at his frown ;
if he lifts his stick they expect a cudgelling ; as for the women and
girls of the village, the poor things are simply honoured by a nod
and a word ; the estate will be his, the fluids will be his, the
cottages his ; the hares, rabbits, partridges, pheasants will be his ;
even the very men and women will be his, nay, are his already.

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 269

Wherever lie goes he is saluted ; even in the church, the people rise
to do him reverence ; hats are doffed and reverence paid if he walks
the fields, or rides upon the roads ; every day, supposing he is so
unhappy as to remain always upon his own estate, he is made to feel
his greatness until he comes to believe, like King Louis XV him-
self, that there is no one in the world but must bow to his order,
nothing that he desires but he must have. And, speaking with the
respect due to my benefactors, I think that Sir Eobert, a man him-
self of singular good feeling and high breeding, was greatly to
blame in not sending his son to travel, or in some way to make him
mix with his equals and superiors. For such a character as Will's
is formed insensibly. A man does not become selfish and boorish all
at once. Therefore, his parents did not notice, until it was forced
upon them, what all the world deplored — the self-will and boorish-
ness of their only son. To the last I think that Lady Levett looked
upon him as a young man of excellent heart, though stubborn.

' You shall marry me,' he had said. Therefore it was war to the
death, because, as you all know, I could not possibly marry him.

It was no secret at Epsom that this young autocrat had said those
words ; in fact, he used them in public, insulting Harry Temple
upon the very Terrace before all the company.

' I warn you,' he said, ' keep away from Kitty. She's going to be
my wife. I've told her so. Therefore, hands off.'

'Why, Will,' Harry replied good-naturedly, ' what if she refuses?'

' She shan't refuse. I've said she shall marry me, and she shall,'
he replied. ' Eefuse ? It's only her whimsical tricks. All fillies
are alike. Hands off, Master Harry.'

' Why,' cried Peggy Baker, ' what a pretty, genteel speech, to be
sure ! Oh, Mr. Levett, happy is the woman who will be your wife !
Such kindness of disposition ! such sweetness ! such gallantry !
such sensibility !'

' I know what you mean,' said Will, swearing a big oath ; ' and I
don't value your words nor your opinion — no — not a brass farden,
no more than I value your powder, and your paint, and your patches.
You're all alike ; blacksmith's Sue is worth a hundred of ye.'

Peggy burst out laughing, and Will strode away. He did not like
to be laughed at, yet could not help being intolerably rude.

When I found that Will, although he made himself the laughing-
stock — and the terror — of the place, ceased to molest me, I was more
easy in my mind ; certainly, it would not have been pleasant to walk
ou the Terrace, or even to go to the Assembly, if one had feared to
meet this rough and bearish inamorato, who might have insulted
one, or a gentleman with one, in the most intolerable manner. How-
ever, the evening was generally a safe time, because then he loved
to sit in a tavern playing all-fours over a pipe and a tankard with
any country parson, or even any town tradesman, who would share
his beer and be complaisant with his moods.

This was worse than the case of Harry Temple, because, as I have

270 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

said before, I could not hope, whatever I did, to bring him
to reason. Sometimes I thought, but wildly, of Dr. Powlett'a
establishment. Suppose that the whole force of the house had suc-
ceeded in putting him into chains and a strait- waistcoat, which was
certainly doubtful — besides, so wicked a thing could not be done
twice — what assurance had I of good behaviour on release ? He
would promise — Will was always ready to promise, having no more
regard to truth than an ourang-outang ; but when he was free, with
his cudgel in his hand, what would he not do 1

I have said that he was prodigiously strong, besides being fierce
and masterful of aspect. This made men give way to him ; also he
got a reputation for being stronger than perhaps he really was. For
when, as continually happened, booths were put on the Downs for
wrestling, singlestick, quarterstaff, boxing, and other trials of skill
and strength, "Will would always go, sit out the whole games, and
then challenge the victor, whom he always conquered, coming off
the hero of the day. To be sure, it was whispered that the contest
was generally arranged — by promise of half-a-crown — to be decided
in favour of Will. It seems strange, but I suppose there are men
who, for half-a-crown, will not only sell a fight — on which bets have
been made — but also take a sound drubbing as well.

And if he had a dispute with a gentleman— it was impossible for
him to exchange two words without causing a dispute — he would
immediately propose to settle the affair with cudgels or fists. Now
a gentleman should be ready to fight a street bully or a light porter
in London with any weapons, if necessary ; but what sort of society
would that be in which the gentlemen would take off coat and wig
and engage with fists or clubs on the smallest quarrel 1

He was so rude and overbearing that the company began to be
positively afraid of going to the Terrace or the Assembly Eooms,
and indeed I think he would have driven the whole of the visitors
away in a body but for the timely interference of Lord Chudleigh
and Sir Miles Lackington. It was the clay after his open insult to
Harry Temple, who could not call out the son of his former guardian
and his old playfellow. Therefore these two resolved that there
should be an end of this behaviour.

It was bruited abroad that some steps of a serious nature were
going to be taken ; there had been found a man, it was said, to
bell the cat ; it was even whispered that a prize-fighter of stupendous
strength, dexterity, and resolution had been brought down expressly
front' London in order to insult Will Levett, receive a challenge for
singlestick, or fists, or quarterstaff, instantly accept it, and thereupon
give the village bantam-cock so mighty a drubbing that he would
not dare again to show his face among the company. Indeed, I
think that was the best thing which could have been done, and I
sincerely wish they had done it.

But Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles would not treat a gentleman,
even so great a cub aud clown, with other than the treatment due to

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 271

a. gentleman. Therefore, they resolved upon an open and public ex-
postulation and admonition. And, mindful of the big cudgel, they
broke the laws of the Wells, and put on their swords before they
came together on the Terrace, looking grave and stern, as becomes
those who have duties of a disagreeable kind to perform. But to see
the excitement of the company. They expected, I believe, nothing
short of a battle between Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles on the one
hand, armed with swords, and Will on the other, grasping his trusty
cudgel. The cudgel, in his hands, against any two combatants,
would have been a mighty awkward weapon, but, fortunately,
gentlemen of Will's kind entertain a healthy repugnance to cold
steel.

It was about twelve o'clock in the forenoon when Will the Master-
ful, forcing his way, shoulders first, among the crowd, found himself
brought up short by these two gentlemen. Round them were
gathered a circle of bystanders, which increased rapidly till it was
twenty or thirty deep.

' Now then,' he cried, ' what is the meaning of this l Let's pass,
will ye, lord or no lord V

As Lord Chudleigh made no reply, Will, growling that a freeborn
Englishman was as good as a lord or a baronet in the public way,
tried to pass through them. Then he was seized by the coat-collar
by Sir Miles, whose arm was as strong as his own.

' Hark ye,' said the baronet. ' We want a few words with you,
young cub !'

Will lifted his head in amazement. Here was a man quite a3
strong as himself who dared to address him as a cub.

' We find that you go about the Wells,' continued the baronet,
vhich is a place of entertainment for ladies and gentlemen, in-
sulting, pushing, and behaving with no more courtesy than if you
were in your own stableyard. Now, sirrah, were it not for the
respect we have for your father we should make short work of you.'
_' Make short work of ME !' cried Will, red in the face, and bran-
dishing his cudgel. ' Make short work of ME !'

' Certainly. Do not think we shall fight you with sticks ; and if
you make the least gesture with that club of yours, I shall have the
pleasure of running you through with my sword.' Contrary to the
rules of the Wells, both gentlemen, as I have said, wore their
swords on this occasion, and here Sir Miles touched his sword-hilt.
' And now, sir, take a word of advice. Try to behave like a gentle-
man, or, upon my word of honour, you shall be driven out of the
Wells with a horsewhip by the hands of the common grooms of the
place, your proper companions.'

Will swore prodigiously, but ho refrained from using his cudgel.
Indeed, the prospect of cold steel mightily cooled his courage.

^ And a word from me, sir,' said Lord Chudleigh, speaking low.
' 1 ou have dared to make public use of a certain young lady's name.
I assure you, upon the honour of a peer, thtit if you presume to

( ,.

272 THE CH/irLAIN OF THE FLEET.

repeat this offence, or if you in any way assert a claim to that
lady's favour, I will make you meet me as one gentlemaa should
meet another.'

Will looked from one to the other. Both men showed that they
meant what they promised. Sir Miles, with a careless smile, had
in his eye a look of determination. Lord Chudleigh, with grave
face and set lip, seemed a man quite certain to carry out his
promise. Will had nothing to say : he was like one dumbfounded ;
therefore, he swore. This is the common refuge of many men for
all kinds of difficulties, doubts, and dangers. Some rogues go
swearing to tbe gallows. Men call them insensible and callous,
whereas I believe that these wretches are simply incapable of ex-
pressing emotion in any other way. Swearing, with them, stands
for every emotion. The divine gift of speech, by which it was
designed that men should express their thoughts, and so continually
lead upwards their fellow-creatures, become in their case a vehicle
for profane ejaculation, so that they are little better than the
monkeys on the branches.

Will, therefore, swore vehemently. This made no impression
upon his assailants. He therefore swore again. He then asked
what sort of treatment this was for a gentleman to receive. Sir
Miles reminded him that he had offended against the good manners
expected of gentlemen at a watering-place, and that he could no
longer fairly be treated as belonging to the polite class.

' Indeed,' he explained, ' we have gravely considered the matter,
my lord and myself, and have come to the conclusion that although,
for the sake of your most worthy father, we were ready to admonish
as a gentleman (though in this open and public manner, as the
offence required), yet we cannot consider your case to be deserv-
ing of any better treatment than that of a common, unruly porter,
carter, or labouring man, who must be brought to his senses by
reason of blows, cuffs, and kicks. Know, then, that although this
Terrace is open to all who comport themselves with civility, decency,
and consideration for others, it is no place, for brawlers, strikers,
and disturbers of the peace. Wherefore, four stout men, or if
that is not enough, six, will be told off to drive you from the Terrace
whenever you appear again upon it armed with that great stick, or
upon the least offer to fight any gentleman of the company. I
believe, sir, that you are no fool, and that you perfectly under-
stand what we mean, and that we do mean it. Wherefore, be
advised in time, and if you do not retreat altogether from the
Wells, be persuaded to study the customs of polite society.'

This was a long speech for Sir Miles, but it was delivered with
an authority and dignity which made me regret that tiuch good
abilities should have been thrown away at the gaming-table.

Will swore again at this. Then, observing that many of the by-
standers were laughing, he brandished his cudgel, and talked of
knocking out brains, breaking of necks, and so forth, until h. tvW

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 273

again reminded by Sir Miles, who significantly tapped the hilt of
his svrord, that Signor Stick was not to be allowed to reign at the
Wells. Then he hung his head and swore again.

' It will be best, sir,' said Lord Chudleigh, 'that you come no
more to the Terrace or the Assembly Rooms, with or without your
cudgel. The Downs are wide and open ; there you will doubtless
find room for walking, and an audience in the birds for these pro-
fane oaths, to which our ladies are by no means accustomed.'

'Let me go, then,' he said sulkily. ' Od rot it— get out of my
way, some of you !'

He walked straight down the Terrace, the people making way
for him on either hand, with furious looks and angry gestures.
He went straight to his stable, where he thrashed a groom for
some imaginary offence. Thence he went to the King's Head, where
be called for a tankard and offered to fight the best man in the
company or for ten miles round, for fifty pounds a side, with
ouarterstaff, singlestick, or fists. Then he drank more beer; sat
down and called for a pipe : smoked tobacco all the afternoon; and
got drunk early in the evening.

But he came no more to the Terrace.

' And now,' said Peggy Baker, ' I hope that we shall see Miss
Nancy back again. Doubtless, my lord, the return of that lady, and
the more frequent appearance of Miss Pleydell with her, will bring
your lordship oftener from Durdans.'

I have already mentioned our poets at Epsom, and their biting
epigrams. Here is another, which was sent to me at this time ;

' Kitty, a nymph who fain would climb,
But yet may tumble down,
Her charms she tries with voice and eyea
First on a rustic clown.

But bumpkin squire won't serve her tura

When gentle Harry woos her,
So farewell Will, for Kitty still

Will laugh, although you lose her.

« Yet higher still than Hal or Will
Her thoughts, ambitious, soar'd :
" Go, Will and Hal : my promise shall
Be transferred to my Lord." '

I suppose the verses were written at the request of Peggy Baker J
but after all they did me very little harm, and, indeed, nothing
could do me either good or harm at Epsom any more, because my
visit was brought to a sudden close by an event which, as will be
seen, might have been most disastrous for us all.

The selfishness and boorish behaviour of Will Levett not only
kept us from walking on the Terrace in the afternoon, but also kept
poor Nancy at home altogether. She would either come to our
lodgings and sit with me lamenting over her bumokin brother, or

18

274 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

she would sit at home when Sir Bobert was testy and her lady-
ship querulous, throwing the blame of her son's rudeness sometimes
upon her husband, who, she said, had never whipped the boy as he
ought to have been whipped, in accordance with expressed Scripture
orders strictly laid down ; or upon Nancy, whose pert tongue and
saucy ways had driven him from the Hall to the kennel ; or upun
myself, who was so ungrateful, after all that had been done for me,
as to refuse her son, in spite of all his protestations of affection.
It was hard upon poor Nancy, the ordinary butt and victim of her
brother's ill- temper, that she should be taunted with being the cause
of it ; and one could not but think that had madam been more
severe with her son at the beginning, things might have gone better.
When a mother allows her son from the very beginning to have all
his own way, it is weak in the father to suffer it : but she must not
then turn round when the mischief is done, and reproach her
daughter, who took no part in the first mischief, with being the cause
of it ; nor should she call a girl ungrateful for refusing to marry a
man whose vices are so prominent and conspicuous that they actu-
ally prevent his virtues from being discerned. Beneath that smock-
frock, so to speak, that village rusticity, behind that blunt speech
and rough manner, there may have been the sound kind heart of a
gentleman, but the girl could not take that for granted. The sequel
proved indeed that she was right in refusing, even had she been
free ; for Will died, as he lived, a profligate and a drunkard of the
village kind. So that even his poor mother was at last fain to
acknowledge that he was a bad and wicked man, and but for some
hope derived from his death bed, would have gone in sorrow to her
dying day.

' I must say, Kitty,' said Lady Levett to me, ' that I think a little
kindness from you might work wonders with our Will. And he a
bo} T of such a good heart !'

' He wants so much of me, madam,' I replied. ' With all respect
I cannot give him what he asks, because I cannot love him.'
' He says, child, that you promised him.'

