*CHAPTER XIX.*
For a long time nothing was found among the papers from which thesememoirs have been compiled relative to Mr. Inglesant's life subsequentto his return to England; but at last the following imperfect letter wasfound, which is here given as containing all the information on thesubject which at present is known to exist.
The date, with the first part of the letter, is torn off. The firstperfect line is given. The spelling has been modernized throughout.The superscription is as follows:--
Mr. Anthony Paschall, Physician, London,
from his friend, Mr. Valentine Lee, Chirurgeon, Of Reading.
From a certain tone in parts of the letter it would seem that the writerwas one of those who gave cause for the accusation of scepticism broughtin those days against the medical profession generally.
* * * * * that vine, laden with grapes worked in gold and preciousstones, after the manner of Phrygian work, which, according to Josephus,Tacitus, and other writers, adorned the Temple at Jerusalem, and wasseen of many when that Temple was destroyed; a manifest continuance ofthe old Eastern worship of Bacchus, so dear to the human fraility. Assays the poet Anacreon, "Make me, good Vulcan, a deep bowl and carve onit neither Charles's wain, nor the sad Orion, but carve me out a vinewith its swelling grapes, and Cupid, Bacchus, and Bathillus pressingthem together." For it is a gallant philosophy, and the deepest wisdom,which, under the shadow of talismans and austere emblems, wears thecolours of enjoyment and of life.
Methinks if the Puritans of the last age had known that the same word inLatin means both worship and the culture of polite life, they would nothave condemned both themselves and us to so many years of shadowy gloomand of a morose antipathy to all delight. And though they willperchance retort upon me that the same word in the Greek meaneth bothworship and bondage, yet I shall reply that it was a service of love andpleasure--a service in which all the beauties of earth were called uponto aid, and in which the Deity was best pleased by the happiness of Hiscreatures, whose every faculty of delight had been fully husbanded andtrained. In these last happy days, since his gracious Majesty's return,we have seen a restoration of a cheerful gaiety, and adorning of men'slives, when painting and poetry, and, beyond all, music, have smoothedthe rough ways and softened the hard manners of men.
I came to Oxford, travelling in the Flying Coach with a Quaker whoinveighed greatly against the iniquity of the age. At Oxford I saw morethan I have space to tell you of; amongst others, Francis Tatton, who,you will recollect, left his religion since the King's return, andsheltered himself amongst the Jesuits. He was but lately come toOxford, and lodged at Francis Alder's against the Fleur-de-lis. I dinedwith him there along with some others, and it being a Friday, they had agood fish dinner with white wine. Among the guests was one FatherLovel, a Jesuit. He has lived in Oxford many years to supply servicefor the Catholics, so bold and free are the Papists now.
I conversed with another of the guests, a physician, who after dinnertook me to his house in Bear Lane, and showed me his study, in apleasant room to the south, overlooking some of Christ Church gardens.Here he began to complain of the Royal Society, and the Virtuosi, and Isoon saw that he was a follower of Dr. Gideon Harvey and Mr. Stubbes."The country owes much," he said, "to such men as Burleigh, Walsingham,Jewel, Abbot, Usher, Casaubon; but if this new-fangled philosophy andmechanical education is to bear the bell, I foresee that we shall lookin vain in England for such men again. In these deep and subtleinquiries into natural philosophy and the intricate mechanisms by whichthis world is said to be governed, neither physic will be unconcernednor will religion remain unshaken amidst the writings of these Virtuosi.That art of reasoning by which the prudent are discriminated from fools,which methodizes and facilitates our discourse, which informs us of thevalidity of consequences and the probability of arguments--that artwhich gives life to solid eloquence, and which renders statesmen,divines, physicians, and lawyers accomplished--how is this cried downand vilified by the ignoramuses of these days!"
I pleased myself with inspecting this man's books, with which his studywas well stored, and with the view from his window; but I let his tonguerun on uncontradicted, seeing that he was of the old Protestant andscholastic learning, which is never open to let in new light. Heentertained me, besides, with a long discourse to prove that Geber thechemist was not an Indian King, and informed me with great glee that theRoyal Society, among other new-fangled propositions, had conceived theidea of working silk into hats, which project, though the hatterslaughed at it, yet to satisfy them trial was made, and for twentyshillings they had a hat made, but it proved so bad that any one mighthave bought a better one for eighteenpence.
