"LI B R.A HY OF THE U N I VERS ITY Of ILL1 NOIS THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SILAS BARNSTARKE. A STORY OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. By TALBOT G WYNNE, Author of The School for Fathers " and "The School for Dreamers." " I would not have your confcience for all your gains ; nor your accompt to make for all the world." — Baxter. LONDON : SMITH, ELDER, & CO. 65, CORNHILL. MDCCCLIII. [The Author of this work referees the right of author ijing a tranjlation of it.~] Bradbury & Evans, Printers, Whitefriars. &Z3 Gr My Dear Mother, I will not fall into common-places concerning obli- gations and cares which I feel can never be repaid j but, as you have ever encouraged and applauded my authorcraft, I will beg you to add to your never failing kindnefs by accepting the dedication of this work, as a fmall mark of the refpeft and gratitude of, My dear Mother, Your very affectionate Son, TALBOT G WYNNE. Belgravia, 1853, THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SILAS BARNSTARKE. THE night was dark — dark with the melan- choly, myfterious blacknefs of a winter mid- night, and fo ftill that diftant founds feemed near at hand. Snow fell lightly, quickly, and filently on hill and vale ; on plains, and on frozen rivers, ftreams, and pools. The earth was white with it ; and every hour added to the depth thereof ; as it fell, fell, fell, throughout the livelong night. There was a little village neftled beneath a bleak down, high and fmoothly rounded. Winds might rage around the top of that hill, and fweep howling paft it, but they reached not the village. 2 Silas Barnftarke. The dwellers in the cots which compofed it could hear the bluftering tempefts raging above them ; but thofe ftorms, broken by the flieltering downs, pafl*ed with diminished violence over the hamlet. On the night in queftion, 4th January, 16 10, the flaky fnow covered the cottage roofs ; tired labourers flept the fleep that refrefhes thofe who toil. The watch-dogs, unprovoked by paflers by, or by fufpicious founds, were mute and {lumbering ; there was nought to break the dead filence of the bitter winter's night. Without the village, about a mile beyond the church, flood a long, low houfe, with ftone roof, and roomy porch. This houfe, like the village cots, bore fnow upon its roof. The five or fix yew trees, dipt into fantaftic fliapes, which flood before it, were capped by the feathery flakes, whilft their retreating parts remained darkly green and fombre. The grafs around the houfe, and the paved path leading from the ftone fence to the porch were invifible beneath the deep white coating that covered them. From two long windows of the houfe lights flione out on the darknefs. The night wore on, ftill the lights burnt. Within the dwelling all watched throughout the long hours of night, except Silas Barnftarke, a boy Watching. 3 but three years old, who flept as children are wont to fleep, foftly, calmly, though all around are full of anxious care. In the room in the front of the houfe from the window of which a light was fhining, fat a tall, ftrong man with folded arms ; chin refting on his breaft ; clofed eyes, and agitated expreffion of face. Now and then he would open his eyes, raife his head and liften ; then with a figh fall again into the attitude he had juft quitted. All was filent about him. From time to time he arofe ; flowly paced the room ; opened the door ; liftened ; fliook his head ; refumed his walk ; looked from his window on the monotonous falling of the eddying fnow flakes, vifible in the light caft without from fire and candles ; then refeated himfelf with folded arms and drooping head before his fparkling wood fire. The hours pafled heavily and wearily. From watching alone and in filence, (lumber began to take poffeffion of the tired man. At firft: he dozed with many a ftart. The falling fnow feemed prefent before his clofed eyes. He could fee it fall, fall, eddy, eddy, flake crofling flake, quickly, lightly, without paufe or ceflation. He ceafed thinking. The fnow to him became a waking dream, a dreamy waking ; and B 2 4 Silas Barnjlarke. thus, by little and little, his doze turned into a dead and heavy fleep. Night wore on. It was three hours paft mid- night. The door of the room was flowly opened and an old woman peeped in. fC Mafter Barnftarke ! " fhe cried. The man moved in his fleep without waking. The old woman touched his fhoulder ; he ftarted up. cc Mafter Barnftarke," repeated the old woman : cc the babe is born ; " and fhe ftiook her head. Mafter Barnftarke looked into her meaning eyes. Without faying a word he left the room, and fought that in which the other light was burning. As he went he heard the wailing of his new- born fon. He ftept up to the bed where lay his wife: fhe feebly put forth her hand. He took it in his, which were cold and trembling. His words choked him : to fpeak was, to him, impoffible. The night was over, day was breaking, and the fnow ftill fell from the clouds ; the clouds that hung fo low, that were fo fad-looking, grey, dark, and heavy. The light ftill burned in the room where through- out the night Barnftarke had watched, or wearily Silas. 5 flept. The dull light of morning ftruggled with that of the candle, giving a melancholy air to the large low room, and feeming to add to the chilly cold of the now firelefs chamber. Barnftarke fat before his table, his arms folded, and refting on it, whilft his face was buried in his arms. He remained motionlefs for hours, with teeth tight fet, and brows knit clofely together j whilft a moan burft from him at rare intervals. In the room above, behind the clofed curtains of the ponderous, dark bed, lay the clay -cold body of his wife. A found rang through the ftill air and fmote his ear. It was the tolling of the church bell, announcing that a foul had pafled away. Barnftarke raifed his head, and fixed his eyes on the yew-trees before his houfe. They feemed to him as the feathers of fome gigantic fpe&ral hearfe. A fmall foft hand was placed on his thigh. He looked round and beheld Silas his fon : he took the little boy on his knees, kiffed him, and then putting him down walked to the window, biting his under lip to keep in his tears. Little Silas followed him, and pulling him by the doublet to gain his attention, told him that the 6 Silas BarnJIarke. women would not let him go to his mother to fay his prayers, as he was wont to do every morning ; that they faid fhe was very ill, but that there was a babe, that he fhould fee it when it was awake, and that the babe was his little brother. "What be little brothers ? " he added, in con- clufion. His father was leaning his head againft the cold window panes, and anfwered not. Silas looked up at his face, and felt frightened, he knew not why. He took hold of Barnftarke's hand, and trying to pull him towards the door to go out with him, to fee the fheep and cows, and tafte the frefh air, as the father and fon were in the habit of doing betimes in the morning. " It fnoweth," faid his father hoarfely. cc Snoweth ? " repeated the boy, looking up firft at the fky and then at his father. Seeing a large tear on his parent's cheek, he let go his hand and crept away in filence. Barnftarke's heart beat heavily; his blood ranflowly and fluggifhly through his veins, whilft his head and eyes burned, and he ached in every limb. He repeated over and over again to himfelf : " Dead ! dead ! " He could fcarcely believe his lofs ; then fuddenly A Friend. 