' Indeed, madam, I did not. I was in sorrow and lamentation
over my father's death and my departure from kind friends, when
hrst Harry and then Will came, and one after the other said words
of which I took no heed. Yet when I saw them again, they both
declared that I was promised to them. Now, madam, could a girl
promise to two men within half an hour V

' I know not. Girls will do anything said Lady Levett, bitterly.
' Yet it passes my understanding to know how the two boys could
be so mistaken. And yet you will take neither. What ! would
nothing serve you short of a coronet V
I made no reply.

' Tell me, then, girl, will Lord Chudleigh marry thee ? It is a
great condescension of him, and a g""«.at thing for a penniless youug
woman.'

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 275

'He will marry me, madam,' I replied, blushing, and thinking of
what I had first to tell him.

She sighed.

' Well, I would he had cast his eyes on Nancy ! Yet I say not,
Kitty, that a coronet will be too heavy for thy head to wear. Some
women are born to be great ladies. My Nancy must content herself
with some simple gentleman. Go, my dear. I must try to persuade
this headstrong boy to reason.'

' Persuade him, if you can, madam,' I said, ' to leave Epsom and
go home. He will come to harm in this place. Two or three of
the gentlemen have declared that they will follow the example of
Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles Lackington, and wear swords, although
that is against the rules of the Wells, in order to punish him for his
rudeness should he venture again to shake his cudgel in the faces of
the visitors, which he has done already to their great discomfiture.'

I know not if his mother tried to persuade him, but I do know
that he did not leave Epsom, and that the evil thing which I had
prophesied, not knowing how true my words might be, did actually
fall upon him. This shows how careful one should be in foretelling
disasters, even if they seem imminent. And indeed, having before
one the experiences of maturity, it seems as if it would be well did
a new order of prophets and prophetesses arise with a message of
joy and comfort, instead of disaster and misery, such as the message
which poor Cassandra had to deliver.

Now, when my lord had given poor Will the warning of which
I have told, he retired ashamed and angry, but impenitent, to those
obscure haunts where tobacco is continually offered as incense to
the gods of rusticity. Here he continued to sit, smoked pipes,
drank beer, and cudgelled stable-boys to his heart's content ; while
we, being happily quit of him, came forth again without fear.

Nancy, however, assured me that something would happen before
her brother, whose stubbornness and masterful disposition were well
known to her, relinquished his pursuit and persecution of the woman
on whom he had set his heart.

' My dear,' she said, ' I know Will, as you do, of old. Was there
ever a single thing which he desired that he did not obtain ? Why,
when he was a child and cried for the moon they brought him a
piece of green cheese, which they told him was cut from the moon
on purpose for him to eat. Was he ever crossed in anything 1 Has
there ever been a single occasion on which he gave up any enjoyment
or desire out of consideration for another person ? .Rather, when he
lias gone among his equals has he not become an object of scorn and
hatred 1 He made no friends at school, nor any at Cambridge, from
which place of learning he was, as you know, disgracefully expelled ;
the gentlemen of the county will not associate with him except on
the hunting-field— you know all this, Kitty. Think, then, since he
has made up his mind to many a girl ; since he has bragged about
his condescension, as he considers it ; since he has promised his pot^

18—2

276 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

companions to bring home a wife, how great must be his rage and
disappointment. He will do something, Kitty. He is desperate.'

What, however, could he do \ He came not near our lodgings ;
he made no sign of any evil intention ; but he did not go away.

' He is desperate,' repeated Nancy. ' He cares little about you,
but he thinks of his own reputation. And, my dear, do not think
because Will, poor boy, is a sot and a clown that he does not think
of his reputation. His hobby is to be thought a man who can and
will have his own way. He has openly bragged about the country,
and even among his boozing companions at Epsom, that he will
marry you. Therefore, oh ! my dear, be careful. Go not forth
alone, or without a gentleman or two, after dark. For I believe
that Will would do anything, anything, for the sake of what he
calls his honour. For, Kitty, to be laughed at would be the death-
blow to his vanity. He knows that he is ignorant and boorish, but
he consoles himself 'with the thought that he is strong.'

What, I repeated, being uneasy more than a little, could he do ?

At first I thought of asking Harry Temple quietly to watch over
Will and bring me news if anything was in the wind ; but th;it
would not do either, because one could not ask Harry to act the
part of a spy. Next, I thought that I had only to ask for a body-
guard of the young men at the Wells to get a troop for my pro-
tection ; but what a presumption would this be ! Finally, I spoke
my fears to Sir Robert, begging him not to tell madam what I
had said

' Courage, Kitty !' said Sir Robert Levett, ' Will is a clown,
for which we have to thank our own indulgence. Better had it
been to break a thousand good ash-saplings over his back, than to
see him as he is. Well, the wise man says : " The father of a fool
hath no joy." Yet Will is of gentle blood, and I cannot doubt
that he will presently yield aud go away patiently.'

' Have you asked him, sir V

' Child, I ask him daily, for his mother's sake and for Nancy's,
to go away and leave us in peace. But I have no control over
him. He doth but swear aud cafl for more ale. His mother also
daily visits him, and gets small comfort thereby. His heart is hard
and against us all.'

' Then, sir, if Mrs. Esther will consent, one cause of his discontent
shall be removed, for we will go away to London where he will not
be able to find us.'

' Yes, Kitty,' he replied. ' That will be best. Yet who would
ever have thought I could wish our sweet tall Kitty to go away
from us !'

The sweet tall Kitty could not but burst out crying at such tender-
ness from her old friend and protector.

' Forgive me, sir,' I said, while he kissed me and patted my cheek
as if I was a child again. ' Forgive me, sir, that I cannot marry
Will, as he would wish.'

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 277

' Child !' he exclaimed, starting to his feet in a paroxysm of pas-
sion. ' God forgive me for saying so, but I would rather see a girl
1 loved in her grave than married to my son !'

We then held a consultation, Lord Ghudleigh being of the party ;
and it was resolved that we should return to Loudon without
delay and without acquainting any at the Wells with our inten-
tion, which was to be carried into effect as soon as we could get
our things put together ; in fact, in two days' time.

So secret were our preparations that we did not even tell Nancy,
and were most careful to let no suspicion enter the head of Cicely
Crump, a towncrier of the busiest and loudest, who was, besides,
continually beset by the young gallants, seeking through her to
convey letters, poems, and little gifts to me. Yet so faithful was
the girl, as I afterwards found out, and so fond of me, that 1
might safely have trusted her with any secret.

(Soon after the event which I am now to relate, I took Cicely
into my service as still-room maid. She remained with me for four
years, being ever the same merry, faithful, and talkative wench.
She then, by my advice, married the curate of the parish, to whom
she made as good a wife as she had been a servant, and brought
up eleven children, four of them being twins, in the fear of God
and the love of duty.)

We were to depart on Friday, the evening being chosen so that
Master Will should not be able to see us go. Lord Chudleigh and
Sir Miles promised to ride with our coach all the way to London
for protection. I have often remembered since that Friday is ever
an unlucky day to begin upon. Had we made the day Thursday,
for instance, we should have gotten safely away without the thing
which happened.

On Thursday afternoon we repaired to the Terrace as usual, T
rather sad at thinking that my reign as Queen of the Wells would
soon be over, and wondering whether the future could have any
days in store for me so happy as those which a kind Providence had.
already bestowed upon me. There was to be a dance at six, anda
tea at five. About four o'clock, Nancy and I, accompanied only by
Mr. Stallabras, sauntered away from the Terrace and took the road
leading to the Downs. Nancy afterwards told me that she had
noticed a carriage with four horses waiting under the trees between
the Terrace and the King's Head, which, on our leaving the crowd,
slowly followed us along the road ; but she thought nothing of this
at the time.

Mr. Stallabras, with gallant and consequential air, ambled beside
us, his hat under his arm, his snuff-box in his left hand, and his
cane dangling from his right wrist. lie was, as usual, occupied
with his own poetry, which, indeed, through the interest of the
brewer's widow (whom he subsequently married), seemed about to
become the fashion. I thought, then, that it was splendid poetry,
but I fear, now, that it must have been what Dr. Johnson one©

278 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

ralled a certain man's writing, ' terrible skimble skamble stuff ;' in
other words, poor Solomon Stallabras had the power of imitation,
and would run you off rhymes as glibly as monkey can peel cocoa-
nuts (according to the reports of travellers), quite in the style of
Pope. Yet the curious might look in vain for any thought above
the common, or any image which had not been used again and again.
Such poets, though they hand down the lamp, do not, I suppose,
greatly increase the poetic reputation of their country.

'It seems a pity, Mr. Stallabras,' I was saying, 'that you, who
are so fond of singing about the purling stream and the turtles
cooing in the grove, do not know more about the familiar objects of
the country. Here is this little flower ' — only a humble crane's-
bill, yet a beautiful flower — ' you do not, I engage, know its name V

He did not.

' Observe, again, the spreading leaves of yonder great tree. You
do not, I suppose, know its name V

He did not. A common beech it was, yet as stately as any
of those which may be seen near Farnhani Eoyal, or in Windsor
Forest.

' And listen ! there is a bird whose note, I dare swear, you do not
know V

He did not. Would you believe that it was actually the voice of
the very turtle-dove of which he was so fond ?

' The Poet,' he explained, not at all abashed by the display of so
much ignorance — ' the Poet should not fetter his mind with the
little details of nature : he dwells in his thought remote from their
consideration : a flower is to him a flower, which is associated with
the grove and the purling stream : a shepherd gathers a posy of
flowers for his nymph : a tree is a tree which stands beside the
stream to shelter the swain and his goddess : the song of one bird
is as good as the song of another, provided it melodiously echoes the
sighs of the shepherd. As for '

Here we were interrupted. The post-chaise drove rapidly up
the road and overtook us. As we turned to look, it stopped, and
two men jumped out of it, armed with cudgels. Nancy seized my
arm : ' Kitty ! Will is in the carriage !' I will do Solomon Stalla-
bras justice. He showed himself, though small of stature and
puny of limb, as courageous as a lion. He was armed with nothing
but his cane, but with this he flew upon the ruffians who rushed to
seize me, and beat, struck, clung, and kicked in my defence.
JSancy threw herself upon me and shrieked, crying, that if they
carried me away, they should drag her too. While we struggled,
I saw the evil face of Will looking out of the carriage : it was
distorted by every evil passion : he cried to the men to murder
Solomon : he threatened his sister to kill her unless she let go : he
called to me that it would be the worse for me unless I came quiet.
Then he sprang from the carriage himself, having originally pur-
posed, I suppose, to take no part in the fray, and with his cudgel

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 279

dealt Solomon such a blow upon his head that he fell senseless in
the road. After this he seized Nancy, his own sister, dragged her
from me, swore at the men for being cowardly lubbers, and while
tliey threw me into the carriage, he hurled his sister shrieking and
crying on the prostrate form of the poor poet, and sprang into the
carriage after me.

' Kun !' he cried to the two men ; ' off with you both, different
ways. If you get caught, it will be the worse for you.'

We were half-way up the hill which leads from the town to the
Downs ; in fact, we were not very far above the doctor's house, but
there was a wind in the road, so that had his men been looking
out of his doors they could not have seen what was being done,
though they might have heard almost on the Terrace the erics,
the dreadful imprecations, and the shrieks of Nancy and myself.

They had thrown me upon the seat with such violence that I
was breathless for a few moments, as well as sick and giddy with
the dreadful scene — it lasted but half a minute — which I had
witnessed. Yet as "Will leaped in after me and gave the word to
drive on, I saw lying in the dust of the road the prostrate and in-
sensible form of poor Solomon and my faithful, tender Nancy,
who had so fought and wrestled with the villains, not with any
hope that she could beat them off, but in order to gain time, lying
half over the body of the poet, half on the open road. Alas ! the
road at this time was generally deserted; there was no one to
rescue, though beyond the tall elms upon the right lay the gardens
and park of Durdans, where my lord was walking at that moment,
perhaps, meditating upon his wretched Kitty.

As for my companion, his face resembled that of some angry
devil, moved by every evil passion at once. If I were asked to
depict the worst face I ever saw, I should try to draw the visage
of this poor boy. He could not speak for passion. He was in
such a rage that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. He
could not even swear. He could only splutter. For a while he
sat beside me ejaculating at intervals disjointed words, while his
angry eyes glared about the coach, and his red cheeks tlamed with
wrath.

The Downs were quite deserted : not even a shepherd was in
sight. We drove along a road which I knew well, a mere track
across the grass : the smooth turf was easy for the horses, and we
were travelling at such a pace that it seemed impossible for any-
one to overtake us.

My heart sank, yet I bade myself keep up courage. With this
wild beast at my side it behoved me to show no sign of terror.

Every woman has got two weapons, one provided by Nature,
the oilier by Art. The first is the one which King Solomon had
ever in his mind when he wrote the Book of Proverbs (which should
be the guide and companion of every young man). Certainly he
had so many wives that he had more opportunities than fall to the

a8o THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

lot of most husbands (who have only the experience of one) of
knowing the power of a woman's tongue. He says he would
rather dwell in the wilderness than with an angry woman : in the
corner of the house-top than with a brawling woman. (Yet the
last chapter of the book is in praise of the wise woman.) I had,
therefore, my tongue. Next I had a pair of scissors, so that if my
fine gentleman attempted the least liberty, I could, and would, give
him such a stab with the sharp points as t\ ould admonish him to
good purpose. But mostly I relied upon my tongue, knowing of
old that with this weapon Will was easily discomfited.

Presently, the cool air of the Downs blowing upon his cheeks,
Will became somewhat soothed, and his ejaculations became less
like angry words used as interjections. I sat silent, taking no
notice of what he said, and answering nothing to any of his wild
speeches. But be sure that I kept one eye upon the window, ready
to shriek if any passer-by appeared.

The angry interjections settled down into sentences, and Will at
last became able to put some of his thoughts into words.

He began a strange, wild, rambling speech, during which I felt
somewhat sorry for him. It was such a. speech as an Indian
savage might have made when roused to wrath by the loss of his
squaw.

He bade me remember that he had known me from infancy, that
he had always been brought up with me. I had therefore a first
duty to perform in the shape of gratitude to him (for being a child
with him in the same village). Next he informed me that having
made up his mind to marry me, nothing should stop him, because
nothing ever did stop him in anything he proposed to do, and if
an3 7 one tried to stop him, he always knocked down that man first,
and when he had left him for dead, he then went and did the thing.
This, he said, was well known. Very well, then. Did I dare,
then, he asked, knowing as I did full well this character of his for
resolution, to fly in the face of that knowledge and throw him
over ? What made the matter, he argued, a case of the blackest
ingratitude, was that I had thrown him over for a lord: a poor,
chicken-hearted, painted lord, whom he, for his own part, could
knock down at a single blow. He would now, therefore, show me
what my new friends were worth. Here I was, boxed up in the
carriage with him, safe and sound, not a soul within hail, being
driven merrily across country to a place he knew of, where I should
find a house, a parson, and a prayer-book With these before me
I might, if I pleased, yelp and cry for my lord and his precious
friend, Sir Miles Lackington. They would be far enough away,
with their swords and their mincing ways. When I was married
they might come and — what was I laughing at?