He was entering upon a long argument against Descartes, to refute whomhe was obliged to contradict much that he had said before, but at thistime I excused myself and left him.
When I came out from this man's house the college bells were going forChapel, as they used to do in the old time; methought it was theprettiest music I had heard for many a day. I went to see an old man Iremembered in Jesus Lane. I found him in the same little house, dressedin his gown tied round the middle, the sleeves pinned behind, and hisdudgeon with a knife and bodkin; it was the fashion for grave people towear such gowns in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's days. He says heis 104. When I was a boy at Oxon I used to be always inquiring of himof the old time, the rood lofts, the ceremonies in the College Chapels;and his talk is still of Queen Bess her days, and of the old people whoremembered the host and the wafer bread and the roods in the Churches.In my time, at Oxford, crucifixes were common in the glass in the studywindows, and in the chamber windows pictures of saints. This was"before the wars." What a different world it was before the wars! Whatstrange old-world customs and thoughts and stories vanished likephantoms when the war trumpets sounded, and great houses and proudnames, and dominions and manors, and stately woods, crumbled into dust,and every man did as seemed good to himself, and thought as he liked.
On the Sunday I went to St. Mary's, and heard a preacher and herbalist,who spoke of the virtues of plants and of the Christian life in onebreath. He told us that Homer writ sublimely and called them [Greek:cheires theon], the hands of the Gods, and that we ought to reach tothem religiously with praise and thanksgiving. "God Almighty," he said,"hath furnished us with plants to cure us within a few miles of our ownabodes, and we know it not."
The next day I came to Worcester by the post, to the house of my oldfriend Nathaniel Tomkins, who is now one of the Prebends and Receptor.He lives in the close, or college green, as they call it here. He comesof a family of musicians. His grandfather was chanter of the choir ofGloucester; his father organist to this same Cathedral of Worcester, andone of his uncles organist of St. Paul's and gentleman of the ChapelRoyal, and another, of whom more anon, gentleman of the Privy Chamber toHis Majesty Charles the First, and well skilled in the practical part ofmusic, and was happily translated to the celestial choir of angelsbefore the troubles.
I was pleased to see the faithful city recovered from the ashes in whichshe sat when I was here last, and the daily service of song againrestored to the Cathedral Church, though the latter is much out ofrepair and dimmed as to its splendour. I like that religion the bestwhich gives us sweet anthems and solemn organ music and lively parts ofmelody.
I had not been here long when my friend the Receptor told me that if Ishould stay two or three days longer, I should hear as good a concert ofviolins as any in England, and also hear a gentleman lately come fromItaly, whose skill as a lutinist and player on the violin had precededhim. When I asked for the name of this gentleman, he told me it wasthat Mr. John Inglesant who was servant to the late King, and of whom somuch was spoken in the time of the Irish Rebellion. When I heard this Iresolved to stay, as you may suppose, considering that we have more thanonce spoken together of this person and desired to see him, especiallysince it had been reported
that he was returned to England.
I therefore willingly promised to remain, and spent my time inpractising on the violin, and in the city and cathedral. I walked uponthe river bank, and up and down the fine broad streets leading from thebridge to the cathedral. From the gates of the chancel down the stonesteps the strange light streamed on to the paved floor of the nave,chill and silent as the grave until the strains of the organs awoke.Mr. Tomkins told me that the loyal gentry of the surrounding countieshad, during the usurpation, made it a point of honour to purchase andtrade in Worcester, for the relief and encouragement of the citizens,who were reduced to so low an ebb by the battle and taking of the city.
Thursday was the day appointed for the music meeting, and on that day Iaccompanied Mr. Tomkins to the house of Mr. Barnabas Oley, another ofthe Prebends, who, you may remember, wrote a preface, a year or two ago,to Mr. Herbert's "Country Parson." He also lives in the College Green,and we found the company assembling in an oak parlour, which looked uponan orchard where the trees were in full blossom. There were presentseveral of the clergy, and two or three physicians and other gentlemen,who practised upon the violin.