7 the crufhing reality would force itfelf upon him, rudely fhaking him in foul and body. Whifpering fervants fought him, aroufing him with queftions concerning forrowful details that rent his heart and increafed his woe. About noon a friendly hand grafped his ; a friendly voice founded in his ear; the hand trembled, the voice fpoke in a whifper, but they roufed and foothed him. It was his wife's brother, Sir John Lovell, who ftood befide him. Sir John vainly tried to perfuade Barnftarke to leave his home and return with him. cc A man fliould bear his forrow, and fhould not fhrink from doing his duty, though it be full of grief and pain," was Barnftarke's anfwer to Sir John's inftances. However, he was glad to let little Silas depart with his uncle : the fight of the boy, and his inno- cently thoughtlefs queftions and remarks, were wounding and bitter to his foul. As for Silas, he rejoiced as he rode before Sir John, furrounded by his arm, and wrapped in the fame cloak with his uncle. He laughed as the fnow fell in their faces, and delighted in the fwift pace of the ftrong, fleet horfe that bore them. He liked to fee the black crows hopping about 8 Silas Barnftarke. on the white fnow, and flying away cawing, as the horfe feared them in his courfe. A five miles ride brought the uncle and nephew to Sir John's abode. This place was very different from little Silas' bleak home among the downs. Sir John's houfe flood on an immenfe eftate. It was built on a large flat, the houfe itfelf placed on the only eminence in that plain ; furrounded by a vaft garden, with a fountain in front of the dwelling, and many an alley of high and well dipt yew-tree hedges. There was a labyrinth too ; and beyond the garden were tall, wide-fpreading trees, fair to view, and full of finging birds. The houfe had been built in the reign of Henry VII., and a fine and noble fpecimen it was of the architecture of that day. On his arrival little Silas was turned into the great hall, where his two coufins Robert and Francis were at play. The high roof and rafters echoed with their ftiouts and laughter ; whilft the helmets, with opened vizors, that hung on the walls, feemed laughing too, with wide mouths, at the fports beneath them. Robert Lovell was about five years old, Francis a year and a half younger. A Poor Gentleman. 9 The hall contained three or four more boys, fomewhat older than the Lovells. All thefe little men were luftily kicking at a foot-ball, when Silas arrived ; who, to the beft of his childifti power, was foon engaged in the fame paftime, as regardlefs as his fturdy little playmates of falls, bumps, and fundry kicks on his fhins and ankles. Mafter Barnftarke had loft his wife, Sir John Lovell had loft his only fifter, on the bitter winter's night juft pafled. The families of Lovell and Barnftarke had been friends from generation to generation. No intermarriages had, however, taken place between them, until the day on which Anna Lovell, the fifter of Sir John, had been wed to Edmund Barnftarke, againft the will and without the con- fent of her father. Old Sir Walter Lovell's confent to his daughter's marriage had been refufed on account of Mafter Barnftarke's poverty : and in truth that poverty was great. His anceftors had poflefled vaft eftates, and goodly manfions ; but all that remained to Barn- ftarke of this landed wealth was the houfe with the ftone roof beneath the downs. This had been a farm in the profperous days of the family; it became the only home of Edmund, whofe father's extrava- io Silas Bamjlarke. gance and folly had brought him to fo lowly a condition. Barnftarke's father had been poflefTed by the ruinous idea of vying and competing at court with nobler and richer men than himfelf. The velvets, gold embroidery and jewels which compofed court coftume in Elizabeth's days and at her court, were far different in coft to the tweed and broad-cloth raiment of the prefent time. Mafter Barnftarke loved rich garments, and thefe, together with his equipages, horfes, retinue, and the banquets he gave, were thofe of a man of three times his pofleffions. He was laughed at by courtiers ; defpifed by country gentlemen ; pitied by none. Age brought no diminution to his folly, though ruin flopped his extravagance. Eftate after eftate had been loft to the family by fale and mortgage ; plate and jewels were likewife difpofed of. When his father died, Edmund Barn- ftarke retired to the old farm-houfe with one only wifh; that of becoming the hufband of Anna Lovell. Thefe two young people nourifhed a paflion for each other which nothing could control. It was in vain that Anna reprefented to her father that although Edmund was poor, her family was Unhappy Lovers. 1 1 rich ; that Edmund was of good defcent ; handfome, brave, kind, virtuous, and the only man fhe could ever love; that fhe and her adorer had grown up together from childhood ; and that if they did not marry they muft die. Sir Walter laughed at firft, but at length he grew ftern ; and fent Anna to an old aunt's, with a defire that fhe might be fafely guarded. Anna had no mother, and her aunt was fevere ; a maiden ; and without pity for contumacious lovers. Poor Anna! Far from her true-love, fhe faded and fickened from day to day. Her brother John had pity on her and on Edmund Barnftarke, whofe feverifh ftate of defpair drove him to roam from morn till night, regardlefs of driving blafts, pelting rain, or fcorching funs, over the bleak downs that furrounded his folitary home. Through the means of John Lovell, Anna was enabled, one dark night, to quit her aunt's abode. Oh, joy ! her brother received her in his arms. Befide him flood a being who breathed hard but fpoke not. Lovell placed his fitter's hand in his. The flight was fafely accomplifhed, and next day, before the altar, John Lovell gave his fitter to Barnftarke ; promifing to foften Sir Walter's mind, and obtain his pardon for this femi-clandeftine marriage. 1 2 Silas BarnJIarke. Sir Walter was not to be foftened ; and he died two years later, without forgiving his daughter : without leaving her a farthing at his death. Sir John Lovell continued his kindnefs to his fifter, and wilhed to fettle an annuity on her ; but fhe and her hufband refufed, faying that poverty had no horrors for them. They begged, however, that if their children fhould ever need, he would fuccour them. Six years they lived in love and happinefs within the old farm-houfe: fix happy years, made fwift and blithefome to both by the mutual kindnefs of each. What a change had come over Barnftarke's happy life : what a blight had unexpectedly, and fuddenly lighted on him ! All the long and wearifome day he fat pondering, defolate and alone ; throughout the cold and filent night he watched befide his wife's coffin. Sleep he could not, except by fnatches ; he would fee no one, not even Sir John Lovell, his faithful friend. As for his new born fon, the wailing and crying of the little babe was melancholy and overpowering to the father's foul. Poor Barnftarke wrung Lovell's hand, the only time he was admitted, and begged him to fee that the boy was provided with a fitting nurfe : fome The Mourning Husband. 13 kind and tender woman, and to have him removed to her dwelling. Lovell fulfilled his friend's wifh, and Barnftarke's houfe remained ftill as the grave. Worn out with watching and lack of food, for eat he could not, Barnftarke, ftrengthening his fpirit as beft he could, prepared to follow the body of his wife to her laft home. Cold and drearily dawned the day which was to feparate the two fond lovers till this globe fhould ceafe to roll. The fnow had in part thawed, fhowing the wet ground beneath it; whilft rain fell thick and chilling, freezing as it fell. Barnftarke heard the tolling bell, and he counted each ftroke mechanically, as he walked behind the coffin, with head ere6t, with a fixed look, and with a wild expreffion in his tearlefs, burning eyes. Anna Lovell was lowered into her peaceful grave : the mourners departed, but her hufiband remained. The village children, who had collected to fee the funeral, whifpered together, and ftared at Mafter Barnftarke ; then left the churchyard without jumping about over the graves, or noifily helping the fexton to Ihovel in the earth, as is commonly 14 Silas Barnjlarke. the wont of village youth on fuch occafions ; turning a fad folemnity into mirth and difport. Barnftarke remained, and faw all things properly done, and in order ; then difmifling the fexton, he ftood alone in the pelting rain and bitter cold befide his wife's lone refting place. He felt neither rain nor cold : his petrifying grief was his only fenfation. The whole day he remained bound, as it were, to the grave. Sir John Lovell had, at Barnftarke's defire, gone home, with a promife to return next morning. Towards clofe of day the rain ceafed ; the fun fhone forth with fickly rays, lighting up the rain- drops that fell from roofs and trees, and cafting faint long fhadows from furrounding obje&s on the thawing, blue-looking fnow. With a long drawn figh, Barnftarke aroufed himfelf from his ftate of torpid forrow ; and then he felt how piercing, cold, and damp, was the air : he felt how benumbed he himfelf was, how wet were his garments, beard, and hair. " I fhall foon lie befide thee, Anna/' he cried, once again fixing his fad looks on the grave ; and noting how the rain-drops fhone and trembled on the rank grafs around, as though they were tears fhed for him in his grief, or for the wife he had loft. Sleep. 