I laughed, in fact, because I remembered another weapon. As
a last resource I could proclaim to the clergyman that I was
already a wife, the wile of Lord Chudlei^h. 1 knew enough of

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 28 1

the clergy to be certain that although a man might be here and
there found among them capable of marrying a woman against her
will, just as men are found among them who, to please their
patrons, will drink with them, go cock-fighting with them, and in
every other way forget the sacred duties of their calling, yet not
one among them all, however bad, would dare to many ti^uui a
woman already married. Therefore I laughed.

A London profligate would, perhaps, have got a man to per-
sonate a clergyman; but this wickedness, I was sure, would not
enter into the head of simple Will Levett. It was as much as he
could devise— and that was surely a good deal — to bribc^ some
wretched country curate to be waiting for us at our journey's end,
to marry us on the spot. When 1 understood this I laughed
again, thinking what a fool Will would look when he was thwarted
again.

'Zounds, madam! I see no cause for laughing.'

'I laugh, Will,' I said, 'because you are such a fool. As fcr
you, unless you order your horses' heads to be turned round, and
drive me instantly back to Epsom, you will not laugh, but cry.'

To this he made no reply, but whistled. iNow to whistle when
a person gives you serious advice, is in Kent considered a con-
temptuous reply.

' Ah !' he went on, ' sly as you were, I have been too many for
you. It was you who set the two bullies, your great lord and your
baronet, on me with their swords— made all the people laugh at
me. You shall pay for it all. It was you set Nancy crying and
scolding upon me enough to give a man a fit ; it was you, I know,
set my father on to me. Says if he cannot cut me oif with a
shilling, he will sell the timber, ruin the estate, and let me starve
so long as he lives. Let un ! let 'un ! let 'un, I say ! All of you
do your worst. Honest Will Levett will do what he likes, and
have what he likes. Bull- dog Will ! Hold-fast Will ! Tear-'em
Will ! By the Lord ! there isn't a man in the country can get the
better of him. Oh, I know your ways ! Wait till I've married
you. Then butter won't melt in vour mouth. Then it will be,
" Dear Will ! kind Will ! sweet Will ! best of husbands and of
men!" — oh! I know what you are well enough. Why — after all
—what is one woman that she should set herself above other
women ? Take off your powder and your patches and your hoops,
how are you better than Blacksmith's Sue ? Answer me that.
And why do I take all this trouble about you, to anger my father
and spite my mother, when Blacksmith's Sue would make as good
a wife — ay ! a thousand times better — because she can bake and
brew, and shoe a horse and mend a cracked crown, and light a
game-cock, and teach a ferret, and train a terrier or a bull-pup,
whereas you — what are you good for, but to sit about and look
grand, and come over the fellows with your make-pretence, false,
lying, whimsy-flimsy ways, your smihV looks when, sv lord is at

282 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

your heels, and your " Oh, fie ! Will," if it's only an old friend.
Why, I say P Because I've told my friends that I'm going to
bring you home my wife, and my honour's at stake. Because I
am one as will have his will, spite of 'em all. Because I don't love
you, not one hit, since I found you out for what you are, a false,
jiltin' jade ; and I value the little finger of Sue more than, your
whole body, tall as you are, and fine as you think yourself. Oh!
by the Lord '

I am sorry I cannot give the whole of his speech, which was
too coarse and profane to be written down for polite eyes to read.
Suffice it to say that it included every form of wicked word or
speech known to the rustics of Kent, and that he threatened me,
in the course of it, with every kind of cruelty that he could think
of, counting as nothing a horsewhipping every day until I became
cheerful. Now, to horsewhip your wife every day, in order to
make her cheerful, seems like starving your horse in order to make
him more spirited ; or to flog an ignorant boy in order to make him
learned ; or to kick your dog in order to make him love you.
Perhaps he did not mean quite all that he said ; but one cannot
tell, because his friends were chiefly in that rank of life where it is
considered a right and honourable thing to beat a wife, cuff a son,
and kick a daughter, and even the coarsest boor of a village will
have obedience from the wretched woman at his beck and call.
I think that Will would have belaboured his wife with the greatest
contentment, and as a pious duty, in order to make her satisfied
with her lot, cheerful over her duties, and merry at heart at the
contemplation of so good a husband. 'A wife, a dog, and a
walnut-tree, the harder you flog them, the better they be.' There
are plenty of Solomon's Proverbs in favour of flogging a child,
but none, that I know of, which recommend the flogging of a
wife.

Blacksmith Sam, Will said, in his own village, the father of the
incomparable Sue, used this method to tame his wife, with satis-
factory results ; and Pharaoh, his own keeper, was at that very
time engaged upon a similar course of discipline with his partner.
What, he explained, is good for such as those women is good for
all. ' Beat 'em and thrash 'em till they follow to heel like a well-
bred retriever. Keep the stick over 'em till such times as they
become as meek as an old cow, and as obedient as a sheep-dog.'

While he was still pouring forth these maxims for my informa-
tion and encouragement my heart began to beat violently, because
I heard (distantly at first) the hoofs of horses behind us. Will
went on, hearing and suspecting nothing, growing louder and
louder in. his denunciation of women, and the proper treatment of
them.

The hoofs drew nearer. Presently they came alongside. I
looked out. One on each side of our carnage, there rode Lord
Chudleigh and Sir Miles Lackington.

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 283

But I laughed no longer, for I saw before me the advent of some
terrible tiling, and a dreadful trembling seized me. My lord's
face was stern, and Sir Miles, for the first time in my recollection,
was grave and serious, as one who hath a hard duty to perform.
So mad was poor headstrong Will that he neither heard them nor,
for a while, saw them, but continued his swearing and raving.

They called, aloud to the postilions to stop the horses. This it
was that roused Will, and he sprang to his feet with a yell of
rage, and thrusting his head out of the window, bawled to the
boys to drive faster, faster ! They whipped and spurred their
horses. My lord said nothing, but rode on, keeping up with the
carriage.

'Stop!' cried Sir Miles.

' Go on !' cried Will.

Sir Miles drew a pistol and deliberately cocked it.

' If you will not stop,' he cried, holding his pistol to the postboy's
head, ' I will fire !'

' Go on !' cried Will. ' Go on ; he dares not fire.'

The fellow — I knew him for a stable-boy whose life at the Hall
had been one long series of kicks, cuffs, abuse, and horse-whip-
pings at the hands of his young master— ducked his head between
his shoulders, and put up his elbows, as if that which had so often
protected him when Wdl was enforcing discipline by the help of
Father Stick, would avail him against a pistol-shot. But he
obeyed his master, mostly from force of habit, and spurred his
horse.

Sir Miles changed the direction of the pistol, and leaning for-
ward, discharged the contents in the head of the horse which the
boy was riding. The poor creature bounded forward and fell dead.

There was a moment of confusion; the flying horses stumbled
and fell, the boys were thrown from their saddles: the carriage
was stopped suddenly.

Then, what followed happened all in a moment. Yet it is a
moment •which to me is longer than any day of my life, because
the terror of it has never left me, and because in dreams it often
comes back to me. Ah ! what a prophetess was Nancy when she
said that some dreadful thing would happen before all was over,
unless Will went away.

Sir Miles and my lord sprang to their feet. Will, with a terrible
oath, leaped forth from the carriage. For a moment he stood glaring
from one to the other like a wild beast brought to bay. He was a
wild beast. Then he raised his great cudgel and rushed at my lord.

' You !' he cried ; ' you are the cause of it. I will beat out your
brains !'

Lord Chudleigh leaped lightly aside, and avoided the blow which
would have killed him had it struck his head. Then I saw the
bright blade in his hand glisten for a moment in the sunlight, and
then Will fell backwards with a cry, and lay lifeless on the green

284 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

turf, while my lord stood above him, drops of red blood trickling
down his sword.

'I fear, my lord,' said Sir Miles, 'that you have killed him.
Fortunately, I am witness that it was in self-defence.'

' You have killed him ! You have killed my master !' cried the
stable-boy, whose left arm, which was broken by his fall from the
horse, hung helpless at his side. ' You have killed the best master
in all the world ! Lord or no lord, you shall hang !'

He rushed with his one hand to seize the slayer of his master,
this poor faithful slave, whose affections had only grown firmer with
every beating. Sir Miles caught him by the coat-collar and dragged
him back.

' Quiet, fool ! Attend to your master. He is not dead — yet.'

He looked dead. The rage was gone out of his eyes, which were
closed, and the blood had left the cheeks, which were pallid. Poor
Will never looked so handsome as when he lay, to all seeming, dead.

Lord Chudleigh looked on his prostrate form with a kind of stern
sadness. The taking of life, even in such a cause and in self-defence,
is a dreadful thing. Like Lamech (who also might have been
defending his own life), he had slain a man to his wounding, and a
young man to his hurt.

' Kitty,' he said, in a low voice, taking my hand, ' this is a
grievous day's work. Yet I regret it not, since I have saved your
honour !'

' My lord,' I replied, ' I had the saving of that in my own hands.
But you have rescued me from a wild beast, whose end I grieve
over because I knew him when he was yet an innocent boy.'

' Come,' said Sir Miles, 'we must take measures. Here, fellows !
come, lift your master.'

The two boj's, with his help, lifted Will, who, as they moved him,
groaned heavily, into the carriage.

' Now,' said Sir Miles, ' one of you get inside. Lift his head. If
— but that is impossible — you come across water, pour a little into
his mouth. The other mount, and drive home as quickly as you can.'

I bethought me of my friend the mad doctor, and bade them take
their master to his house, which was, as I have said, on the road
between the town and the Downs, so that he might be carried there
quietly, without causing an immediate scandal in the town.

The fellows were now quite obedient and subdued. Sir Miles,
who seemed to know what was to be done, made some sort of splint
with a piece of pocr Will's cudgel, for the broken arm, which he
tied up roughly, and bade the boy be careful to get attended to as
soon as his master was served. In that class of life, as is well
known, wounds, broken bones, and even the most cruel surgical
operations, are often endured with patience which would equal the
most heroic courage, if it were not due to a stupid insensibility.
The most sensitive of men are often the most courageous, because
they know what it is they are about to sutler.

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 285

However, they did as they were told, and presently drove back,
the third horse following with a rope.

Then we were left alone, with the blood upon the grass and the
dead horse lying beside us.

Sir Miles took my lord's sword from him, wiped it on the turf,
and restored it to him.

' Come,' he said, ' we must consider what to do.'

'There is nothing to do,' said Lord Cluidleigh, ' except to take
Miss Pleydell home again.'

'Pardon me, my lord,' Sir Miles interposed ; 'if ever I saw mis-
chief written on any man's face, it was written on the face of that
boy. A brave lad, too, and would have driven to the death at his
master's command.'

'How can he do harm?' I asked. 'Why, Sir Miles, you are
witness ; you saw Will Levett with his cudgel rush upon his lord-
ship, who but drew in self-defence. I am another witness. I hope
the simple words of such as you and I would be believed before the
oath of a stable-lad.'

' I suppose they would,' he replied. ' Meantime, there is the fact,
known to all the company at the Wells, that both you and I, Lord
Chudleigh, had publicly informed this unhappy young man, that,
under certain circumstances, we would rim him through. The
circumstances have happened, and we have run him through. This
complication may be unfortunate as regards the minds of that pig-
headed institution, a coroner's inquest.'

'Sir!' cried mj lord, 'do you suppose — would you have me
believe — that this affair might be construed into anything but an
act of self-defence V

'I do indeed,' he replied, gravely; 'and so deeply do I feel it,
that I would counsel a retreat into some place where we shall not
be suspected, for such a time as may be necessary. If the worst
happens, and the man dies, your lordship may surrender yourself —
but in London — not to a country bench. If the man recovers, well
and good : you can go abroad again.'

At first my lord would hear nothing of such a plan. Why should
he run away ? Was it becoming for a man to fly from the laws of
his country 1 Then I put in a word, pointing out that it was one
thing for a case to be tried before a jury of ignorant, prejudiced
men upon an inquest, and another thing altogether for the case to
be tried by a dispassionate and unprejudiced jury. I said, too, that
away from this place, the circumstances of the case, the brutal
assault upon Solomon Stallabras, whose ribs, it appeared,, were
broken, as well as his collar-bone, the ferocious treatment of Nancy
by her own brother, and my forcible abduction in open daylight,
would certainly be considered provocation enough for anything, and
a justification (combined with the other circumstances) of the homi-
cide, if unhappily Will should die.

This moved my lord somewhat.

286 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

Where, he asked, could he go, so as to lie perdu for a few days,
or a few weeks, if necessary 1

' 1 have thought upon that,' replied Sir Miles, looking at me with
a meaning eye (but I blushed and turned pale, and reddened again).
' I have just now thought of a plan. Your lordship has been there
once already ; I mean the Rules of the Fleet. Here will I find you
lodgings, where no one will look for you ; where, if you please to lie
hidden for awhile, you may do so in perfect safety ; where you may
have any society you please, from a baronet out at elbows to a baker
in rags, or no society at all, if you please to lie quiet.'

' I like not the place,' said his lordship. ' I have been there it is
true once, and it was once too often. Find me another place.'

' I know no other,' Sir Miles replied. ' You must be in London ;
you must be in some place where no one will suspect you. As for
me, I will stay near you, but not with you. There will be some
noise over this affair ; it will be well for us to be separated, yet not
so far but that I can work for you. Come, my lord, be reasonable.
The place is dirty and noisy ; but what signify dirt and noise when
safety is concerned V

He wavered. The recollection of the place was odious to him.
Yet the case was pressing.

He gave way.

'Have it,' he said, 'your own way. Kitty,' he took my hand,
' hopeless as is my case, desperate as is my condition, I am happy iu
having rescued you, no matter at what cost.'

' Your lordship's case is not so hopeless as mine,' said Sir Miles ;
' yet I, too, am happy in having helped to rescue this, the noblest
creature iu the world.'

The tears were in my eyes as these two men spoke of me in such
terms. How could I deserve this worship ? By what act, or thought,
or prayer, could I raise myself to the level where my lord's imagina-
tion had planted me ? Love divine, since it makes men and
women long to be angels !

' I mean,' Sir Miles continued, bluntly, ' that since your lordship
has found favour in her eyes, your case cannot be hopeless.'