As we entered the room, Mr. Oley was speaking of Mr. Inglesant, who wasexpected to come presently with the Dean. "I remember him well," he wassaying, "when I was in poverty and sequestration in the late troubles.He was supposed to be in all the King's secrets, and was constantlyemployed in private messages and errands. Some said that he was aconcealed Papist, but I have known him to attend the Church service verydevoutly. I recollect when I was in the garrison at Pontefract Castle,and used to preach there as long as it held out for His Majesty, thatthis Mr. Inglesant suddenly appeared amongst us, though the leaguer wasvery close, and I know he attended service there once or twice. I wasoften at that time in want of bread, during my hidings and wanderings,and obliged to change my habit, and did constantly appear in a cloak andgrey clothes. On one of these occasions, when I was in great distressand was diligently and particularly sought for by the rebels, who wouldwillingly have gratified those that would have discovered me, I fell inwith this Mr. Inglesant at an inn in Buckinghamshire. He was then incompany with one whom I knew to be a Popish priest, but they bothexerted themselves very kindly in my behalf, and conducted me to thehouse of a Catholic gentleman in those parts by whom I was entertainedseveral days. Before this, I now recollect, at the beginning of thewars, I met Mr. Inglesant at Oxford. I was in the shop of a booksellernamed Forrest, against All Soul's College. I remember that I took upPlato's select dialogues 'De rebus divinis,' in Greek and Latin, andexcepted against some things as superfluous and cabalistical, and thatMr. Inglesant, who was then a very young man, defended the author in away that showed his scholarship. It was summer weather and very warm,and the enemy's cannon were playing upon the city as we could hear as wetalked in the shop."
While Mr. Oley was thus recollecting his past troubles, Mr. Dean wasannounced, and entered the room accompanied by Mr. Inglesant and by aservant who carried their violins. You are, I know, acquainted with theDean, who is also Bishop of St. David's, and who, they say, will beBishop of Worcester also before long, so I need not describe him. Thefirst sight of Mr. Inglesant pleased me very much. He wore his own hairlong, after the fashion of the last age, but in other respects he wasdressed in the mode, in a French suit of black satin, with cravat andruffles of Mechlin lace. His expression was lofty and abstracted, hisfeatures pale and somewhat thin, and his carriage gave me the idea of aman who had seen the world, and in whom few things were capable ofexciting any extreme interest or attention. His eyes were light blue,of that peculiar shade which gives a dreamy and indifferent expressionto the face. His manner was courteous and polite, almost to excess, yethe seemed to me to be a man who was habitually superior to his company,and I felt in his presence almost as I should do in that of a prince.Something of this doubtless was due to the sense I had of the part hehad played in the great events of the late troubles, and of the nearnessof intercourse and of the confidence he had enjoyed with his lateMajesty of blessed memory. It was impossible not to look with interestupon a man who had been so familiar with the secret history of thosetimes, and who had been taken into the confidence both of Papists andChurchmen.
When he had been introduced to the company, Mr. Oley reminded him of theincidents he had been relating before his arrival. When he mentionedthe meeting in the inn in Buckinghamshire, Mr. Inglesant seemedaffected.
"I remember it well," he said. "I was with Father St. Clare, whosedeathbed I attended not two months after my return to England. Do youremember, Mr. Oley," he went on to say, "the sermons at St. Martin's inOxford, where Mr. Giles Widdowes preached? I remember seeing you there,sir, and indeed his high and loyal sermons were much frequented by theroyal party and soldiers of the garrison; and I have heard that he wasmost benevolent to many of the most needy in their distress. I rememberthat poor Whitford played the organs there often, before he was killedin the trenches."
"Ah," said Mr. Oley, "we have heard strange music in our day. I was inYork when it was besieged by three very notable and great armies--theScotch, the Northern under Lord Fairfax, and the Southern under the Earlof Manchester and Oliver. At that time the service at the Cathedralevery Sunday morning was attended by more than a thousand ladies,knights, and gentlemen, besides soldiers and citizens; when the boomingof cannon broke in upon the singing of the psalms, and more than once acannon bullet burst into the Minster amongst the people, like a furiousfiend or evil spirit, yet no one hurt."