1 5 He turned away from the mound, feeking his home with heavy fteps and aching limbs. Ah ! how defolate feemed that houfe : how full of gloom, how melancholy, how filent ! Barnftarke, worn out and faint, threw himfelf on his bed, drefled as he was ; wet through, and fhivering. There a deathlike fleep came over him ; his woes were forgotten for a while : no dream vifited him to bring back to his mind the chilling mifery he had undergone. Such happy oblivion could not endure for ever. Towards midnight, Barnftarke awoke, ftiff and fhivering with fever. He fat up on his bed. The moon was fhining on the floor through the cafe- ments of the long window. With an overpowering rufti, thought returned to him ; with thought came back all his woe, and all his grief. He felt ill — his heavy head ached — his hands and face burned — he fhivered each time he drew his breath ; and in all this he rejoiced : he hoped that his life was attacked, and that he fhould perifh ere long. Sir John Lovell was at the old farm- houfe betimes next day. He found his brother-in-law in a fmall room over the porch that had been Anna's own room in 1 6 Silas Barnftarke. her lifetime. On the night of her death, her huf- band had locked it, taken the key, and no one had been in it fince that time. There, with flufhed cheeks and gleaming eyes, fat Barnftarke. Everything in the room was as Anna left it when fhe fought her bed. Her fpinning wheel ftood before her chair ; on it was a little Bible from which fhe read each day, and from which fhe had read when her forrows were beginning. On the table were her gloves, retaining the very fhape of her hands ; befide them lay a little bow belonging to Silas, to which Barnftarke had feen her put a new ftring to pleafe her boy. Near thefe was a letter which fhe had begun, to a friend of her childhood, but which fhe had been unable to finifh. Without moving it from its place, Barnftarke had read it. Thefe were the laft words it contained : — " The weather is piercing cold without, but we are warm and happy in this our dwelling. Send Heaven thou mayeft one day wed fuch a man as my dear hufband, and find as great content as I have found ! Our happinefs feemeth not imperilled by ought but death ; and when that cometh, as come it furely muft . . . . " Orphans. 1 7 No more was written. The pen was thrown acrofs the letter, and there left. c< It is not good for thee to be here," cried Sir John Lovell as he looked around him ; his throat fwelled as he perceived the mementos of his dead fifter. Barnftarke, however, would not leave that room, till, burning and unable to fupport his weight, he was carried to his bed. Delirium foon feized him, during which he raved of the happy days of his love, nor feemed once to dream of his lofs and forrow. For many days, for many nights, he raved, muttered, and wearily tofled in his burning bed. A fortnight after the burial of his wife, Barn- ftarke, an unconfcious corpfe, was placed befide her. He had died without recovering the fenfes which pain and fever had feared away. Thus, within but a brief fpace of time, were Silas and his little brother left orphans. Edmund Barnftarke was but fix and twenty when he died, leaving his children on the wide world. Sir John Lovell, however, took care that his defolate little nephews fhould have a better home than the wide world. He kept Silas at his own houfe, making no difference between him and his fons. The little one, who had been chriftened Walter at his dying mother's defire, had been placed by c 1 8 Silas Barnjlarke. Sir John at the cottage of one Thomas Elderfield, whofe wife Joanna was to nurfe him and bring him up, till his infancy fhould be paffed. Joanna was a woman of the tender, companion- ate, kind nature, common to moft countrywomen ; and fhe at once loved and pitied little Walter with all her heart — in which he replaced the child that had been born to her, and loft to her, the very day before Walter firft drew breath. Her cottage was but half a mile from Sir John's abode ; wherefore Silas was often taken to fee his brother, and his brother brought to fee him ; but the heart of Silas did not warm towards the babe, and he took but fmall notice of it. Silas was not an ordinary child. He was taciturn, which is not the ufual chara&er of children; he joined his coufins in all their country fports, but he had no real love for boyifh plays, though he was ftout of limb, deep-chefted, and robuft. He had none of the airy gaiety of childhood : he was a grave and fedate boy, with a deep look in his dark gray eyes ; whilft his mouth fhut with a firmnefs which had more of the man than the child about it ; and his head had a fquarenefs that denoted great ftrength of body, as well as a moft determined difpofition. He was dull at learning, and the family chaplain and tutor looked upon him as a doomed dunce. < c The Poor Little Dolt:' 19 It was not till this chaplain thought it his painful duty to try and teach Silas fomething of figures, that his hard-brained pupil woke up from his lethargy. Then, to the good tutor's aftoniftiment, he found that there actually did exift a capacity for fomething in " the poor little dolt," as he had been wont to call Silas. He seemed born for arithmetic. In his walks, in his bed, at every fpare moment, Silas was making calculations : goff and bowls, fword-play, fingle-ftick, wreftling and riding, he now left entirely to his coufins. As for him, he ftrolled about the fields and lanes calculating, till, at ten years of age, he was the marvel of all who were aware of his fedate talent. He was rough in his manner, and all the efforts of his uncle and his wife, all the leffons of the tutor, and all the bantering of his coufins, failed to mix one drop of courtefy with his rudenefs. Walter remained under the tender care of Joanna Elderfield till he was three years of age. Her love for him had waxed greater from day to day. He was a meek and a winning little child ; and this, together with his orphan ftate and his gentle blood, rendered him a precious treafure to his nurfe. She loved her own children : ftalwart children and good were they ; but fhe entertained for Walter a fenti- ment of refpedt and tendernefs, fuperadded to her c2 20 Silas Barnftarke. affection for him : which, even at his then immature age, her fofterchild well repaid. Walter and his brother were as different as it was poffible for two brothers to be. Whereas Silas was rough in manner, and ftout in body, little Walter was courteous in his childifh ways, and delicately made. He was neither a handfome nor a particularly pretty boy ; but the expreffion of meeknefs and goodnefs fpread over his countenance, was far more charming than the greateft beauty would have been. It was with a heavy heart that Joanna Elderfield arrayed him in his beft fuit, on the fatal day on which Sir John Lovell had decreed that fhe fhould give up her charge, and that Walter fhould take up his abode in Sir John's dwelling. Joanna fmoothed down her fofter-fon's filky, light brown hair, kiffed his foft pink cheek, and promifed, with rifing tears but half concealed, that fhe would be fure not to feed the poultry in the evening till he came back ; then, giving him to the fervant who had been fent for him, fhe watched him as he ran acrofs the meadows, the white feather of his hat fluttering in the light breeze. Joanna's cottage feemed dark and dreary to her, as fhe re-entered it, fat down, and wept for the departure of her beloved charge. Child's Grief. 21 As for Walter, the day pafled over merrily ; he knew not that he had been doomed to leave his nurfe. When, however, twilight came on, and he afked to be taken Cf home ; " when he was told that he had come to live with his brother, then his little heart faddened. He begged of his uncle to fend him to his nurfe ; he begged of Lady Lovell not to let him remain where he was. Lady Lovell was a Frenchwoman of high family, whom Sir John had loved and won during his travels abroad ; and ftie, kind and gay, tried to amufe Walter, and to make him forget his nurfe : but Walter felt an awe creep over him in the large rooms of his uncle's houfe, as they grew darker and darker ; and the garden looked myfterious and gloomy as night came on, and the bats began to flit hither and thither through the cool evening air. Then, too, Walter thought of Joanna, of her cot, of the poultry, of his fofter-brothers and fifter, and of his pet kitten ; and thefe images combined, fank his child's foul in cold defpair. He fat filent awhile, and it was fuppofed that he was pacified ; but when lights were brought, it was perceived that the poor little fellow was fhruggling hard to keep in his tears; which thenburft forth, and fo prevailed, that Sir John, being a kind-hearted man, could not bear to fee them, and carried Walter back to his nurfe's cot. 22 Silas Barnjlarke. Great was the joy of all the Elderfields