Lord Chudleigh raised my hand to his lips, with a sadness in hi3
eyes of which I alone could discern the cause.

' Gentlemen,' I cried, ' we waste the time in idle compliments.
Mount and ride off as quickly as you may. As for me, it is but
three miles across the Downs. I have no fear. I shall meet no
one. Mount, I say, and ride to London without more ado.'

They obeyed ; they left me standing alone. As my eyes turned
from following them, they lighted on the pool of blood — Will's
blood, which reddened the turf — and upon the poor dead horse.
Then I hastened back across the Downs.

It was a clear, bright evening, the sun yet pretty high. The time
was about half-past five ; before long the minuets would be begin-
ning in the Assembly Rooms ; yet Lady Levett would know — I

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 287

hoped that she already knew— the dreadful wickedness of her son.
Would not, indeed, all the company know it ? Would not the
assault on Mr. Stallabras and on Nancy be noised abroad 1

Indeed, the news had already sped abroad.

Long before I reached the edge of the Downs, I became aware of
a crowd of people. They consisted of the whole company, all the
visitors at Epsom, who came forth, leaving the public tea and the
dance, to meet the girl who had been thus carried away by force.

Harry Temple came forward as soon as I was in sight to meet me.
He was very grave.

' Kitty,' he said, ' this is a bad day's work.'

' How is Will 1 You have seen Will V

' I fear he is already dead. The doctor to whom you sent him
declares that he is dying fast. His mother is with him.'

' Oh, Harry !' I sighed ; ' I gave him no encouragement. There
was not the least encouragement to believe that I would marry
him.'

'No one thinks you did, Kitty ; not even his mother. Yet others
have been carried away by admiration of your charms to think '

' Oh ! my charms, my charms ! Harry, with poor Will at death's
door, let us at least be spared the language of compliment.'

By this time we had reached the stream of people. Among them,
I am happy to say, was not Peggy Baker. She, at least, did not
come out to gaze upon her unhappy rival, for whose sake one gallant
gentleman lay bleeding to death, and two others were riding away
to hide themselves until the first storm should be blown over. The
rest parted, right and left, and made a lane through which we
passed in silence. As I went through , I heard voices whispering :
' Where is Lord Chudleigh 1 where is Sir Miles 1 How pale she
looks !' and so forth ; comments of the crowd which has no heart,
no pity, no sympathy. It came out to-day to look upon a woman
to whom a great insult had been offered with as little pity as to-
morrow it would go to see a criminal flogged from Newgate to
Tyburn, or a woman whipped at Bridewell, or a wretched thief
beaten before the Alderman, or a batch of rogues hanged. They
came to be amused. Amusement, to most people, is the contempla-
tion of other folks' sufferings. If tortures were to be introduced
again, if, as happened, we are told, in the time of Nero, Christians
could be wrapped in pitch and then set fire to, thus becoming living
candles, I verily believe the crowd would rush to see, and would
enjoy the spectacle the more, the longer the sufferings of the poor
creatures were prolonged.

Solomon Stallabras, Harry told me, was comfortably put into bed,
his ribs being set and his collar-bone properly put in place : there
was no doubt that he would do well. Nancy, too, was in bed, sick
with the fright she had received, but not otherwise much hurt.
Mrs. Esther was wringing her hands and crying at home, with
Cicely to look after her. Sir Kobert and Lady Levett were at the

tS8 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

doctor's. It was, I have said, the same doctor who had undertaken
the temporary charge of Harry Temple. As we drew near the
house — I observed that most of the people remained behind upou
the Downs in hopes of seeing the return of Lord Chudleigh, in
which hope they were disappointed — Harry became silent.

' Come, Harry,' I said, reading his thoughts, ' you must forgive
me for saving your life, or from preventing you from killing Lord
Chudleigh. Be reasonable, dear Harry.'

He smiled.

'I have forgiven you long since,' he replied. 'You acted like a
woman ; that is, you did just what }^ou thought best at the moment.
But I cannot, and will not, forgive the man with his impudent smile
and his buckets of water.'

'Nay, Harry,' I said, 'he acted according to his profession. Come
with me to the house. I cannot even go to Mrs. Esther until I have
seen or heard about poor Will.'

The doctor was coming from the sick man's chamber when we
came to the house. They had placed Will in one of the private
rooms, away from the dreadful gallery where the madmen were
c-hained to the wall. With him were Lady Levett and Sir Robert.

The doctor coughed in his most important manner.

' Your obedient servant, Miss Pleydell. Sir, your most obedient,
humble servant. You are come, no doubt, to inquire after the
victim of this most unhappy affair. Poor Mr. William Levett, I
grieve to say, is in a most precarious condition.'

' Can nothing save him 1 Oh, doctor !'

' Nothing can save him, young lady,' he replied, ' but a miracle.
That miracle — I call it nothing short — is sometimes granted by
beneficent Providence to youth and strength only when — I say only
when — their possession is aided by the very highest medical skill
that the country can produce. I say the very highest ; no mere pre-
tender will avail.'

' Indeed, doctor, we have that skill, I doubt not, in yourself.'

' I say nothing,' — he bowed and spread his hands — 4 1 say nothing.
It is not for me to speak.'

' And, sir,' said Harry, ' you are doubtless aware that Sir Robert
is a gentleman of a considerable estate, and that — in fact — you may
expect '

' Sir Robert,' he replied, with a amile which speedily, in spite of
all his efforts, bi'oadened into a grin of satisfaction, ' has already
promised that no expense shall be spared, no honorarium be con-
sidered too large if I give him back his son. Yet we can but do our
best. Science is strong, but a poke of cold steel in the inwards is, if
you please, stronger still.'

' Will you let me see Sir Robert V I asked.

The doctor stole back to the room, and presently Sir Robert came
forth.

He kissed me on the forehead while his tears fell upon my head.

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 2S9

' My dear/ he said, ' I ask your pardon in the name of my head-
strong son. We have held an honourable name for five hundred
years and more : in all that time no deed so dastardly has been
attempted by any one of our house. Yet the poor wretch hath paid
dearly for his wickedness.'

' Oh, sir !' I cried, ' there is no reason why you should speak of
forgiveness, who have ever been so kind to me. Poor Will will re-
pent and be very good when he recovers.'

' I think,' said his father, sadly, ' that he will not recover. Go,
child. Ask not to see the boy's mother, because women are un-
reasonable in their grief, and she might perchance say things of
which she would afterwards be ashamed. Go to Mrs. Pimpernel,
and tell her of thy safety.'

This was, indeed, all that could be done. Yet, after allaying the
terrors and soothing the agitated spirits of Mrs. Esther, whose
imagination had conjured up, already, the fate of Clarissa, and who
saw in headstrong Will another Lovelace, without, to be sure, the
graces and attractions of that dreadful monster, I went to inquire
after my gallant little Poet.

He was lying on his bed, with order3 not to move, and wrapped
up like a baby.

I thanked him for his brave defence, which I said would have
been certainly efficacious, had it not been for the cowardly blow on
the back of his head. I further added, that no man in the world
could have behaved more resolutely, or with greater courage.

' This day,' he said, ' has been the reward for a Poet's devotion.
In those bowers, Miss Kitty, when first we met' — the bower was
the Fleet Market, ' beside that stream ' — the Fleet Ditch — ' where
the woodland choir was held' — the clack of the poultry about to be
killed — 'and the playful lambs frisked' — on their way to the
butchers of Newgate Street- — ' I dared to love a goddess who was as
much too high for me as ever Beatrice was for her Italian worshipper.
I refer not to the disparity of birth, because (though brought up in
a hosier's shop) the Muse, you have acknowledged, confers nobility.
An attorney is by right of his calling styled a gentleman ; but a
Poet, by right of his genius, is equal of — ay, even of Lord Chud-
leigh.'

'Surely, dear sir,' I replied, 'no one can refuse the highest title of
distinction to a gentleman of merit and genius.'

' But I think,' he went on, ' of that disparity which consists in
virtue and goodness. That can never be removed. How happy,
therefore, ought I to be in feeling that I have helped to preserve an
angel from the hands of those barbarous monsters who would have
violated such a sanctuary. What are these wounds ! — a broken rib
— a cracked collar-bone — a bump on the back of the head 1 I wish
they had been broken legs and arms in your service.'

I laughed — but this devotion, more than half of it being real,

19

290 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

touched my heart. The little Poet, conceited, vain, sometimes foolish,
was ennobled, not by his genius, of which he thought so much, but
by his great belief in goodness and virtue. Women should be
humble when they remember, that if a good man loves them it is
not, in very truth, the woman (who is a poor creature full of imper-
fections) that they love, but the soul — the noble, pure, exalted soul,
as high as their own grandest conception of goodness and piety,
which they believe to be in her. How can we rise to so great a
height? How can we, without abasement, pretend to such virtue ?
How can we be so wicked and so cruel as, after marriage, to betray
to our husbands the real littleness of our souls ? As my lord
believed me to be, so might I (then I prayed) rise to heaven in very
truth, and even soar to higher (lights.

Now, when I reached home, a happy thought came to me. I
knew the name of Solomon's latest patron, the brewer's widow. I
sat down and wrote her a letter. I said that I thought it my simple
duty to inform her, although I had not the honour of her friendship,
that the Poet whom she had distinguished with her especial favour
and patronage, was not in a position to pay her his respects, either
by letter, or by verse, or in person, being at that time ill in bed with
ribs and other bones broken in defence of a lady. And to this I
added, so that she might not grow jealous, which one must always
guard against in dealing with women, that he was walking with
two ladies, not one, and that the gallantry he showed in defence of
her who was attacked was so great that not even a lover could
have displayed more courage for his mistress than he did for this
lady (myself), who was promised to another gentleman. Nor was it,
I added, until he was laid senseless on the field that the ravishers
were able to carry off the lady, who was immediately afterwards
rescued by two friends of the Poet, Lord Chudleigh and Sir Miles
Lackington.

This crafty letter, which was all true, and yet designedly exagge-
rated, as when I called my lord Solomon's friend, produced more
than the effect which I desired. For the widow, who was in London,
came down to Epsom the next day, in a carriage and four, to see the
hero. Now, she was still young, and comely as well as rich. There-
fore, when she declared to him that no woman could resist such a
combination of genius and heroic courage, Solomon could only reply
that he would rush into her arms with all a lover's rapture, as soon
as his ribs permitted an embrace. In short, within a month they
were married at Epsom Church, and Solomon, though he wrote less
poetry in after years than his friends desired, lived in great comfort
and happiness, having a wife of sweet temper, who thought him the
noblest and most richly endowed of men, and a brewery whose vats
produced him an income far beyond his wants, though these expanded
as time went on.

As for Nancy, she was little hurt, save for the fright and the
fihame of it. Yet her brother, the cause of all, was lying danger-

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 091

ously wounded, and she could not for very pity speak her mind
upon his wickedness.

The company, I learned from Cicely, were greatly moved about it:
the public Tea had been broken up in confusion, while all sallied
forth to the scene of the outrage ; nor was the assembly resumed
when it was discovered that Will Levett had been run through the
body by Lord Chudleigh, and was now lying at the point of death.

In the morning Cicely went early to inquire at the doctor's. Alas !
Will was in a high fever ; Lady Levett had been sitting with him
all night ; it was not thought that he would live through the day.
I put on my hood and went to see Nancy.

' Oh, my dear, dear Kitty !' she cried, ' sure we shall all go distracted .
You have heard what they say. Poor Will is in a bad way in-
deed ; the fever is so high that the doctor declares his life to be in
hourly danger. He is delirious, and in his dreams he knows not
what he says, so that you would fancy him among his dogs or in
his stables — where, indeed, it hath been his chief delight to dwell
— or with the rustics with whom he would drink. It is terrible, my
father says, that one so near his end, who must shortly appear
before his Maker, should thus blaspheme and swear such horrid
oaths. If we could only ensure him half an hour of sense, even
with pain, so that the clergyman might exhort him. Alas ! our
Will hath led so shocking a life — my dear, I know more of hia
ways than he thinks — that I doubt his conscience and his heart are
hardened. Oh, Kitty ! to think that yesterday we were happy, and
that this evil thing had not befallen us ! And now I can never go
abroad again without thinking that the folk are saying : " There goes
the sister of the man who was killed while trying to carry off the
beautiful Miss Pleydell." '

No comfort can be found for one who sits expectant of a brother's
death. I bade poor Nancy keep up her heart and hope for the best.

The fever increased during the day, we heard, and the delirium.
We stirred not out of the house save for morning prayers, sending
Cicely from time to time to ask the news. And all the company
gathered together on the Terrace, not to talk scandal or tell idle
stories of each other, but to whisper that Will Levett was certainly
dying, and that it would go hard with Lord Chudleigh, who would
without doubt be tried for morrder, the two grooms protesting
stoutly that their master bad not struck a blow.

In the evening Sir Eobert Levett came to our lodging. He was
heavily afflicted with the prospect of losing his only son, albeit not
a son of whom a parent could be proud. Yet a child cannot be re-
placed, and the line of the Levetts would be extinguished.

'My dear,' he said, ' I come to say a thing which has been greatly
on my mind. My son was run through by Lord Chudleigh. Tell
me, first, what there is between you and my lord 1 Doth he propose
to marry you V

' Dear sir/ I replied, ' Lord Chudleigh has offered me his hand.'

19—2

2$2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' And you have taken it V

'Unworthy as I am, dear sir, I have promised, should Certain
obstacles be removed, to marry him.'

'His sword has caused my Will's death. Yet the act was done
in defence of the woman he loved, the woman whom Will designed
to ruin '

' And in self-defence as well. Had he not drawn, Will would
bave beaten out his brains.'

' Tell him, from Will's father, my dear, that I forgive him. Let
not such a homicide dwell upon his conscience. Where is he V

1 He has gone away with Sir Miles Lackington to await the find-
ing of an inquest, if '

' Tell him that I will not sanction any proceedings, and if there is
to be an inquest my evidence shall be, though it bring my grey
hairs with sorrow to the grave, that my lord is innocent, and drew
his sword to defend his own life.'

He left me — poor man ! — to return to the sick bedside.

He hid been gone but a short time when a post-boy rode to the
loor, blowing a horn. It was a special messenger, who had ridden
from Temple Bar with a letter from Sir Miles.