After some talk of this nature we settled ourselves to our music and totune our instruments. Mr. Inglesant's violin was inscribed "JacobusStainer in Absam prope OEnipontem 1647;" OEnipons is the Latin name ofInspruck in Germany, the chief city of the Tyrol, where this makerlived. As soon as Mr. Inglesant drew his bow across the strings I wasastonished at the full and piercing tone, which seemed to me to exceedeven that of the Cremonas.
We played a concert or two, with a double bass part for the violone,which had a noble effect; and Mr. Inglesant being pressed to oblige thecompany, played a descant upon a ground bass in the Italian manner. Ishould fail were I to attempt to describe to you what I felt during theperformance of this piece. It seemed to me as though thoughts, which Ihad long sought and seemed ever and anon on the point of realizing, wereat last given me, as I listened to chords of plaintive sweetness brokennow and again by cruel and bitter discords--a theme into which werewrought street and tavern music and people's songs, which lively airsand catches, upon the mere pressure of the string, trembled intopathetic and melancholy cadences. In these dying falls and closes allthe several parts were gathered up and brought together, yet so thatwhat before was joy was now translated into sorrow, and the sorrowfultransfigured to peace, as indeed the many shifting scenes of life varyupon the stage of men's affairs.
The concert being over, Mr. Dean informed us that it was his intentionto attend the afternoon service in the Cathedral, and Mr. Inglesantaccompanying him, the physicians departed to visit their patients, andmy host and some of the clergy and myself went to the Cathedral also,entering rather late.
After the service, in which was sung an anthem by Dr. Nathaniel Giles,Mr. Dean retired to the vestry, and Mr. Inglesant coming down theChurch, I found myself close to him at the west door. We stoppedopposite to the monument of Bishop Gauden, who is depicted in his effigyholding a book, presumably the "_Icon Basilike_" in his hand. Iinquired of Mr. Inglesant what his opinions were concerning theauthorship of that work, and finding that he was disposed to converse,we went down to the river side, the evening being remarkably fine, and,crossing by the ferry, walked for some time in the chapter meadows uponthe farther bank. The evening sun was setting towards the range of theMalvern Hills, and the towers and spires of the city were shining in itsglow, and were reflected in the water at our feet.
I said to Mr. Inglesant that I was greatly interested in the events ofthe last age, in which he had been so trusted and prominent an actor,and
that I hoped to learn from him many interesting particulars, but heinformed me that he knew but little except what the world was alreadypossessed of. He said that he very deeply regretted that, during thelast two years of the life of the late King, he himself was a closeprisoner in the Tower; and was therefore prevented from assisting in anyway, or being useful to His Majesty. He said that there was somethingpeculiarly affecting in the position of the King in those days, as hewas isolated from his friends, and entirely dependant upon three or fourfaithful and subordinate servants. He said that, since his return toEngland, he had made it his business to seek out several of these, andhad received much interesting information from them, which, as he hopedit would soon be made public, he was not at present at liberty tocommunicate. Mr. Inglesant, however, told me one incident relating tothe last days of the King of so affecting a character that, as it is toolong to be repeated here, I shall hope to inform you of when we meettogether. He said, moreover, that the fatal mistake the King made wasconsenting to the death of Lord Strafford; that on many occasions he hadyielded when he should have been firm; but that most of his misfortunes,such as reverses and indecisions in the field, were caused bycircumstances entirely beyond his control. There is nothing new inthese opinions, but I give them just as Mr. Inglesant stated them, lestyou should think I had not taken advantage of the opportunity presentedto me. It appeared to me that he was not very willing to discourse uponthese bygone matters of State intrigue.
Seeing this I changed the topic, and said that as Mr. Inglesant had hadmuch experience in the working of the Romish system, I should be glad toknow his opinion of it, and whether he preferred it to that of theEnglish Church. Here I found I was on different ground. I saw at oncebeneath the veil of polite manner, which was this man's second nature,that his whole life and being was in this question.