to have him once again among them : Sir John Lovell rejoiced to fee fuch happinefs, neither had he the heart again to difturb it ; Walter was allowed to remain at his nurfe's. As time went on, his educa- tion was confided to the vicar of the parifh ; a good man who had led a ftormy married life, but whofe handfome virago then lay filent and at reft beneath the fod. The vicar had always loved Walter ; the boy from year to year became more and more attached to that righteous man, and fpent his young life happily between the Vicarage, the Elder- fields' cot, where he lived, and his uncle's friendly home. For the latter, however, he felt but little inclination. His brother treated him roughly ; his coufins were too old for him, and too merrily boifterous in their kindnefs to win his tender fpirit. To his child's fancy, a myfterious gloom feemed ever to hang over the manfion, with its large rooms, its dark old carving, its oak wainfcotting, and its garden with the folid-looking, majeftic yew hedges that compofed the avenues. Of Lady Lovell, too, in fpite of her fprightly kindnefs to him, Walter felt a kind of dread. Her broken Englifh, her dark complexion, her large and fparkling black eyes, with their black and arched brows, fo flexible and clearly marked, were to him Child's Awe. 23 ftrange and unnatural ; and there was in her bed- room a large crucifix of black wood, with the figure carved in ivory, which ftruck a folemn awe to little Walter's foul. He could not look at it without a curdling of the flefti : and yet he loved to look upon it, connecting it in his mind with Lady Lovell, and thinking how dreadful it would be to pafs the night in the room alone with that huge black crofs ; or to leave Goody Elderfield and live with his aunt, who was, he had heard, a c< Roman Catholic : " words which conveyed to his mind an undefined, but terrifying idea of fomething myftic, preternatural, and awful. Walter loved his uncle, and felt happy beyond meafure, when, with a gentle preflure, Sir John laid his ftrong hand on his nephew's head, telling him to remember that he would always be both father and uncle to him ; and that in all troubles or forrows he muft ever fly to him for fuccour and for comfort. Still, a fhade of fadnefs came over his heart, he knew not why, at the idea of troubles and forrows, and flying to his uncle for fuccour and for comfort. The feeling was vifible in the expreflion of his meek eyes, as he would look up at Sir John, and putting his arm around his tall uncle's thigh, lean fondly againft him with a filent gratitude, whilft Sir John, fmiling at him, would fay: 24 Silas Barnftarke. " Thou art a loving child, Walter, but my mind mifgiveth me : I think that thou wilt ever be unfit to fight thy way through a rough and troublous world, full of cares and pitfalls ; unquiet, felf- loving, and fraught with vice and devilifh cunning." Walter gave no promife of great or aftonifhing intellect, of of any vaft decifion or ftrength of character ; but he was an incarnation of goodnefs, poffeffing a foul that fhrank naturally, as much as a fallen human foul can fhrink, from the leaft approach to, or appearance of evil. He loved to follow the Cf parfon " in his tours of charity, to ftand by him and liften to the advice, the comfortings, and confolations he gave to his poor flock ; or to ftroll with him through the green meads befide the glafly, winding river ; noting the reflection of clouds, trees, and reeds in the water : viewing how fleetly the flying fwallows Ikimmed along, dipping their wing, and leaving many circles to mark the fpot where the tip of their pinion ftruck the filvery ftream ; whilft he learnt, the while, how good men had lived and tranquilly died ; and how the wicked might flourish in life, but how their death-bed was a bed of agony ; their minds full of fear and torment, crying out for the fleeing moments to tarry ; whilft the moments hurried on, and the wicked died with frighted foul, The cc Par/on " and his Pupil. 25 and face of grief and horror ; ftartling the living, and leaving them a double weight of woe. From the lips of the righteous parfon, Walter from day to day learnt firefti leflbns of godlinefs and virtue : learnt them beneath the vault of heaven fo high and clear ; in the open fields, breathing the pure, fweet air of the country ; or fheltered from the mid-day fun in his glory, by the fpreading aged trees of the woods, where the hot rays, broken by the ftretching branches, reached the mofly ground, and tortuous, knotty roots of trees, in chequers with the fhade : woods where birds fang and chirped, and buzzing infeds flew to and fro in fummer idle- nefs ; where village founds and human voices were heard, pleafantly fubdued by diftance ; and where peaceful fouls and virtuous minds could find delight and quiet ; but from whence the finful man would have ruflied as from a death-like calm, a fcene of gloomy horror. The thoughts and feelings of Silas were far dif- ferent from thofe of his brother. " That boy," Sir John Lovell would fay, Cf is hard of heart and ftrong of head. He wanteth no foftering hand, neither doth he ftand in need of aid nor comfort. He will coldly fight his way through life ; and what he fetteth his mind upon, he will fee to the winning of." 26 Silas Barnjlarke. Silas had heard the hiftory of his loft eftates, and how his grandfather's extravagance had ruined the family. At his defire, Sir John had fhown him the various lands in that part of the country, which fhould have been his ; of which the farm-houfe where he was born alone remained. Silas loved to hover about his loft property, to walk from meadow and field, to wood and down ; to view the fplendid abode of his anceftors, and, in his mind, to call it his own. Cf Mine it ftiould be ; mine it /hall be ! " he faid, and firmly he fet his mouth, and bent his heavy brows. Silas was twelve years old when he made this refolve. He was not a boy to ponder over it, nor to build caftles in the air concerning it. No ; he told himfelf that to poffefs that eftate he muft buy it ; to buy it he muft needs have where- withal to do fo ; that he was not worth, at that moment, a fingle farthing ; that when he came of age he would have the farm, and the 100/. a year it brought forth ; therefore to redeem his loft houfes and lands he muft cc make money." Make money ! how was that to be done ? He muft find out. From that day all his difcourfe with Sir John A Refolve. 27 and with the chaplain was on the theme of money- making ; and all his queftions were inquiries as to how money was to be made. He thought over all he had gleaned on this fubjed. It was evident that by remaining at Sir John's, learning claffical lore with the tutor, and finally fettling down at his folitary farm on 100/. a year, and any little fum which, he hoped, his uncle might leave him, was not the way to repoflefs his eftates, and to become a man of weight in his county. That would never do. Having fully made up his mind as to his future career, he one day bluntly informed Sir John that it was his defire to become a merchant ; and that if his uncle would give him an education which would fit him for that line of life, he would repay him, "with interejl" as foon as ever it ftiould be in his power to do fo: for he felt certain that he fhould eventually have it in his power fo to repay him every farthing fpent on his early training. Sir John Lovell laughed heartily at this propo- fition of his nephew's ; at which burft of hilarity Silas was not over well pleafed. cc Thou art my poor fitter's boy," cried Sir John, wiping away the tears of laughter, and looking 28 Silas Barnftarke. grave, Cf and doft thou fuppofe that I am going to covenant for thine unearned money, Silas, or to take it when earned ? Would that be like either a good Chriftian or a gentleman ? It would be more like a Jew ufurer." cc Ufurer ? what is that ? " afked Silas quickly. cc Thou wilt know time enough. 