' Sweet Kitty,' wrote the baronet, ' I write this to tell thee that
We have taken up quarters in London. I have bestowed my lord
in certain lodgings, which you know, above the room where oDce I
lay.' Heavens ! my lord was in my own old lodging beside the Fleet
Market. ' He is downhearted, thinking of the life he has taken. I tell
him that he should think no more of running through such a mad-
man in defence of his own life than of killing a pig. Pig, and worse
than pig, was the creature who dared to carry off the lovely Kitty.
To think that such a rustic clown should be brother of pretty
Nancy ! I have sent to my lord's lodging an agreeable dinner and
a bottle of good wine, with which I hope my lord will comfort his
heart. Meantime, they know not, in the house, the rank and
quality of their guest. I suppose the fellow is dead by this time.
If there is an inquest, I shall attend to give my evidence, and the
Verdict can be none other than justifiable homicide or even felo-de-
te, for if ever man rushed upon his death it was Will Levett. I have
also sent him paper and pens with which to write to you, and some
books, and a pack of cards. Here is enough to make a lonely man
happy. If he wants more he can look out of the window and see
the porters and fishwives of the market fight, which was a spectacle
daily delighted me for two years and more. The Doctor is well. I
have informed him privately of the circumstances of the case, and
Lord Chudleigh's arrival. He seemed pleased, but I took the
liberty of warning him against betraying to my lord a relation-
'ship, the knowledge of which might be prejudicial to your interests.

Prejudicial to my interests !

HOW WILL WOULD NOT BE CROSSED. 293

Sir Miles was in league, with me, to hide this thing from a man
who believed, like Solomon Stallabras, that I was all truth and
goodness.

I had borne so much from this wicked concealment that I was re-
solved to bear it no longer. I said to myself, almost in the words of
the Prayer-book : ' I will arise and go unto my lord. I w/'H aay, For-
give me, for thus and thus have I done, aud so am I guilty.'

Oh, my noble lord ! Oh, great heart and true ! what am I,
wicked aud deceitful woman, that I should hope to keep thy love t
Let it go ; tell me that you can never love again one who has played
this wicked part ; let hatred and loathing take the place of love ;
let all go, and leave me a despairing wretch — so that I have con-
fessed my sin and humbled myself even to the ground before him
whom I have so deeply wronged.

CHAPTER XXI,

HOW XITTT WENT TO LONDON.

Oppeessed with this determination, which left no room for any
other thought, I urged upon Mrs. Esther the necessity of going to
London at once, as we had resolved to do before the accident. I
pointed out to her that, after the dreadful calamity which had be-
fallen us — for which most certainly no one could blame us — we
could take no more pleasure in the gaieties of Epsom • that we
could enjoy no longer the light talk, the music, and the dancing ;
that the shadow of Death had fallen over the place, so Jar as we
were concerned : that we could not laugh while Nancy was weep-
ing ; and that — in short, my lord was in London and I must needs
go too.

' There are a hundred good reasons,' said Mrs. Esther, ' why we
should go away at once : and you have named the very best of all.
But, dear child, I would not seem to be pursuing his lordship.'

' Indeed,' I replied, ' there will be no pursuing of him. Oh, dear
madam, I should be ' — and here I burst into tears — ' the happiest
of women if I were not the most anxious.'

She thought I meant that I was anxious about Will's recovery ;
hut this was no longer the foremost thing in my thoughts, much
as I hoped that he would get better — which seemed now hopeless.

'Let us go, dear madam, and at once. Let us leave ^his place,
which will always be remembered by me as the scene o( so much
delight as well as so much pain. I must see my lord us soon as I
can. For oh ! there are obstacles in the way which I must try to
remove, or be a wretched woman for ever.'

' Child,' said Mrs. Esther, sevevelv, ' we must not stake all our
happiness on one thing.'

294 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE ZLEET.

' But I have so stated it,' I replied. 'Dear madam, you do not
understand. If I get not Lord Chudleigh for my husband, I will
never have any man. If I cannot be his slave, then will I be no
man's queen. For oh ! I love the ground he walks upon, the place
where he lodges is my palace, his kind looks are my paradise ; I
want no heaven unless I can hold his hand in mine.'

I refrain from setting down all I said, because I think I was Hire
a mad thing, having in my mind at once my overweening love, my
repentance and shame, and my terror in thinking of what my lord
would say when he heard the truth.

Had my case been that of more happy women, who have nothing
to conceal or to confess, such a fit of passion would have been
without excuse, but I set it down here, though with some shame,
yet no self-reproach, because the events of the last day or two had
been more than I could bear, and I must needs weep and cry, even
though my tears and lamentations went to the heart of my gentle
lady, who could not bear to see me suffer. For consider, the son
of my kindest friends, to be lying, like to die, run through the
body by my lover : I could not be suffered to see his mother, who
had been almost my own mother : I could never more bear to meet
my pretty Nancy without thinking how, unwittingly, I had en-
chanted this poor boy, and so lured him to his death : that merry,
saucy girl would be merry no more : all our ways of kindly mirth
and innocent happiness were gone, never to return : even if Will
recovered, how could there, any more, be friendship between him
and me ? For the memory of his villainous attempt could never be
effaced. There are some things which we forgive, because we for-
get: but this thing, though I might forgive, none of us would ever
forget. And at the back of all this trouble was my secret, which
I was now, in some words, I knew not what, to confess to my
lord.

Poor Mrs. Esther gave way to all I wanted. She would leave
Epsom on Monday : indeed, her boxes should be packed in a
couple of hours. She kissed and soothed me, while I wept and
exclaimed, in terms which she could not understand, upon woman's
perfidy and man's fond trust. When I was recovered from this
fit, which surely deserved no other name, in which passion got the
better of reason, and reason and modesty were abandoned for the
time (if Solomon Stallabras had seen me then, how would he have
been ashamed for his blind infatuation !), we were able calmly to
begin our preparation.

First we told Cicely to go order us a post-chaise for Monday
morning, for we must go to London without delay ; then I folded
and packed away Mrs. Esther's things, while she laid her down to
rest awhile, for her spirits had been greatly agitated by my un-
reasonable behaviour. Then Cicely came to my room to help me,
and presently I saw her tears falling upon the liueu which she
folded and laid in the trunk.

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 295

' Foolish Cicely !' I said, thinking of my own foolishness, ' why
do you cry P'

' Oh, Miss Kitty,' she sobbed, ' who would not cry to see you
going away, never to come back again ? For I know you never,
never could come here any more after that dreadful carrying away
enough to frighten a maid into her grave. And besides, they say
that Epsom is going to be given up, and the Assembly Rooms
pulled down ; and we should not have had this gay season unless
it had been for my lord and his party at the Durdans. And what
we shall do, mother and me, I can't even think.'

Why, here was another trouble.

' Miss Kitty ' — this silly girl threw herself on her knees to me
and caught my hand — ' take me into your service when you marry
my lord.'

' How do you know I am to marry my lord, Cicely ? There are
many things which may happen to prevent it.'

' Oh, I know you will, because you are so beautiful and so good.'
I snatched my hand away. 'I haven't offended you, Miss Kitty,
have I ? All the world cries out that you are as good as you are
beautiful ; and haven't I seen you, for near two months, always
considerate, and never out of temper with anybody, not even with
me, or your hairdresser, or your dressmaker? Whereas, Miss
Peggy Baker slaps her maid, and sticks pins into her milliner.'

' That is enough, Cicely,' I said. ' I have no power to take
anybody into my service, being as penniless as yourself. But if —
if — that event should happen which you hope for — why — then — I
do not — say '

'It luill happen. Oh, I know that it will happen. I have
dreamed of it three times running, and always before midnight. I
threw a piece of apple-peel yesterday, and called it to name your
husband. It first made a Gr., which is Geoffrey, and then a C,
which is Chudleigh. And mother says that everything in the
house points to a wedding as true as she can read the signs. Oh !
Miss Kitty, may I be in your service ?'

I laughed and cried, I know not which, for the tears were very
near my eyes all that time.

But oh ! that thing did happen which she prophesied and I
longed for — I will quickly tell you how. And, as I have said
before, I took Cicely into my service, and a good and faithful
maid she proved, and married the curate. I forgot to say that
when young Lord Eardesley heard the story of his father's elope-
ment with Jenny Medlicott, he laughed, because his mother,
Jenny's friend and far-off cousin, had taken her away to Virginia
with her, where, after (I hope) the death of Joshua Crump, she
had married again. Jenny, it appeared, was the daughter of the
same alderman whose fall in 1720 ruined my poor ladies, And it
was for this reason that his lordship afterwards, when Cicely had
a houseful of babie*. took a fancy to them, and would have them,

296 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

when they were big enough, out to Virginia. Here he made tliera
overseers, and, in course of time, settled them on estates of their
own, where some of them prospered, and some, as happens in all
larjje families, wasted their substance and fell into poverty.

The next day, being Sunday, we spent chiefly over our devo-
tions. It was moving to hear the congregation invited to pray
for one in grievous danger — meaning poor Will, who would have
been better at this moment had he sometimes prayed for himself.
Nancy sat beside me in our pew, and caught my hand at the
words. One could not choose but weep, poor child ! for there was
no improvement in Will's fever : all night long the doctor had sat
beside his bed, while the lad, in his delirium, fancied himself
riding races, wrestling, boxing, and drinking with his boon com-
panions. A pitiful contrast! The pleasures of the world in his
mind, and eternity in prospect. Yet, for a man in delirium,
allowance must be made. The fever was now, in fact, at its
height, and four men were necessary to hold him down in his
ravings.

"We spent a gloomy Sunday indeed, Mrs. Esther being so sad-
dened by the anxieties of our friends that she resumed her reading
of ' Drelincourt on Death,' a book she had laid aside since we left
the Iiules. And we observed a fast, not so much from religious
motives, as because, in the words of Mrs. Esther, roast veal and
stuffing is certain to disagree when a heart of sensibility is moved
by the woes of those we love. In the evening we had it cold,
when Nancy came to sit with us, her eyes red with her weepinsr,
and we were fain to own that we were hungry after crying to-
gether all day long.

' Hot meat,' said Mrs. Esther, ' at such a juncture, would have
choked us.'

Nancy said, that after what had happened, it would certainly be
impossible for us to stay longer at Epsom, and that for herself,
all she hoped and expected now was shame and disgrace for the
rest of her life. She wished that there were convents in the
country to which she could repair for the rest of her days ; go
with her hair cut short, get up in the middle of the night for
service, and eat nothing but bread and water, ' For,' she said, ' I
shall never cease to think that my own brother tried, to do such a
wicked thing.'

Nancy as a nun made us all laugh, and so with spirits raised a
little, we kissed, and said farewell. Nancy promised to let me
know every other day by post, whatever the letter should cost,
how things went. It seemed to me, indeed, as if, seeing that
Will had not died in the first twenty-four hours, the chance was
somewhat in favour of his recovery. And he was so strong a man,
and so young. I sent a message of duty and respei't to Sir Eobert
— I dared not ask to have my name so much as mentioned to
Will's mother — aud left Nancy in her trouble, full of mine own.

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 297

Before we started next morning, Cicely went for news, but
there was no improvement. The stable-boy, she told me, was
going about the town, his arm bandaged up, saying that if ever a
man was murdered in cold blood it was his master, because he had
never a sword, and only a stick to defend himself with. Also.it
was reported that among the lower classes, the servants, grooms,
footmen, and such, the feeling was strong that the poor gentleman
had met with foul play. Asked whether they understood rightly
what Mr. Will Levett was doing, Cicely replied that they knew
very well, and that they considered he was doing a fine and gal-
lant thing, one which would confer as much honour upon the lady
as upon himself, which shows that in this world there is no opinion
too monstrous to be held by rough and uneducated people : where-
fore we ought the more carefully to guard the constitution and
prevent the rabble from having any share in public business, or
the control of affairs.

Our carriage took us to London in three hours, the road being
tolerably good, and so well frequented, after the first three miles,
that there was little fear of highway robbers or footpads. And so
we came back to our lodgings in Red Lion Street, after such a two
months as I believe never before fell to the lot of any girl.

Remember that I was a wife, yet a maiden ; married to a man
whom I had never seen except for a brief quarter of an hour, who
knew not my name, and had never seen me at all — making allow-
ance for the state ot drunkenness in which he was married; that
I knew this man's name, but he knew not mine ; that I met him
at Epsom, and that he had fallen in love with me, and I, God help
me! with him. Yet that there was no way out of it, no escape
but that before he could marry me (again) I must needs confess
the deceit of which I had been guilty. No Heaven, say the Roman
Catholics, without Purgatory. Yet suppose, after going through
Purgatory, one were to miss one's Heaven !

How could I best go to my lord and tell him ?

He was in hiding, in the Rules of the Fleet, and in our old
lodging looking over the Fleet Market by one window, and over
1'leetLane by the other — a pleasant lodging for so great a lord.
Could I go down to him, in hoops aud satin, to tell him in that
squalid place the whole truth ? Yet go I must.

Now, while we drove rapidly along the road, which is smooth
and even between Epsom, or at least between Streatham and
London, a thought came into my mind which wanted, after a little,
nothing but the consent of Mrs. Esther. A dozen times was I upon
the point of telling her all, and as many times did I refrain, because
T reflected that, although she knew all about the carrying away of
girls from the romances which she read, a secret marriage in the
Fleet, although she had lived so long in the Rules, and even knew
my uncle and thought him the greatest of men, was a thing outside
her experience, and would therefore, only terrify her and confuse
her. Therefore I resolved to tell her "0 more than I was obliged.

298 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

But then my plans made it necessary that I should leave her foi
a while — two or three days, perhaps, or even more.

So soon, therefore, as we had unpacked our trunks, and Mrs.
Esther was seated in an arm-chair to rest after the fatigues of the
rapid journey, I began upon the subject of getting away from her,
hypocritically pleading my duty towards the Doctor, my uncle. I
said that I thought I ought to pay him a visit, and that after my
return to London he would certainly take it unkindly if I did not ;
that, considering the character of the place in which he unhappily
resided, it was not to be thought that a person of Mrs. Esther's
sensibility could be exposed to its rudeness ; and that, with her
permission, I would the next day take a coach, and, unless the
Doctor detained me, I would return in the afternoon.

We had so firmly maintained our resolution to forget the past,
that Mrs. Esther only smiled when I spoke of the rudeness of the
market, and said that no doubt it was desirable for a gentlewoman
to keep away from rude and unpolished people, so that the elevation
of her mind might not be disturbed by unpleasant or harassing
scenes. At the same time, she added, there were reasons, doubtless,
why I should from time to time seek out that great and good man
(now in misfortune) to whom we all owed a debt of gratitude which
never could be repaid. She therefore gave me permission to go
there, it being understood that I was to be conveyed thither, and
back again, in a coach.

In the morning, after breakfast, I dressed myself for the journey,
and, because I thought it likely that I might remain for ODe night
at least, and perhaps more, I took with me a bag containing my
oldest and poorest clothes, those, namely, in which I was dressed
while in the market. Then I wrapped myself in a hood which I
could pull, if necessary, over my face, and, so disguised, I stole down
the stairs.