"This is the supreme quarrel of all," he said. "This is not a disputebetween sects and kingdoms; it is a conflict within a man's ownnature--nay, between the noblest parts of man's nature arrayed againsteach other. On the one side obedience and faith, on the other, freedomand the reason. What can come of such a conflict as this but throes andagony? I was not brought up by the Papists in England, nor, indeed, didI receive my book learning from them. I was trained for a specialpurpose by one of the Jesuits, but the course he took with me wasdifferent from that which he would have taken with other pupils whom hedid not design for such work. I derived my training from varioussources, and especially, instead of Aristotle, and the school-men, I wasfed upon Plato. The difference is immense. I was trained to obedienceand devotion; but the reason in my mind for this conduct was thatobedience and devotion and gratitude were ideal virtues, not that theybenefited the order to which I belonged, nor the world in which I lived.This I take to be the difference between the Papists and myself. TheJesuits do not like Plato, as lately they do not like Lord Bacon.Aristotle, as interpreted by the school-men, is more to their mind.According to their reading of Aristotle, all his Ethics are subordinatedto an end, and in such a system they see a weapon which they can turn totheir own purpose of maintaining dogma, no matter at what sacrifice ofthe individual conscience or reason. This is what the Church of Romehas ever done. She has traded upon the highest instincts of humanity,upon its faith and love, its passionate remorse, its self-abnegation anddenial, its imagination and yearning after the unseen. It has based itssystem upon the profoundest truths, and upon this platform it has raiseda power which has, whether foreseen by its authors or not, played thepart of human tyranny, greed, and cruelty. To support this system ithas habitually set itself to suppress knowledge and freedom of thought,before thought had taught itself to grapple with religious subjects,because it foresaw that this would follow. It has, therefore, for thesake of preserving intact its dogma, risked the growth and welfare ofhumanity, and has, in the eyes of all except those who value this dogmaabove all other things, constituted itself the enemy of the human race.I have perhaps occupied a position which enables me to judge somewhatadvantageously between the Churches, and my earnest advice is this. Youwill do wrong--mankind will do wrong--if it allows to drop out ofexistence, merely because the position on which it stands seems to beillogical, an agency by which the devotional instincts of human natureare enabled to exist side by side with the rational. The EnglishChurch, as established by the law of England, offers the supernatural toall who choose to come. It is like the Divine Being Himself, whose sunshines alike on the evil and on the good. Upon the altars of the Churchthe divine presence hovers as surely, to those who believe it, as itdoes upon the splendid altars of Rome. Thanks to circumstances which thefounders of our Church did not contemplate, the way is open; it isbarred by no confession, no human priest. Shall we throw this aside?It has been won for us by the death and torture of men like ourselves inbodily frame, infinitely superior to some of us in self-denial andendurance. God knows--those who know my life know too well--that I amnot worthy to be named with such men; nevertheless, though we cannotendure as they did, at least do not let us needlessly throw away whatthey have won. It is not even a question of religious freedom only; itis a question of learning and culture in every form. I am not blind tothe peculiar dangers that beset the English Church. I fear that itsposition, standing, as it does, a mean between two extremes, willengender indifference and sloth; and that its freedom will prevent itspreserving a discipline and organizing power, without which anycommunity will suffer grievous damage; nevertheless, as a Church it isunique: if suffered to drop out of existence, nothing like it can evertake its place."
"The Church of England," I said, seeing that Mr. Inglesant paused, "isno doubt a compromise, and is powerless to exert its discipline, as theevents of the late troubles have shown. It speaks with bated assurance,while the Church of Rome never falters in its utterance, and I confessseems to me to have a logical position. If there be absolute truthrevealed, there must be an inspired exponent of it, else from age to ageit could not get itself revealed to mankind."