'Tis a foul and dirty trade, taking advantage of a man's neceffity : a felling of the foul for the filthy lucre of gain. Thou fhalt be a merchant, Silas, let that fuffice thee ; but never again offer me money, or intereft on money. Thou art the fon of my only fitter, and of my deareft friend. Is not that enough ? and fhould I take money for helping the orphan ? Thou didft mean it in good part, my boy ; but fee that thou doeft fo no more ! " Silas felt pleafed to think that he was to have his defire, and that without repaying his uncle for any outlay he might incur in the fulfilling of it. Sir John Lovell took the neceffary fteps towards fetting his nephew forward on his way, ufing his intereft and influence to that effedt. Silas Barnftarke was to leave Sir John's after the midfummer holidays, and to wend his way to London. Arrived there, he was to be depofited at Chrift's Hofpital, where he would be arrayed in blue gown and yellow ftockings, and receive a good Leaving Home. 29 education ; thus laying the firft ftones of the grand edifice it was his intention to rear. Silas was not given to fenfibility ; neither did he feel any attachment to inanimate objects, feen and known from babyhood. He took leave of his uncle, aunt, and coufins, with his ufual fang-froid. Walter embraced him tenderly ; which embrace Silas received quite paflively and without emotion. As for the beautiful country, his walks, his haunts, his uncle's houfe, the houfe which had been his home from the moment he had become an orphan; he left * all thefe without one regret, Silas was to travel by the waggon, which took two days and two nights in the performance of the journey to London. He left his home whilfl all therein ftill flept, except his coufin Francis, who looked from his latticed window laughing, wifhing Silas a merry journey, and hoping that he would not be over intimate with the rod at fchool. Silas did not receive this fally in good part ; he merely uttered a fullen " farewell ; " and left his coufin to return to his bed, laughing aloud at Silas' gravity. The journey was performed fafely and without excitement. The fix ftrong horfes ftepped on 30 Silas Barnftarke. heavily and fturdily; the duft flew, the fun fhone hotly, extracting a fmell of greafe from the waggon wheels ; the waggoner's dog trotted beneath the vehicle, panting in the duft, his tongue hanging out. Silas walked the greater part of the day, and made calculations beneath the tilt of the waggon during the remainder of it. By night he flept therein befide the dog, who lay afleep, yet watchful in his repofe ; whilft the calm moon fhone on them from on high ; the cool night wind blew over the face of the earth; the waggoner foftly whittled, and the broad grinding wheels, and clanking drag-chain, lulled Silas to repofe with their monotonous, unceafing found. During the mid-day halt for repofe and dinner, on the fecond day's journey, a fedate looking man about forty, plainly dreffed in black, ftepped into the little inn where Silas was taking his repaft of boiled bacon and greens : good country food rendered doubly grateful by the ravenous appetite of young Barnftarke ; true Englifti bacon well accompanied by foaming ale, and by unfophifticated bread, guiltlefs of alum and other modern improve- ments. The man in black was respe&fully received by the landlord of the little inn, as well as by his wife and daughter : the fat, robuft daughter, overflowing with rude health, who waited on the guefts, keeping Fellow Travellers. 31 over-lively ones at arm's length, and all in their proper places. The landlord addrefled thefedate man as "Mafter Benfon," took his little valife, placed it carefully in the waggon, and informed him that Silas was his only fellow-traveller. Matter Benfon glanced at the hungry boy, fmiled, and faid that he had no doubt they fhould foon be friends, and not fall out by the way. Silas, as he cut from the loaf a third hunch of bread, looked up at Mafter Benfon, and felt that he fhould be pleafed with his fociety ; but being blunt and uncouth, he had no power of ex- prefling this fentiment in pleafing phrafe: he merely nodded his fquare head, and cut another thick llice of bacon. The time for ftarting having arrived, Benfon got into the waggon followed by Silas, whilft the land- lord ftood by, cap-in-hand. Off rolled the heavy waggon, the duft flying, and the dog trotting between the hind wheels. Silas being fleepy laid him down for a nap, making a fnug neft among the packages ; whilft Mafter Benfon, taking a little thick vellum-clad book from his pocket, proceeded to read. As he did fo, he from time to time eyed fleeping Silas. Aftonifhed was he at the boy's firm, fteady, 3 2 Silas Barnftarke. grave expreffion of countenance, fet off by his thick, curling, dark-brown hair. The fallow colour of Silas' fkin added to the gravity of his face, and made him look older than he really was. After an hour's fleep, Silas ftretched himfelf and awoke ; raifed himfelf on his elbow, and, in his turn, flared at Matter Benfon, who was intent on his vellum book. This perfon was of moderate ftature, inclining to ftoutnefs, with black hair prematurely grizzled ; large, dark eyes ; which, together with his features, wore a mild but fixed expreffion. Matter Benfon feeling that Silas' eyes were upon him, looked up, fmiled, and faid he hoped that Silas was all the better for his nap. Silas fitting up, rubbed his eyes and replied in the affirmative. After this beginning, converfation grew between the two. Silas being a cautious and taciturn lad, it was not until he had learnt from Matter Benfon that he was a city merchant dwelling in Mark Lane, that Silas, in his turn, informed his fellow-traveller that he was a nephew of Sir John LovelPs. Benfon next faid that he had been to his country- houfe to fee his wife and children, who were fpending the fummer there, far from hot, pent-up London ; A Diary. 33 and that he always, when alone, travelled by the waggon, as It was ufelefs wafte and folly to fpend more money than neceflary. This fentiment de- lighted Silas, who, aflenting to it, then recounted how he was deftined for commerce ; how he was bound for Chrift's Hofpital ; and how he intended to make his fortune, and to purchafe all the eftates loft to the family through his grandfather's extravagant vanity ; neither did he fpare the memory of that progenitor of his : waxing warm, he denounced him in good round terms. Mafter Benfon was both aftonilhed and delighted with Silas' views and fenfe ; whilft on his fide, young Barnftarke could not afk queftions enough of the merchant : a real merchant, a man who could anfwer all Silas" enquiries to the full, and fatisfy all his thirft for knowledge on the fubjecft of commerce. Never had Silas parted fo delightful a day. Towards dufk the merchant took a manufcript book and an ink-horn from his valife. He then entered the events of the day in his book, telling Silas that he had kept a diary fince he was fifteen ; that he put down therein not only the doings of each day, but the obfervations that ofFered them- felves to him on all fubjedts : obfervations which he might otherwife have forgotten, and which had often flood him in good ftead. He recommended the D 34 Silas Barnftarke. practice to Silas, promifing him a book for a diary, and advifing him to commence it from the day on which he had left his uncle's fioufe to begin the world for himfelf. Silas readily promifed this ; it was a plan quite in harmony with his ideas. When they lay down in the waggon for the night, Mafter Benfon was foon afleep ; but Silas, fixing his eyes on the moon, thought over all he had that day heard : thought over it again and again, fixing it in his memory ; nor did he doze off till he had come to the conclufion that Mafter Benfon might be a ufeful friend to him, and that it behoved him not to negleft opportunities, but to cultivate the man thrown in his way by a lucky chance, as he was pleafed to exprefs it. On arriving in London the following morning, Mafter Benfon and Silas alighted in a great paved yard, which was enclofed by the inn at which the waggon put up. The waggon rattled beneath a tall archway into the yard ; the waggoner Cf wo- oh-ed ! " to the ftout horfes ; the dog faluted his London acquaintances ; the oftlers ran out ; the travellers paid their fare ; and there ftood Silas befide his fchool cheft, about to begin life in the great metropolis ! Mafter Benfon was too much pleafed with Sila s Barnftarke to lofe fight of him. He invited him to A Mark Lane Merchant. 