London streets are safe for a young woman in the morning, when
the throng of people to and fro keeps rogues honest. I walked
through Fetter Lane, remembering that here Solomon Stallabras
was born — indeed, I passed a little shop over which the name was
painted on a swinging sign of the Silver Garter, so that one of his
relatives still carried on the business. Then I walked along Fleet
Street, crowded with chairs, carriages, waggons, and porters. The
Templars were lounging about the gates of their Inns ; the windows
of the many vintners' houses were wide open, and within them
were gentlemen drinking wine, early &s it was ; the coffee-houses
were full of tradesmen who would have been better at home behind
their counters ; ladies were crowding into the shops, having things
turned over for them ; 'prentices jostled each other behind the
posts ; grave gentlemen walked slowly along, carrying their canes
oefore them, like wands of office ; swaggering young fellows took
the wall of everyone, except of each other ; the street was full of
the shouting, noise, and quarrelling which I remembered so well.

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 299

At the end was the bridge with its quacks bawling their wares
which they warranted to cure everything, and its women selling hot
furmety, oysters, and fish. Beyond the bridge rose before me the
old gate of Lud, which has since been pulled down, and on the left
was the Fleet Market, at sight of which, as of an old friend, I could
have burst into tears.

The touters and runners for the Fleet parsons were driving their
trade as merrily as ever. Among them I recognised my old friend
Eoger, who did not see me. By the blackness of one eye, and the
brown paper sticking to his forehead, one could guess that
competition among the brethren of his craft had been more than
usually severe of late.

Prosperity, I thought to myself, works speedy changes with us.
Was it really possible that I had spent six long months and more in
this stinking, noisy, and intolerable place 1 Why, could I have had
one moment of happiness when not only was I surrounded by
infamy in every shape, but I had no hope or prospect of being
rescued? In eight short months these things had grown to seem
impossible. Death itself, I thought, would be preferable to living
among such people and in the midst of such scenes.

I recognised them all : it gave me pain to feel how familiar they
were : the mean, scowling faces, stamped with the seal of wicked
lives and wicked thoughts — such faces must those souls wear who
are lost beyond redemption : and the deformed men and boys who
seemed to select this market as their favourite haunt. There are
many more deformed among the poor than with the better sort, by
reason of the accidents which befall their neglected children and
maim them for life. That would account for the presence of many
of these monsters, but not of all ; I suppose some of them come to
the market because the labour of handling and carrying the fruit
and vegetables is light, though poorly paid.

There were hunchbacks in great plenty ; those whose feet were
clubbed, whose legs were knock-kneed, whose feet were turned
inward, whose eyes squinted. I looked about me for — but did not
see — a certain dreadful woman whom I remembered, who sold shell-
fish at a stall and had fingers webbed like a duck ; but there was the
other dreadful woman still in her place, whose upper lip was horrid
to look at for hair ; there was the cobbler who refused to shave
because he said it was unscriptural, and so sat like one of the
ancients with a long white beard ; there were, alas ! the little
children, pale, hungry-looking, with eager, sharp eyes, in training for
the whip, the gallows, or the plantation. They ran about among
the baskets ; they sat or stood among the stalls waiting for odd jobs,
messages and parcels to carry ; they prowled about looking for
a chance to steal : it was all as I remembered it, yet had forgotten
so quickly. On the right the long wall of the Fleet Prison ; beyond
that, the Doctor's house, his name painted on the door. I pulled my
hood closer over my face and passed it by, because before paying my

30c THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

respects to my uncle I was going to make inquiries about the man
I loved.

He was, as I knew, in our old lodgings. He slept, unconscious,
in my room ; he sat where I had so often sat ; the place ought to
have reminded him. of me. But he knew nothing ; the name of
Kitty Pleydell was not yet associated in his mind with the Rules of
the Fleet.

When we went away, one of those who bade us God-speed and
shed tears over our departure was Mrs. Dunquerque, who, as I
have told, lived above us with her husband, Captain Dunquerque,
and her two little girls. The captain, who was not a good man or
a kind man, drank and gambled when he got any money, and left
his poor wife and children to starve. It was to her that I meant
to go. She was a kind-hearted woman, and fond of me for certain
favours I had been able to show her little girls. I was sure to
had her in the same lodgings, because in the Rules no one ever
changes.

I came to the house : I pulled the hood so close about my face
that had my lord met me he would not have known me. The door
was standing wide open, as usual. I entered and mounted the stairs.
The door of the room — our old room, on the first-floor — was half
open. Within — oh, my heart ! — I saw my lord sitting at the table,
with paper before him, pen in hand. I dared not wait, lest he
might discover me, but hastened upstairs to Mrs. Dunquerque's room.

I was fortunate enough to find her at home. The captain was
gone abroad, and had taken the children with him for a morning's
walk. She sat at home, as usual, darning, mending, and making.
But oh ! the cry of pleasure and surprise when she saw me, and the
kisses she gave me, and the praise at my appearance, and the ques ■
tions after Mrs. Esther ! I told her of all, including Sir Miles
Lackington and Solomon Stallabras's good fortune. Then she began
to tell me of hesself. They were as poor as when we went away ;
but their circumstances had improved in one important particular ;
for though the captain was no more considerate (as I guessed from
a word she dropped), and drank and gambled whenever he could,
they had a friend who sent them without fail what was more use-
ful to them than mouey — food and clothes for the children and their
mother. She did not know who the friend was, but the supplies
never failed, being as regular as those brought by the prophet's
ravens.

I did not need to be told the name of this friend, for, in truth,
I had myself begged the Doctor to extend his charity to this poor
family, and asked him to send them beef and pudding, which the
children could eat, rather than money, which the captaiu would
drink. This he promised to do. Truly, charity, in his case, ought
to have covered a multitude of sins, for he had a hand ever open to
give, and a heart to pity ; moreover, he gave in secret, ami never did
his right hand know what his left hand was doiti"

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 301

Then I opened my business to Mrs. Dunquerque, but only
partially.

I told her that on the first-floor, in the rooms formerly occupied
by ourselves, there was a young gentleman, well known to Sir Miles
Lackington, who had reason to be out of sight for a short time ;
that he was also known to myself — here I blushed, and my friend
nodded and laughed, being interested, as all women are, in the dis-
covery of a love secret ; that I was anxious for his welfare ; that
I had made the excuse of paying a visit to the Doctor in order to
be near him : that, in fact, I would be about him, wait upon him,
and watch over him, without his knowledge of my presence.

'But he will most certainly know thee, child,' she cried. 'Tell
me, my dear, is he in love with thee V
' He says so,' I replied. ' Perhaps he tells the truth.'
'And you 1 Oh, Kitty, to think of you only a year ago !'
'There is no doubt about me,' I said ; ' for, oh ! dear Mrs. Dun-
querque, I am head over ears in love with him. Yet I will so con-
trive that he shall not know me, if you will help.'
' And what can I do V

' Make his acquaintance ; go and see him ; tell him that he must
want some one to do for him ; oifer to send him your maid Phoebe
— yes, Phoebe. Then I will go, and, if he speaks to me, which is
not likely, I will answer in a feigned voice. Go, now, Mrs. Dun-
querque. I will dress for Phcebe.'
She laughed and went away.

My lord lifted his head as she knocked at the door.
' I ask your pardon, sir,' she said, ' for this intrusion. I live
above you, upon the second-floor, with my husband and children. I
suppose, sir, that, like the rest of us in this place, you come here
because you cannot help it, and a pity it is to find so young a gentle-
man thus early shipwrecked.'

' I thank you, madam,' said my lord, bowing, ' for this good-
will.'

' The will is nothing, sir, because peopie in misfortune ought to
help each other when they can. Therefore, sir, and because I per-
ceive that your room is not what a gentleman's should be, being
inch thick with dust, I will, with your permission, send down my
maid when you go out, who may make you clean and tidy.'

' I shall not go out,' replied my lord ; ' but I thank you for the
offer of the girl. I dare say the place might be cleaner.'

'She is a girl, sir,' replied Mrs. Dunquerque, 'who will not dis-
turb you by any idle chatter. Phcebe !' Here she stepped out
upon the stairs. ' Phoebe ! Come downstairs this minute, and bring
a duster.'

When Phoebe came, she was a girl whose hair was pulled over
her eyes, and she had the corner of her apron in her mouth ; she
wore a brown stuff frock, not down to her ankles ; her hands were
whiter than is generally found in a servant ; her apron was of the

302 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

kind which servant-maids use to protect their frocks, and she wore
a great cap tied under the chin and awry, as happens to maids in
the course of their work ; in one respect, beside her hands, Phoebe
was different from the ordinary run of maidservants — her shoes
and stockings were so fine that she feared his lordship would notice
them.

But he noticed her not at all — neither shoes, nor hands, nor cap,
nor apron, which, though it was foolish, made this servant-girl feel
a little pained.

' Phoebe,' said Mrs. Dunquerque, ' you will wait upon this gentle-
man, and fetch him what he wants. And now do bat look at the
dust everywhere. Saw one ever such untidiness ? Quick, girl, with
the duster, and make things clean. Dear me ! to think of this poor
gentleman sitting up to his eyes, as one may say, in a peck of
dust!'

She stood in the nom, with her work in her hand, rattling on
about the furniture and the fineness of the day, and the brightness
of the room, which had two windows, and the noise of the market,
which, she said, the young gentleman would mind, more than nothing
at all, after a while. As for the dreadful language of the porters
and fish-wives, that, she said, was not pleasant at first, but after a
little one got, so to say, used to it, and you no more expected that
one of these wretches should speak without breaking the third com-
mandment and shocking ears used to words of purity and piety,
than you would expect his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury
himself to use the language of the market. She advised the young
gentleman, further, for his own good, not to sit alone and mope, but
to go abroad and ruffle it with the rest, to keep a stout heart, to re-
member that Fortune frowns one day and smiles the next, being a
deity quite capricious and untrustworthy; therefore that it behoved
a young man to have hope ; and she exhorted him in this end to
seek out cheerful company, such as that of the great Doctor Shovel,
the only Chaplain of the Fleet, as learned as a bishop and as merry
as a monk : or even to repair to the prison and play tennis and
racquets with the gentlemen therein confiued : but, above all, not
to sit alone and brood. Why, had he never a sweetheart to whom
he could write, and send sweet words of love, whereby the heart of
the poor thing would be lightened, and her affections lixed ?

So she rattled on, while I, nothing loth, plied duster, and cleaned
up furniture with a zeal surpassing that of any housemaid. Yet,
because men never observe what is under their eyes, he observed
nothing of all this activity. If I had crawled as slowly as possible
over the work, it would have been all one to him.

Presently I came to the table at which he was sitting. This, too,
was covered with dust. (It had been our table formerly, and had
grown old in the service of the Pimpernel ladies. ) I brushed away
the dust with great care, and in so doing, I saw that he had a letter be-
fore him, just begun. It commenced with these enchanting wor

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 303

' Love of my soul ! My goddess Kitty -

Oh that I could have fallen at his feet, then and there, and told
him all ! But I could not ; I was afraid.

He had, as yet, written nothing more. But on a piece of paper
beside the letter he had traced the outlines of a woman's head.
Whose head should it be, I ask you, but Kitty's 1

I was amazed at the sight. My colour came and went.

'Phoebe,' cried Mrs. Dunquerque, warningly, 'be careful how
you touch the papers ! There, sir, we have your room straight for
you. It looks a little cleaner than it did awhile since.'

' Surely,' he replied, without looking around. ' Yes, I am truly
obliged to you, madam. As for this girl ' — still he would not look
at me — ' perhaps '

He placed a whole crown-piece in my hand. A crown-piece for
such a simple piece of work ! Enough to make the best of house-
maids grasping ! This is how men spoil servants.

' Can I get you auything, sir V I asked, in a feigned voice.

'Nothing, child, nothing. Stay — yes. One must eat a little,
sometimes. Get me some dinner by-aud-by.'

This was all for that time. We went away, and we spent the
rest of the morning in making him such a little dinner as we
thought must please him. First we got from the market a breast of
veal, which we roasted with a little stuffing, and dished with a slice
or two of bacon, nicely broiled, some melted butter made with care,
and a lemon. This, to my mind, forms a dish fit for a prince. We
added to this some haricot beans, with butter and sweet herbs, and
a dish of young potatoes. Then we made a little fruit pudding and
a custard, nicely browned, and, at two o'clock, put all upon a tray,
and I carried it downstairs, still with my hair over my eyes, my cap
still awry, and the corner of the apron still in my teeth.

I set the food before him and waited to serve him. But he would
not let me.

Ah ! had he known how I longed to do something for him, and
what a happiness it was simply to make his dinner, to prepare hia
vegetables for him, and to boil his pudding ! But how should he
guess 1

I found Sir Miles's bottle of wine untouched in the cupboard,
and placed it on the table. Then I left him to his meal. When I
returned, I found he had eaten next to nothing. One could have
cried with vexation.

' Lord, sir,' I said, still in my feigned voice, ' if you do not eat
you will be ill. Is there never a body that loves you ¥

He started, but hardly looked at me.

' A trick of voice,' he said. ' Yet it reminded me — Is there
anybody who loves me, child ? I think there is. To be sure, there
is some one whom I love.'

' Then, sir, you ought to eat, if only to please her, by keeping
well and strong.'

304 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Well, well ! I dare say I shall be hungry to-morrow. You can
take away the things, Phcebe, if that is what they call you.'

I could say no more, but was fain to obey. Then, as I could do
no more for him, I took up the tray and resolved to go and see the
Doctor, with whom I had much to say. Therefore I put off my
servant's garb, with the apron and cap, and drew the hood over my
face again.

The Doctor's busy time was in the morning. In the afternoon,
after dinner, he mostly slept in his arm-chair, over a pipe of tobacco.
I found him alone thus enjoying himself. I know not whether he
slept or meditated, for the tobacco was still burning, though his
eyes were closed.

There is this peculiarity about noise in London, that people who
live in it and sleep in it, do not notice it. Thus while there was a
horrible altercation outside his very windows — a thing which hap-
pened every day, and all day long — the Doctor regarded it not at
all. Yet he heard me open and shut the door, and was awake in-
stantly.

' Kitty !' he cried. ' Why, child, what dost thou here ?'

' I hope, sir,' I said, ' that I find you in good health and spirits.'

' Reasonable good, Kitty. A man of my years, be he never so
temperate and regular in his habits, finds the slow tooth of time
gnawing upon him. Let me look at thy face. Humph ! one would
say that the air of Epsom is good for young maids' cheeks. But why
in Fleet Market, child V

'Partly, sir, I came to see you, and partly '

4 To see some one else, of whose lodging in the Rules I have been
told by Sir Miles Lackington. Tell me — the young man whom he
wounded, is he dead V

'Nay, sir, not dead, but grievously wounded, and in a high
fever.'