"This is the Papist argument," said Mr. Inglesant; "there is only oneanswer to it--Absolute truth is not revealed. There were certaindangers which Christianity could not, as it would seem, escape. As itbrought down the sublimest teaching of Platonism to the humblestunderstanding, so it was compelled, by this very action, to reducespiritual and abstract truth to hard and inadequate dogma. As itinculcated a sublime indifference to the things of this life, and asteadfast gaze upon the future; so, by this very means, it encouragedthe growth of a wild unreasoning superstition. It is easy to drawpictures of martyrs suffering the torture unmoved in the face of aglorious hereafter; but we must acknowledge, unless we choose to callthese men absolute fiends, that it was these selfsame ideas of thefuture, and its relation to this life, that actuated their tormentors.If these things are true,--if the future of mankind is parcelled outbetween happiness and eternal torture,--then, to ensure the safety ofmankind at large, the death and torment for a few moments ofcomparatively few need excite but little regret. From the instant thatthe founder of Christianity left the earth, perhaps even before, thisghastly spectre of superstition ranged itself side by side with theadvancing faith. It is confined to no Church or sect; it exists in all.Faith in the noble, the unseen, the unselfish, by its very natureencourages this fatal growth; and it is nourished even by those who havesufficient strength to live above it; because, forsooth, its removal maybe dangerous to the well-being of society at large, as though anythingcould be more fatal than falsehood against the Divine Truth."
"But if absolute truth is not revealed," I said, "how can we know thetruth at all?"
"We cannot say how we know it," replied Mr. Inglesant, "but this veryignorance proves that we can know. We are the creatures of thisignorance against which we rebel. From the earliest dawn of existencewe have known nothing. How then could we question for a moment? Whatthought should we have other than this ignorance which we had imbibedfrom our growth, but for the existence of some divine principle, 'Fonsveri lucidus' within us?
The Founder of Christianity said, 'The kingdomof God is within you.' We may not only know the truth, but we may liveeven in this life in the very household and court of God. We are thecreatures of birth, of ancestry, of circumstance; we are surrounded bylaw, physical and psychical, and the physical very often dominates andrules the soul. As the chemist, the navigator, the naturalist, attaintheir ends by means of law, which is beyond their power to alter, whichthey cannot change, but with which they can work in harmony, and by sodoing produce definite results, so may we. We find ourselves immersed inphysical and psychical laws, in accordance with which we act, or fromwhich we diverge. Whether we are free to act or not we can at leastfancy that we resolve. Let us cheat ourselves, if it be a cheat, withthis fancy, for we shall find that by so doing we actually attain theend we seek. Virtue, truth, love, are not mere names; they stand foractual qualities which are well known and recognized among men. Thesequalities are the elements of an ideal life, of that absolute andperfect life of which our highest culture can catch but a glimpse. AsMr. Hobbes has traced the individual man up to the perfect state, orCivitas, let us work still lower, and trace the individual man fromsmall origins to the position he at present fills. We shall find thathe has attained any position of vantage he may occupy by following thelaws which our instinct and conscience tell us are Divine. Terror andsuperstition are the invariable enemies of culture and progress. Theyare used as rods and bogies to frighten the ignorant and the base, butthey depress all mankind to the same level of abject slavery. The waysare dark and foul, and the grey years bring a mysterious future which wecannot see. We are like children, or men in a tennis court, and beforeour conquest is half won the dim twilight comes and stops the game;nevertheless, let us keep our places, and above all things hold fast bythe law of life we feel within. This was the method which Christfollowed, and He won the world by placing Himself in harmony with thatlaw of gradual development which the Divine Wisdom has planned. Let usfollow in His steps and we shall attain to the ideal life; and, withoutwaiting for our 'mortal passage,' tread the free and spacious streets ofthat Jerusalem which is above."
He spoke more to himself than to me. The sun, which was just settingbehind the distant hills, shone with dazzling splendour for a momentupon the towers and spires of the city across the placid water. Behindthis fair vision were dark rain clouds, before which gloomy backgroundit stood in fairy radiance and light. For a moment it seemed a gloriouscity, bathed in life and hope, full of happy people who thronged itsstreets and bridge, and the margin of its gentle stream. But it was"breve gaudium." Then the sunset faded, and the ethereal visionvanished, and the landscape lay dark and chill.
"The sun is set," Mr. Inglesant said cheerfully, "but it will riseagain. Let us go home."
I have writ much more largely in this letter than I intended, but I havebeen led onward by the interest which I deny not I feel in this man.When we meet I will tell you more.
Your ever true friend, VALENTINE LEE.
THE END.
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.
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