35 come home, breakfaft, and pafs the day with him ; when he would fhow him his offices and warehoufes, as well as thofe of fome of his friends. This was an offer which was thankfully accepted by Silas, who walked from ftreet to ftreet with Matter Benfon, feeming to breathe in wealth from the London atmofphere, as he ftepped along gazing on all around him. Silas on arriving at the merchant's, put on his beft fuit of Philamot cloth, and fancied that he looked quite mercantile ; as he purpofely omitted lace and ribands in his coftume, making himfelf as clean but as plain as poflible. Silas' nature was one of thofe that are not eafily aftoniftied ; however, when he beheld Matter Benfon's mercantile treafures, his chefts, his bales, the number of men he employed, and the figns of wealth everywhere vifible in his houfe, Silas did give way to a certain degree of aftonifhment, and of admiration likewife. At Sir John LovelPs he had been accuftomed to the wealth of a country gentleman in more than eafy circumftances ; to good cheer, and no lack of the comforts of life ; at the Mark Lane merchant's, things were far different. The ariftocratic air that pervaded his uncle's dwelling was not to be feen at Matter Benfon's ; but in his abode, riches, vaft riches, made themfelves to be felt, as it were, at every turn. D 2 36 Silas Barnjlarke. Silas bluntly told the merchant how aftoniftied he was at all his wealth ; and as bluntly afked him how much he had had to begin life with. cc A little learning, a ftout heart, and a willing mind/' replied Mafter Benfon ; who then proceeded to inform Silas that his mother and father were never known to him : that he never had any clue to who his parents might have been. He was found, a little infant, fnugly wrapped up in an old velvet cloak, one cold and blowing evening. The bundle of baby was placed under a hedge, which flieltered it from the blaft. A poor labourer fpied it out as he was getting over a ftyle on his way home. , He took the little child in his ftrong, ftiff arms, and carried it gently to his matter's, whofe wife took it in. Her hufband, a ftout yeoman, grinned on beholding the new arrival ; but he gave it fhelter and a home. Searching enquiries were made in order to difcover the infant's parents ; without effe6fc, however, for his origin was never known. The yeoman beftowed his own chriftian name of Anthony on the babe ; to which was added Benfon, the name of the man who found him. Anthony Benfon was brought up at a charity fchool in London ; where he learnt reading, writing, and arithmetic, according to the old fafhioned plan. He felt that he could not be a burthen to the Good Conduct. 37 generous yeoman who had foftered him, but that he had a vaft debt of gratitude to pay to him ; and no one but himfelf to look to in this world. On leaving fchool, he entered a merchant's houfe as errand boy, fweeper of offices, and general doer of anything that might fall out to be done. This employment was not very impofing, but he put his whole heart in it, did it well, and made duty his rule of life. Such condudt has never been known to lead to ruin. Anthony's mafter noticed and promoted him. From factotum he became a clerk's afliftant, then clerk ; and then his mafter's fecretary. He faved money ; put fome out to intereft ; made ventures of the reft ; doubled and tripled his fmall income ; married his mafter's daughter, and became his partner. Benfon's fortune was then as good as made. As foon as he was able, he bought a fmall eftate, which he prefented as a Chriftmas-box to the yeo- man to whom he owed fo much ; telling him at the fame time that, do what he would, he could never repay him for his kindnefs. Anthony Benfon recounted the above hiftory to Silas, merely omitting everything that redounded to his own credit; Silas liftening with the greateft intereft and attention. 3 8 Silas Barnftarke. " My poor old father-in-law died laft fummer," added the merchant in conclufion, iQ leaving me a good half of all he poflefled — may heaven be praifed ! — Bear in mind, young man, as you mean to follow my calling, that you may be content with honeft gettings. Little with honefty is better than great riches with fraud ; and a happy confcience worth all the pelf in the world. I am thankful to fay that I can lay my hand on my heart, and faithfully tell all men that I have never ftooped to difhoneft gain — never ! May you, my boy, on your death-bed, be able to fay the fame ; for there be many and great temptations in this our ftate of life. Do not forget that in the beginning more money is to be faved than made ; and that a youth who loveth pleafure and wantonnefs can fcarcely come to wealth and honour. Efchew all junkettings, and light throwing away of your gains. Be fober, plain-living, and temperate. See, moreover, that you do not get an over love of gold and money- making. That is a fnare many have fallen into : it hardeneth the heart ; ever maketh the kind affections to wither and die ; preventeth the doing of good offices, and doth cut a man off from all his fellows. Be open-handed with prudence, and according to your ability; but be open-handed. The very pooreft man may be open-handed according fc The Rifing Generation" 39 to what he hath ; but if the rich man be not fo in the way of almfgiving and kindnefs, woe betide his miferable foul ! M Silas liftened reverently to this little difcourfe of the merchant's : but there was a rifing in his heart against the cc open-handed' ' precept; although he entirely agreed with Benfon when he recommended faving and prudence. The merchant took Silas to the houfe of two of his rich friends, bringing them home to dine with him between twelve and one o'clock, after Silas had furveyed their warehoufes to his heart's content. At dinner young Barnftarke eat, drank, liftened to the converfation of his elders, and held his tongue ; fave when he now and then modeftly but roughly afked a queftion of them : as for remarks he made none. The youth of that period were reverent in their demeanour towards their feniors. Men were men ; boys were boys, and treated as fuch in that age. The monkey modes of the cc rifing generation" of our day were then unknown ; the modes of little premature men making themfelves fick over cigars, and apifh in man's attire ; giving out their opinions refolutely in piping treble ; whilft their fond parents look on with approving fmile at the cf faftnefs " of the fmooth-haired little rafcals. What fort of men 40 Silas Barnjlarke. will they become, and what will the generation after them be like ? — Cf £ Quien sabe" The Spaniard's queftion-anfwer is the only reply to be found to that query ! All that the merchants faid during dinner, fank deep into the mind of Silas ; and many a fhrewd remark of theirs he ftored up in his ftrong memory, for future ufe. Towards the clofe of day, Matter Benfon himfelf conducted Silas to Chrift's Hofpital, and there left him, with the gift of a couple of gold pieces, and an invitation to come and pafs the day in Mark Lane when ever he had leave out. Silas felt no finking of the heart when the merchant left him, and none of the chilling fenfa- tion which feizes moft boys on being turned into fchool for the firft time. He put up his gold pieces, adding them in his mind to the pocket- money he had brought from his uncle's. One gold piece from Sir John, one from Lady Lovell, a crown from each of his coufins, and a modeft filver penny with a hole in it from his little brother ; and which Walter had told him to wear round his neck that he might not forget the giver. Such was Silas' amount of cafh, and well fatisfied with it he felt. The dreams of the night are oftimes faint images of the doings of the day. Will Higgons, 41 Silas, amid the fnorings of his comrades, dreamt that he had a warehoufe full of little foundlings in fwaddling clothes. The foundlings were hung on hooks in rows all along the wall ; and he fold them 1 00/. a head to various merchants, who meant to bring them up as virtuous, aftive clerks. Silas had no perfonal vanity, confequently he felt no particular averfion for his yellow-ftockinged coftume ; neither did grief opprefs him when he beheld his beautiful, thick, brown locks fall beneath the fciflbrs that ruthleffly cropped him as clofe as a private of the line is cropped now-a-days. On the firfl: day of his arrival, he went through the initiatory fight with a boy of his own calibre ; one Will Higgons, fon of a dryfalter on a fmall fcale. Silas was ftout of heart and limb, fo was Higgons ; however, Silas won the fight, amidft univerfal admiration : Mafter Barnftarke going about for days afterwards with a black eye and a cut lip ; whilft Will Higgons' countenance prefented the appear- ance of a dejected and hideous mafk. Dating from this fight, Barnftarke and Higgons became allies. Higgons was a fair-lkinned boy, the faid fkin being well fprinkled with freckles ; his eyes were pale and clear, decked with white lafhes. His 42 Silas Barnjlarke. hair was red, of courfe ; his nofe being flightly turned up ; his mouth wide, with round corners, and garnifhed with a fet of ftrong, thick, white teeth : good, bacon-eating, longevity-looking teeth were they. Higgons was a fteady boy ; a young Prefbyterian, with a marked love of apples, and bread and cheefe ; a fturdy courage ; and an intenfe admiration for the two hour fermons he heard from a certain Jonas Sherwood during the holidays. He informed Silas that he meant to preach himfelf €C one of thefe days at which information Silas grunted, replying : — " Thou wilt never make a fortune that way — oaf I" " Enough is as good as a feaft," retorted Will. " Thy notion of enough would match a cruft of bread ; my c enough' would need a king's banquet, and not be as good as a feaft even then." " Law ! " cried Higgons ; and pulling fome apples from his pocket, he polifhed them on his fleeve, offering a couple to Silas, as he inferted his large teeth into one himfelf. Silas pocketed Will's gift, and fold the two apples before night for a farthing. That was a farthing cheaper than old Gaffer Green, the apple- man, would have fold them : but they coft Silas "Steady." 