' So. A man in early manhood, who has been wounded by a
sword running through his vitals, who four days after the event is
still living, though in a high fever — that man, methinks, is likely to
recover, unless his physician, as is generally the case, is an ass. For,
my dear, there are as many incompetent physicians as there are in-
capable preachers. Their name is Legion. Well, Kitty, you came
about Lord Chudleigh. Have you seen him ?'

'Yes ; but, sir, he does not know that I am here. I saw him'
— here I blushed again — ' in disguise as a housemaid.'

' Ho ! ho ! ho !' laughed the Doctor. 'Why, girl, thou hast more
spirit than I gave thee credit for. Thou deservest him, and shalt
have him, too. The time is come.' He rose and folded his gown
about him, and put on his wig, which for coolness' sake he had
laid aside. ' I will go to him and say, " My lord, the person to
whom you were married is no other than " '

'Oh! no, sir. I pray you do not speak to him in such fashion
Pray hear me first.'

HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON. 305

'Well— well. Let us hear this little baggage.' The Doctor was
in very good spirits, and eager to unfold his tale. He sat down
again, however, and took up his pipe. ' Go on, then, Kitty ; go
on — I am listening.'

This was, indeed, a very critical moment of my life. For on
this moment depended, I foresaw, all my happiness. I therefore
hesitated a little, thinking what to say and how to say it. Then
I began.

I reminded my uncle that, when I first came under his protection,
I was a young girl fresh from the country, who knew but little evil,
suspected none, and in all things had been taught to respect and
fear my betters. I then reminded him how, while in this discipline
of mind, I was one morning called away by him, and ordered to go
through a certain form which (granting that I well knew it to be
the English form of marriage service) I could not really believe to
mean that I was married. And though my uncle assured me after-
wards that such was the case, I so little comprehended that it could
be possible, that I had almost forgotten the whole event. Then, I
said, we had gone away from the Kules of the Fleet, and found
ourselves under happier circumstances, where new duties made me
still more forget this strange thing. Presently we went to Epsom,
whither, in the strangest way, repaired the very man I had married.

After this, I told him, the most wonderful thing in the world
happened to me. For not only did my lord fall in love with me, his
legal wife, but he gave me to understand that the only obstacle to
his marrying me was that business in the Fleet, of which he informed
me at length.

' Very good,' said the Doctor. ' Things could not go better. If
the man has fallen in love with the girl, he ought to be pleased that
she is his wife.'

Nay : that would not do either ; for here another thing of which
the Doctor had no experience, being a man. For when a woman
falls in love with a man she must needs make herself as virtuous
and pure in mind as she is brave in her dress, in order the more to
please him and fix his affection. And what sort of love would that
be where a woman should glory, as it were, in deception 1

Why, his love would be changed, if not into loathing, then into a
lower kind of love, in which admiration of a woman's beauty forms
the whole part. Now, if beauty is everything, even Helen of Troy
would be a miserable woman, a month after marriage, when her
husband would grow tired of her.

' Alas !' I cried, ' I love him. If you tell him, as he must now be
told, that I was the woman who took a part in that shameful
business — yes, sir, even to your face I must needs call it shameful —
you may tell him at once that I release him so far as I can. I will
not acknowledge the marriage. I will go into no court of law, nor
will I give any evidence to establish my rights '

' Whom God hath joined ' the Doctor began.

20

306 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

' Oh ! I know — I know. And you are a clergyman of the Church,
with power and authority by laying on of hands. Yet I cannot
think, I cannot feel that any blessing of heaven could rest upon a
union performed in such a place. Is this room, nightly desecrated
by revellers, a church ? Is your profligate wretch Roger a clerk ?
Where were the banns put up ? What bells were rung V

' Banns are no longer fashionable,' be replied. ' But let me think.'
He was not angry with my plainness of speech, but rather the con-
trary. 'Let me think.' He went to his cupboard, took out his
great register, and turned over the leaves. ' Ay ! here it is, having
a page to itself : Geoffrey Lord Chudleigh to Catherine Pleydell.
Your ladyship is as truly Lady Chudleigh as his mother was before
him. But if you ivill give up that title and dignity ' — here he
smiled and tore out the page, but carefully — ' I will not baulk thee,
child. Here is the register, and here the certificate of the wedding.'
He put both togethei*, and laid them carefully aside. ' Come to me
to-morrow, and I will then go with you to his lordship and give him
these papers to deal with as he pleases.'

CHAPTER THE LAST.

HOW LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVED HIS FREEDOM.

I RETURNED to my lodging, there to await the event of the next
morning. My lord would learn that he was free — so far good. But
with his freedom would come the news that the woman who restored
it to him was the same who had taken it away, and the same whom
he had professed to love. Alas ! poor Kitty !

Now was I like unto a man sentenced to death, yet allowed to
choose the form of his execution, whether he would be hanged,
poisoned, beheaded, stabbed, shot, drowned, or pushed violently and
suddenly out of life in some other manner which he might prefer.
As the time approaches, his anxiety grows the greater until the
fatal moment arrives when he must choose at once ; then, in trouble
and confusion, he very likely chooses that very method which is
most painful in the contemplation and the endurance. So with me.
T might choose the manner of telling my lover all, but tell him I
must. ' Pray Heaven,' I said, ' to direct me into the best way.' Iu
the afternoon I became once more Phoebe.

Phoebe carried a dish of tea ; would the gentleman choose to taste
it 1 He took it from Phcebe's hand, drank it, and returned to his
writing, which was, I believe, a continuation of that letter, the
commencement of which I had seen.

In the evening Sir Miles paid him a visit of consolation. He
drank up what w:»s left of the bottle, and, after staying an hour or

LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVES HIS FREEDOM. 307

so, went away, noisily promising himself a jovial night with the
Doctor.

At eight o'clock Phcebe brought a tray with cold meat upon it,
but my lord would take none, only bidding her to set it down and
leave him.

'Can I do nothing more for you, sir?' asked the maid.

He started again.

' Your voice, child,' he said (although I had disguised my voice),
'reminds of one whose voice — — '

'La, sir !' she asked. ' Is it the voice of your sweetheart ?'

He only sighed and sat down again. Phoebe lingered as long as
she could, and then she went away.

Then we all went to bed. Captain Dunquerque had by thi-i
time brought home the little girls and gone to the Doctor's, where,
with Sir Miles and the rest, he was making a night of it.

It was a hot night : the window was open ; the noise of the

■'5

brawling and fighting below was intolerable ; the smell from the
market was worse than anything I remembered, and the bed was a
strange one. Added to all this, my cares were so great that I could
not sleep. Presently I arose and looked out, just as I had done a
year before when first I came to my uncle for protection. Every-
thing was the same ; there was light enough to see the groups of
those who talked and the forms of those who slept. I remembered
the old and the young, as I had seen them in the bright light of a
July dawn : poor wretches, destined from their birth to be soldiers
of the devil ; elected for disgrace and shame ; born for Newgate
and Bridewell ; brought into the world for the whipping-post, the
cart-tail, and the gallows. Just the same ; and I alone changed.
For beneath me, all unconscious, was one whom I might call my
husband. Then my thoughts went wholly out to him; then I
could neither sit nor rest, nor stand still with thinking of the next
day, and what I had to say <md how to say it. Oh, my love— my
dear— could I bear to give him up ? could I bear to see him turn
away those eyes which had never looked upon me save with kind-
ness and affection ? Could I endure to think that his love was
gone from me altogether ? Death was better, if death would come.

Then, crazed, I think, with trouble, I crept slowly from the
room, and went down the stair till I reached the door of the room
where my lord was lying. And here I went on like a mad thing,
having just enough sense to keep silence, yet weeping without re-
straint, wringing my hands, praying, offering to Heaven the
sacrifice of my life, if only my lover w r ould not harden his heart
to me, and kissing the while the very senseless wood of the door.

Within the room he was sleeping unconscious ; without I was
silently crying and weeping, full of shame and anxiety, not daring
to hope, yet knowing full well his noble heart. Why, had I, weeks
before, dared to tell him all, forgiveness would have been mine ; I
knew it well. Yet now, in such a place, when he was reminded of

20—2

308 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

the companions, or at least the creatures, who had surrounded her,
would he not harden his heart and refuse to believe that any
virtue, any purity could survive ?

All this was of no avail. When I was calmed a little I returned
to my own room and sat upon the bed, wondering whether any
woman was so miserable in her shame as myself.

The long minutes crept on slowly : the daylight was dawning :
the night had passed away : Captain Dunquerque had rolled up
the stairs noisily, singing a drunken song : the revellers below
were quiet, but the morning carts had begun when I fell asleep for
weariness, and when I awoke the sun was high. So I arose,
dressed, and hastened downstairs, hoping to see the Doctor before
he sallied forth.

There had been, Roger told me with a smile, a great night. He
meant that the Doctor's guests had been many, and their calls for
punch numerous. Sir Miles had been carried away to some place
in the neighbourhood. The Doctor was still abed.

While we talked he appeared, no whit the worse for his night's
potations. Yet I thought his face was of a deeper purple than of
old, and his neck thicker. That was very likely an idle fancy,
because a few months could make but little difference in a man of
his fixed habits.

' Well, Kitty ' — he was in good humour, and apparently satisfied
with the position of things — ' I have thought over thy discourse
of yesterday, which, I confess, greatly moved me : first, because I
did not know thee to be a girl of such spirit, courage, and dignity ;
and second, because I now perceive that the marriage, performed
in thy interest, was perhaps, as things have now turned out (which
is surely providential), a mistake. Yet was it done for the best, and
I repent me not. Come, then, to my lord, and let me talk to him.'

' First, sir,' I begged, ' tell him not my name.'

He promised this ; though, as he said, the name was on the
register ; and it was agreed between us that he should speak to my
lord privately, and then that he was to call me, when I should play
my part as best I could.

The Doctor led the way. When he entered the room I ran up-
stairs, and with trembling hands made myself as fine as I could ;
that is, I was but in morning dishabille, but I dressed my hair, and
put those little touches to my frock and ribbons which every woman
understands. And then I put on my hood, which I pulled quite
over my face, and waited.

My lord rose angrily when he saw the Doctor.

' Sir,' he said, ' this visit is an intrusion. I have no business with
you ; I do not desire to see you. Leave the room immediately !'

' First,' said Doctor Shovel, ' I have business with your lordship.'

'I can have no business with you,' replied Lord Chudleigh. "I
have already had too much business with you. Go, sir : your in-
trusion is au insult.'

LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVES HIS FREEDOM. 309

1 Dear, dear !' the Doctor replied. ' This it is to be young and
hot-headed and to jump at conclusions. Whereas, did the young
gentleman know the things I have to ray, he would welcome me
with open arms.'

' You come, I suppose, to remind me of a thing of which you
ought to be truly ashamed, so wicked was it.'

' Nay, nay ; not so wicked as your lordship thinks.' The Doctor
would not be put out of temper. ' What a benefactor is he who
makes young people happy, with the blessing of the Church !'

'I cannot, I suppose, use violence to this man,' said the other.
'He is a clergyman, and, for the sake of his cloth, must be tolerated.
Would you kindly, sir, proceed at once to the business you have in
hand and then begone ? If you come to laugh over the misfortune
caused by yourself, laugh and go your way. If you come for money
for the wretched accomplice in your conspiracy, ask it and go. In
any case, sir, make haste.'

' My lord,' the Doctor replied, ' I am a messenger — from one who
conceives that she hath clone you grievous wrong, is very sorry for
the past, which she alone can undo, and begs your forgiveness.'

'Who is that person, then?' His curiosity was roused, and he
waited in patience to hear what the Doctor might have to say.

'It is, my lord, the lady who may, if she chooses, call herself your
■wife.'

My lord stood confused.

' Does she wish to see me ?'

' She wishes to place in your hands ' — here the Doctor's voice be-
came deeper and more musical, like the low notes of a great organ
— ' the proofs of her marriage with you. Does your lordship com-
prehend ? She will stand before you, bringing with her the only
papers which exist to prove the fact. She will put them in your
own hands, if you wish ; she will destroy them before your eyes if
you wish ; and she will then retire from your presence, and you shall
never know, unless you wish it, the name of the woman you married.'

'But . This is wonderful. How shall I know that the

papers are the only proof of the ceremony V

' Your lordship has my word — my word of a Christian priest. I
break the laws of God and of man daily. I am, however, a sinner
who still guard", those rags and tatters of a conscience which most
sinners hasten to throw away — wherefore must my repentance be
some day greater. Yet, my lord, my word I never brake, nor ever
looked to hear it questioned. You shall have all the proofs. You
shall be free if you please, from this moment. You shall never be
molested, reproached, threatened, or reminded of the past.'

'Free!' my lord repeated, looking the Doctor in the face. 'I
caimot but believe sir, what you solemnly aver to be the truth. Yet
what am I to think of this generosity ? how interpret it 1 By what
acts have I deserved it ? What am I to do in return I Is there
any pitfall or snare for me V

310 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET

' In return, you will grant her your forgiveness. That is a pitfall,
if you please. You will also expect a surprise.'

' Strange !' said Lord Chudleigh. ' Kitty asked me, too, to for-
give this woman. My forgiveness ! Does she ask for no money V

' My lord, you are utterly deceived in your belief as to this woman
and her conduct. By your leave I will tell you the exact truth.

' You know, because I told you, that the wrong inflicted upon me
by your father was my justification, from a worldly point of view,
for the advantage which I took of your condition. You think, I
suppose, that some miserable drab was brought in from the market
to play the part of dummy wife, and threaten you and persecute
you for money. You are wrong.

' There was living in this place at the time, with a lady of ruined
fortunes, a young woman of gentle birth (by her father's side),
though penniless. She was beautiful exceedingly, well educated, a
God-fearing damsel, and a good girl. By her mother's side she was
my niece, that branch of her family being of obscure origin. On
the death of her father she became for a time my ward, which was
the reason why she lived here — no fit place for a girl of good repu-
tation, I own, though at the time I could do no better for her.
She was not only all that I have described her in appearance, car-
riage, and virtues, but she was, as well, very much afraid of me, her
guardian. She had been brought up to obey without questioning
Aier spiritual pastors and masters and all who might be placed in
authority over her. This girl it was whom you married.'

The Doctor paused, to let his words have due effect.

' When I designed the tvactiery, you being then sound asleep, it
first seemed to me that the fitting person for such a revenge as I at
first proposed to myself would be one of those women who are con-
fined to the Fleet for life, unless by hook or crook they can get
them a husband. Such a one I sent for. I did not disclose the
name of the man I proposed, because I found her only too eager
to marry anyone upon whom she could saddle her debts, and so
make him either pay them or change places with her. But while
I talked with the woman I thought how cruel a thing it would be
for your lordship to be mated with such a wife, and I resolved, if
I did give you a wife against your knowledge, that she should be
worthy to bear your name. Accordingly I despatched this person,
who is still, I suppose, languishing in the prison hard by, and sent
for the young lady.

' She came unsuspiciously. I told her, with a frown which made
her tremble, that she was to obey me in all that I ordered her to
do ; and I bade her, then, take her place at the table, and repeat
such words as I should command. She obeyed. Your lordship
knows the rest.'

'But she knew— she must have known— that she was actually
married V

' She could not understand. She had seen marriages performed;

LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVES HIS FREEDOM. 311

but then it was in a church, with regular forms. She did not
know until I told her. Besides, I ordered her ; and, had my com-
mand been to throw herself from a high tower, she would have
obeyed. She was not yet seventeen ; she was country-bred, and
she was innocence itself.'

' Poor child,' said my lord.

'She has left the Rules of the Fleet for some time. She knows
that at any time she might claim the name and the honours of your
wife, but she has refrained, though she lias had hundreds of oppor-
tunities. Now, however, she declares that she will be no longer a
party to the conspiracy, and she is desirous of restoring, into your
own hands, the papers of the marriage. Will your lordship, tirst,
forgive her?'

'Tell her,' said my lord, 'that I forgive her freely. Where is she I'

'She waits without.'

Then he called me, but not by name.

My knees trembled and shook beneath me as I rose, pulled the
hood tighter over my face, and followed the Doctor into the room.
In my hand I held the papers.

'This,' said the Doctor, is the young gentlewoman of whom we
spoke. The papers are in her hands. Child, give his lordship the
papers.'

I held them out, and he took them. All this time he never
ceased gazing at me ; but he could see nothing, not even my eyes.

'Are we playing a comedy V he asked. 'Dr. Shovel, are we dream-
ing, all of us V

' Everything, my lord, is real. You bold in your hands the certi-
ficate of marriage and the register. Not copies — the actual docu-
ments. Before you read the papers and learn the lady's name, tell
her, in my hearing, that you forgive her. She bids me tell you, for
her, that since she learned the thing that she had done, what it
meant, and whose happiness it threatened, she has had no happy day.'
Forgiveness !' said my lord, in a voice strangely moved, while his
eyes softened. ' Forgiveness, madam, is a poor word t© express
what I feel in return for this most generous deed. It is a thing
for which I can find no words sufficient to let you know how great
is my gratitude. Learn, madam, that my heart is bestowed upon a
woman whose perfections, to my mind, are such that no man is
worthy of her ; but she hath graciously been pleased to accept, and
even to return my affection. Now by this act, because I cannot
think that we are bound together in the eyes of the Church by that
form of marriage service '

' It is a question,' said the Doctor, ' which it would task the learn-
ing of the whole country to decide. By ecclesiastical law — but let
us leave this question unconsidered. Nothing need ever be said
about the matter. Your lordship is free.'

'Then' — he still held the papers in his hand, and seemed in no
way anxious to satisfy his curiosity as to the name of the woman

3 i2 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

who had caused so much anxiety — ' before we part, perhaps never
to meet again, may I ask to be allowed to see the face of the lady
who has performed this wonderful act of generosity ]'

I trembled, but made no answer.

' Stay a moment,' he said. ' Remember that you have given up a
goodly estate, with a large fortune and au ancient name— things
which all women rightly prize. These things you have given away.
Do you repent V

I shook my head.

'Then let me never know' — he tore the papers into a thousand
fragments — ' let me never know the name of the woman to whom
I owe this gift. Let me think of her as of an angel !'

The Doctor took me by the arm as if to lead me away.

' Since you do not want to know her name, my lord, I do not see
any reason why you should. Let us go, child.'

' May I only see her face V he asked.

' Come, child,' urged the Doctor ; ' come away. There is no need,
my lord.'

But those words about myself, his nobleness, had touched me to
the heart. I could deceive him no longer. I threw back the
hood, put up my hands to my face, and fell at his feet, crying and
sobbing.

' It is I, my lord ! It was Kitty Pleydell herself— the woman
whom you thought so good. Oh, forgive me ! forgive me 1 Have

Now I seem to have no words to tell how he raised me in his
strong arms, how he held me by the waist and kissed me, crying
that indeed there was nothing in his heart towards me but love
and tenderness.

Would it not be a sin to write down those words of love and
endearment with which, when the Doctor left us alone, he consoled
and soothed me ? I hid nothing from him. I told him how I had
well-nigh forgotten the dreadful thing I had done until I saw him
again at the Assembly ; how from day to day my conscience smote
me more and more, and yet I dared not tell him all — for fear o
losing his respect.

Let us pass this over.

The story of Kitty is nearly told.

"We forgot all about poor Will and the reason why my lord shoulc
for a while lie close. We agreed that we would be married, quietly
in due form, and of course at church, as soon as arrangements couk
be made. And then nothing would do but my lord must carry m<
to Mrs. Esther, and formally ask her permission to the engage
ment.

You may think how happy was I to step into the coach whicl
brought me back to my dear lady, with such a companion.

He led me into her presence with a stately bow.

4 Madam,' he said, *I have the honour to ask your permission t<

LORD CHUDLEIGH RECEIVES HIS FREEDOM 313

take the hand of your ward, Miss Kitty, who hath been pleased to
lend a favourable ear to my proposals. Be assured, dear madam,
that we have seriously weighed and considered the gravity of the
step which we propose to take, and the inclination of our hearts.
And I beg you, madam, to believe that my whole life, whether
it be long or short, shall be devoted to making this dear girl
as happy as it is in the power of one human creature to make
another.'

Mrs. Esther was perfectly equal to the proper ceremonies de-
manded for the occasion, although, as she confessed, she was a great
deal surprised at the suddenness of the thing, which, notwithstand-
ing that she had expected it for many weeks, came upon her with
a shock. She said that his lordship's proposal was one which the
world would no doubt consider a great condescension, seeing that
her dear Kitty, though of good family, had no other prospects than
the inheritance of the few hundreds which made her own income :
but, for her own part, knowing this child as she did— and here she
spoke in terms of unmerited praise of beauty and goodness and
such qualities as I could lay but small claim to possess, yet resolved
to aim at them.

Finally, she held out her own hand to his lordship, saying :

' Therefore, nry lord, as I consider Kitty my daughter, so hence-
forth will I consider you my son. And may God keep and bless
you both, and give you all that the heart of a good man may de-
sire, with children good and dutiful, long and peaceful lives, and in
the end, to sit together for ever in happy heaven.'

Whereupon she wept, falling on my neck .

Now, while we were thus weeping and crying, came Sir Miles,
who immediately guessed the cause, and wished my lord joy, shak-
ing him by the hand. Then he must needs kiss my hand.

'The Doctor,' he explained, 'told me where I should most
likely find you. The Doctor's knowledge of the human heart is
most extensive. I would I had the Doctor's head for punch. My
lord, this is a lucky day. Will Levett is out of his fever, and hath
signed a written confession that your sword was drawn in self-
defence, and that had he not been run through, his cudgel would
have beaten out your brains. Therefore there is no more to keep us
in hiding, and we may go about joyfully in the open, as gentlemen
should. And as for Will, he may die or live, as seemeth him
best.'

' Nay, Sir Miles,' I said. ' Pray that the poor lad live and lead a
better life.'

This is the story of Kitty Pleydell : how she came to London,
and lived in the Rules of the Fleet : how she was made to go
through the form of a marriage : how she left the dreadful, noisy,
wicked place : how she went to Epsom : how Lord Chudleigh fell
in love with her, to her unspeakable happiness ; and how she told

314 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.

him her great secret. The rest, which is the history of a great
and noble man married to a wife whose weakness was guided and
led by him in the paths of virtue, discretion and godliness, cannot
be told.

I bave told what befell some of the actors in this story — Solomon
Stallabras, I have explained, married the brewer's widow : Will
Levett recovered and did not repent, but lived a worse life after
his narrow escape than before. As for the rest, Mrs. Esther re-
mained with us, either at Chudleigh Court or our town house :
Harry Temple was wise enough to give up pining after what he
could not get, and married Nancy, so that she, too, had her heart's
desire : Sir Miles went on alternately gaming and drinking, till he
died of an apoplexy at forty.

There remains to be told the fate of the Chaplain of the Fleet.
When they passed the Marriage Act of 1753, the Fleet weddings
were suddenly stopped. They had been a scandal to the town for
more than forty years, so that it was high time they should be
ended. But when the end actually came, the Doctor, who had
saved no money, was penniless. Nor could he earn money in any
way whatever, nor had he any friends, although there were hun-
dreds of grateful hearts among the poor creatures around him. Who
could contribute to his support except ourselves ?

Mrs. Esther, on learning his sad condition, instantly wrote to offer
him half her income. My husband, for his part, sent a lawyer
among his creditors, found out for what sum he could effect a release,
paid this money, which was no great amount, and sent him his dis-
charge. Then, because the Doctor would have been unhappy out of
London, he made him a weekly allowance of five guineas, reckoning
that he would live on one guinea, drink two guineas, and give away
two. He lived to enjoy this allowance for ten years more, going
every night to a coffee-house, where he met his friends, drank punch,
told stories, sang songs, and was the oracle of the company. He
took great pride in the position which he had once occupied in the
Rules of the Fleet, and was never tired of boasting how many
couples he had made into man and wife.

I know that his life was disreputable and his pleasures coarse, yet
when I think of the Doctor and of his many acts of kindness and
charity, I remember certain texts, and I think we have reasonable
ground for a Christian's hope as regards his deathbed repentance,
which was as sincere as it was edifying.

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The World Well Lost.
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Gentle and Simple.

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Lost Sir Massing- | Like Father, Like

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The Mystery of Marie Roget.

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It Is Never Too Late to Mend.
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Put Yourself in His Place.
The Double Marriage.
Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
Foul Play.

The Cloister and the Hearth.
The Course of True Love.
Autobiography of a Thief.
A Terrible Temptation.
The Wandering Heir.
A Simpleton. I A Woman Hater.

Readiana. | The Jilt.

Singleheart and Doubleface.
Good StoWes of Man and other
Animals.

BY MRS. J. II. RIDDELL.
Her Mother's Darling.
Prince of Wales's Garden Party
Weird Stories. | Fairy Water.'
The Uninhabited House.
The Mystery in Palace Gardens

BY F. W. ROBINSON.
Women are Strange.
Tho Hands of Justice.

32 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO & WINDUS.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY JAMES RUN CI MAN.
Skippers and Shellbacks.
Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.
Schools and Scholars.

BY W CLARK RUSSELL.
Round the Galley Fire.
On the Fo'k'sle Head.
In the Middle Watch.
A Vovage to the Cape-

BY BAYLE ST. JOHN.
A Levantine Family.
BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
Gaslight and Daylight.

%Y JOHN SAUNDERS.
Bound to the Wheel.
One Against the World.
Guy Waterman.
The Lion in the Path.

Two Dreamers.

BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS.
Joan Merryweather.
Margaret and Elizabeth.
The High Mills. ,„,_,.
Heart Salvage. Sebastian.
BY GEORGE R. SIMS.
Rogues and Vagabonds.
The Ring o' Bells.
Marv Jane's Memoirs.

BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.
A Match In the Dark.

BY T. W. SPEIGHT.
The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.

BY R. A. STERNDALE.
The Afghan Knife.

BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON.
New Arabian Nights. | Prince Otto.

BY BERTHA THOMAS.
Cressida. I Proud Malsle.

™* B yt Pl tf0Y- THOMAS.

^ITwaLterthornbury.

Tales for the Marines.
BY T. ADOLPHUS TR0LL0PE.
Diamond Cut Diamond.

BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
The Way Wo Live Now.
The American Senator.
Frau Frohmann.
Marion Fay.
Kept in the Dark.
Mr. Scarborough's Family.
The Land-Leaguers.
The Golden Lion of Granpere.
John Caldlgate.

By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.
Like Ships upon the Sea.
Anne Furness. I Mabel's Progress.

BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE.
Farnell's Folly.

BY IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.
Stories from Foreign Novelists.

BY MARK TWAiN.
Tom Sawyer. | A Tramp Abroad.

Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
Mark Twain, continued —
A Pleasure Trip on the Contlnen

of Europe.
The Stolen White Elephant.
Huckleberry Finn.
Life on the Mississippi.
The Prince and the Pauper.

BY C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
Mistress Judith.

BY SARAH TYTLER.
What She Came Through.
The Bride's Pass.
Saint Mungo's City.
Beauty and the Beast.
Lady Bell- | Noblesse Oblige-
Citoyenne Jacquiline.
Disappeared.

BY J. S. WINTER.
Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legend;

BY LADY WOOD.
Sab In a.

BY EDMUND YATES.
Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope.
Land at Last.

ANONYMOUS.
Paul Ferroll.
Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.

POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS.
Jeff Briggs's Love Story. By Bre

Harte.
The Twins of Table Mountain. E

Bret Harte.
A Day's Tour. By Percy Fitzgeral;
Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds. E

Julian Hawthorne.
A Romance of the Queen's Hound

By Charles James.
Kathleen Mavourneen. By Auth<

of " That Lass o' Lowrie's."
Lindsay's Luck. By the Author i

" That Lass o' Lowrie's."

Pretty Polly Pemberton. By tr

Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's,

Trooping with Crows. ByC. L. Pirk

The Professor's Wife. By Lkonaf

Graham.
A Double Bond. By Linda Villae
Esther's Glove. By R. E. Francillo
The Garden that Paid the Ren

By Tom Jerrold.
Curly. By John Coleman. Illu

trated by J. C. Dollman.
Beyond the Gates. By E. S. Phelp
Old Maid's Paradise. ByE. S. Phelp
Burglars In Paradise. ByE.S.PnELP
Jack the Fisherman. ByE.S.PHELP
Doom : An Atlantic Episode. I

Justin H. MacCarthy, M.p. '
Our Sensation Novel. Edited l

Justin H. MacCarthy, M.P
A Barren Title. By T. W. Speigh
Wife or No Wife? By T. W. Speigh
The Golden Hoop. ByT.W.SpEiGH
The Silverado Squatters. By I
Louis Stevenson. '

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J

Strobic Circles invented by Professor Silvanus P. Thompson, D.Sc, B.A.

OLD

H

giv
each circle will separately revolve on its own axis. 1 he miner
cogged wheel will be seen to revolve in an opposite direction.

•D this Diagram by t ^e right-hand bottom corner and
ive it a slight but raj d circular twisting motion, wheti

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