43 nothing ; and, in his fcheme, every farthing was precious. He never loft fight of this fcheme. He confidered that it was not neceflary to wait until he ftiould have reached man's eftate before he began the building up of his fortune — no ! Silas began it directly he arrived at fchool, and fteadily perfevered in the gathering together of fmall gains ; which fmall gains were to be the foundation of large ones, as the handful of fnow rolled up becomes the ball too heavy for the maker to move. Silas had not been long at fchool before he bore the nickname of f< fteady Silas/' The Chriftian name being by degrees omitted, he was at length known by the name of " Steady," and by none other. Idle boys and dunces were mines to Silas. When they would not, or could not, do their various lessons, "Steady" was always at hand, like fome hired fcribe, to do the tafk for them ; never, however, delivering over his work until he had been paid for it : and this payment was always to be in hard cajfh ; Silas would take nothing elfe. He had a wonderful and dangerous talent for imitating all forts of hand-writings, doing it quite well enough to deceive mafters ; and he could, moreover, write fo fmall, yet fo diftin&ly, that he would copy a leftbn on a bit of paper which would 44 Silas Barnftarke. fit into the palm of the hand. Thefe little papers faved his cuftomers much trouble, as far as memory was concerned. They ftuck the copied leffons on the hand, and repeated them with great volubility and precifion. Silas' copying of leffons, and doing of written tafks in feigned hands, became in time to be called cf fteadies" — from the enditer. All his play hours were taken up by thefe "Jieadies" which were paid for in copper coin ; fuch pence being carefully put away by Silas till they amounted to the value of a filver coin, for which he exchanged them ; the filver being, in its turn, kept until there was enough of it to be exchanged for gold. Silas heart expanded with quiet joy when he eyed and handled the firft gold piece of his own making. He felt that he was able to cc make tnoney" and he felt at the fame moment that his anceftral eftates could not fail of becoming his own. In fpite of his nickname of Cf Steady," Silas' reputation was very bad with the higher powers. No boy in Chrift's Hofpital was under punilhment more often than Barnftarke ; and no boy bore the infliition with fo much philofophy and careleffnefs as he did. And yet Barnftarke fuffered for offences which were none of his ! As far as his own duties Anthony. 45 went, he was immaculate ; but for a groat — that was his price — Silas would take on himfelf any offence which could be transferred without fear of being found out, and with it the confequent punifh- ment. His ally, Will Higgons, was among thofe who never bought cc Jleadies" or transferred a groat and a punifhment to Silas. The boy had a confcience, did his own duty, and bore his own caftigations. Barnftarke, on the invitation of Mafter Benfon, pa/Ted his firfl holidays at that merchant's. Silas did not pafs thefe holidays with his eyes fliut. He began to ufe them and his mind in gaining a knowledge, even then, of mercantile purfuits. Mafter Benfon, delighted at Silas' fteadinefs and fenfe, became, as it were, his mercantile tutor. He, day by day, taught him fomething of bufinefs; which leflbns Barnftarke took in with avidity, and retained firmly. He was, moreover, held up as a pattern to the merchant's fon Anthony, a thin flip of a boy, a month or two younger than Silas. This Anthony was his mother's joy, who had fhown her fond love for him by fpoiling and pampering him, till fhe injured him both in mind and body. Mafter Benfon, waking up from his bufinefs to a fenfe 46 Silas Barnftarke. of his fon's impertinence, peeviftinefs, and arro- gance, fent him to Weftminfter, in fpite of Mrs. Benfon's tears, entreaties, and reproaches. Whether it was natural difpofition, or the effe&s of fpoiling, I cannot fay, but Anthony, at Weft- minfher, gave unmiftakeable figns of turning out a rake and fpendthrift. There being no cc Steady" in the fchool, Anthony was in one continual fea of trouble ; whilft his mother's heart bled for him, and fhe looked on her hufband as a monfter of cruelty. Young Benfon having the greateft contempt and averfion for his father's calling — deftining himfelf, in his heart, for a future courtier — was not much edified by the pattern held up to him in the perfon of Silas ; neither did Miftrefs Benfon approve of the praifes given to Barnftarke by the merchant. She detefted the grave vifage and fteady modes of Silas, and prophefied that Mafter Benfon would fooner or later rue the day on which he had let him into his houfe. Silas knew well enough that he was an obje£t of hatred and contempt both to the mother and fon of his patron ; however, he held on his courfe fteadily, without appearing to obferve their feelings, faying to himfelf, that cf he had a fortune to make, and a good friend to further him in his fcheme, and that Refolution. 47 he was not to be turned from either by a foolifh woman and a fpoilt boy." Anthony having one unfortunate day colle&ed three or four of his fchoolfellows for the purpofe of venting his fpite againft Silas, they waylaid him, calling him that natural tyrant over the heart of mankind ; whereas felf had gained the victory. Silas, unfortunate Silas, tried to comfort his uneafy foul by repeating that Walter had himfelf faid that he had no defire for wealth, a country parfon's life being his aim and end ; and that, therefore there was no need to offer him that which he had no wifh to obtain, cc Befides," added Silas, cc I can always lend him a helping hand when my fortune is made ! " This was the iflue of Silas' firft fight with his confcience ! When Walter had attained the age of ten years, he had been removed from Joanna's cottage, amidft tears on both fides, and placed under the tuition of his good friend the village parfon ; who had obferved in Walter the feeds of fo gentle, pure, and virtuous a difpofition, that it became the joy of his declining years to fofter fo rare a goodnefs, and to ftrengthen and guide his pupil in every righteous way. Many converfations he had with Sir John Lovell on the fubjed of Walter. The parfon deemed it a fin to fend the boy to fchool, there to learn premature iniquity amidft rough young fcholars. Walter having fhown figns of a decided vocation for the life of a holy churchman, it was agreed between Sir John and the Vicar, that the latter 66 Silas Barnftarke. ftiould bring him up in a manner befitting the calling he inclined to ; being fully competent fo to do. Walter well repaid the affe&ion and care of the good paftor. They loved each other as father and fon ; and there was not a feeling of Walter's heart, or a thought of his mind, which was unknown to his tutor. Walter had traced out his line of life with quite as much precifion as Silas had traced out his ; but their ways lay far apart from each other, running in a direftly oppofite courfe. Silas' way led to riches, eafe, and influence. His mental profpeft was bounded by the accumulation and final enjoyment of them in old age : neither did it extend beyond this life ; his whole foul being wrapped up in fublunary matters, without a thought of anything beyond them. He had prudence, per- feverance, and firmnefs enough to fight his way to the end he defired to attain unto ; no one being better cut out to fucceed in it than Silas Barnftarke. Walter's way was to run through felf-denial, privation, and a rigidly holy life, without morofenefs or melancholy. His profped had no earthly boundary, but there was a bright and fhining country beyond this world, on which his eyes were bent from early youth. He felt and knew that his A Prudent Boy. 67 courfe would be difficult to tread, even for the befl: among men ; but it was the only courfe that he loved, therefore he was bent on following it with the fame prudence, perfeyerance, and firmnefs that accom- panied Silas on his Mammon-led way. Silas' education at Chrift's Hofpital being com- pleted, or at all events fufficient for his purpofe, he left it with fedate joy, to fill the fituation of clerk at Mafter Benfon's, until he fhould be of age. What with the enditing of Jleadies> the felling of clothes, and the faving of pocket-money, Silas was the happy poflefTor of fifteen pounds on leaving fchool. Silas had never felt the innocent fchool-boy greedinefs which tempted his comrades to exchange their money for the fweets of the pieman and apple- woman. cc It is folly," he argued, fC to eat coin in the fhape of pies and fruit, not for hunger's fake, but through wantonnefs. I will do no fuch foolifhnefs. A pie is foon devoured, but a penny faved is a penny gained." Thus Silas withftood pies, and faved his pence. Mafter Benfon had too high an efteem for Silas to allow him to lodge out ; he was therefore inftalled in a fnug little room of his own in the merchant's houfe, living with the family; much to Miftrefs Benfon's difpleafure. f2 68 Silas Barnftarke. Barnftarke put the whole of his fteady foul to his work ; refitting the pleafures and temptations of the other clerks, as firmly as he had formerly refifted the pies and apples at fchool. Whereas fome among them were fond of drefs, well inclined for tavern diflipations, and for gadding abroad, Silas went foberly clad in iron-grey cloth ; his diflipation confifting of a walk in the meads, near London, with Mafter Benfon, or a trip on the river and a vifit to the theatre, when he happened to be treated to them by the merchant. Youth he efpecially efchewed, feeking the com- pany of fedate men. He deemed young men to be the main fources of all evil ; beings who lead each other into folly and temptation, as well as into the extravagance confequent on the two firft ; whereas from grave men a young man draws good counfel, whilft he remains free from expenfive and ruinous plea- fures. Barnftarke was virtuous, chiefly becaufe vice is ever fcattering of gold, and deftru&ive of the application neceflary in order to get on in this world. Higher motive for virtue he had none. The natural fedatenefs of his character, too, might perhaps incline him towards virtue ; although it is poflible to be fedately vicious. A Recreant Dry-falter. 69 Altogether Silas was, externally, a moft exemplary- young man. An oath never garnifhed his difcourfe, and he was never known to have taken a cup too much, or to run up a bill anywhere. Ready money was his motto. The only young man with whom Barnftarke conforted was Will Higgons ; a perfonage as fteady as Silas himfelf, although in a different ftyle. Thefe two would walk abroad together ftaidly and demurely, uttering but few words ; models of Englifh fenfe and taciturnity. At rare intervals they might be feen at fome refpe&able grey-beard tavern, talking over grave matters, and refrefhing themfelves with cakes and ale ; at Will Higgons' expenfe of courfe. Will Higgons had a decided diftafte to the bufinefs of a dry-falter, but his father infifted on his following it ; and, to ufe his own words, Will ff made a confcience of obeying parents in all things," Anthony Benfon, the merchant's fon, on the contrary, did not "make a confcience " of obedience. He fteadfaftly refufed to follow his father's calling; refolutely {landing out, fupported by his mother, to be fent to college ff like a gentleman" 7° Silas Barnjiarke. Matter Benfon forrowfully took counfel with himfelf in this matter, and fo far honoured Barn- ftarke as to afk his opinion thereon. cf I fear/' quoth the good merchant ftiaking his head, \S, -J/ vf? ?F "if? yf: ?F The troubles in England were beginning : civil war was at hand. Thofe troubles and that war, together with their caufes, are too well known to render their hiftory neceflary in this tale. Silas Barnftarke heard men talk of turmoils and difturbance, but he took very little heed of the matter. So that commerce fhould continue in a flourilhing ftate, he cared very little whether monarchy or republic. King or Cromwell, parliament or army, fhould have the upper hand. Silas Barnftarke was to Silas Barnftarke the only being worthy of intereft and confideration : fo that his affairs profpered he did not care how the reft of the world wagged. He had, however, fallen into Puritanic views and modes ; not through any feelings either religious Puritanic Views. 103 or political, but becaufe that party were demure and fteady, and their drefs and ways tallied with his ideas. He was at this time thirty-five years of age, robuft, with fomewhat of a ftoop about his burly fhoulders ; well-fhaped legs and feet, and a ferious, rather faturnine expreffion of countenance. His brown hair was clipped fo clofe, that his fmall ears looked quite large ; whilft his dark beard was clofe-fhaven, leaving a black fhade over thofe parts of his face where it fliould have grown. He ftill dreffed in iron-gray, with plain collar and cuffs ; he wore, moreover, a high-crowned black hat, with black band and taflel, and a heavy iron mounted fword hanging at his fide in a calf- fkin belt. Miftrefs Benfon was no more. Anthony 's death had thrown her into an ill ftate of health, from which flhe had never recovered. Damaris had watched her as tenderly as fhe had done poor Anthony. The lofs of her mother left her penfive and melancholy, wrapped up in her father; who, leaving the management of his affairs to Barn- ftarke, his partner, gave himfelf up to the enjoyment of a calm old age, in the fociety of Damaris and of fome of the friends of his youth. His chief pleafure lay in doing good with his vaft 104 Silas Barnjiarke. fortune ; and in this his daughter feconded him. Her young days were over, fhe being then thirty years of age ; her health was delicate, her fpirit fad. She was the vidtim of her mother's foolifh weak- nefs for Anthony, and confequent negled of her ; the naturally gentle and meek heart which fhe poflefled having been crufhed and lowered from her childhood upwards. For the firft time in her life fhe felt at reft. Her only wifti was to be the folace of her father's laft days, and then to follow him to another world. Walter Barnftarke, in his country retreat, had heard, as well as others, rumours of troubles ; but his mind remained calm and unmoved. He had been fteadily purfuing his duties as parifh prieft. His old friend and tutor had refigned his living, which was in the gift of Sir John Lovell ; and that living was by Sir John given to Walter, to his unfpeakable happinefs. What greater delight could he have, than to find himfelf paftor of the much loved village in which he had dwelt from childhood ? The good old Vicar lived with him, and Walter felt true pleafure in folacing the age of the man who had fo kindly watched over his youth. It is not to be fuppofed that Walter's days A Gentle Par/on. 105 pafled by in one continued fete ; or that his flock were fo many paftoral perfections continually piping and dancing ; offering flowers and fruits, lambs and doves, to their Vicar ; their hearts overflowing with innocence and gratitude ; their manners tinged with ruftic coynefs, the amiable coynefs of Florian's fhepherds and fhepherdeffes. No ! things were not on that wife. Walter found wickednefs, ingratitude, rudenefs, and overreaching among fome of his flock ; though it muft be owned that thefe were the exceptions. Still, fome among them would repay his favours by grafping for more ; others, knowing the kind- nefs of his heart, would try and impofe upon him : but here his prudence would ftep in and defeat them. For fome among his parifhioners his tender pity was moved by their patiently-borne poverty, ficknefs, and misfortunes ; for fome, by their ignorant, dogged vice ; for others, by their per- fevering wickednefs. Walter did not ftart by fuppofing all men but himfelf to be in a ftate of damnation ; confequently towards the meaneft of his flock his manner was gentle and humble ; whilft, with the moft vicious, there was no fuperiority of confcious virtue about him. He never arrogantly taught, or fupercilioufly 106 Silas Barnftarke. dogmatifed : his teaching was meek ; but with his kind voice, and tender eyes, he feldom failed in turning men from their evil ways. At all hours of the night, as well as of the day, he was ready at the call of any who needed him. He was not one of thofe hard or carelefs men who, heedlefs of the feelings of weeping mourners, will keep a poor perfon's funeral waiting ; whilft the clerk wonders where cc our parfon he 9 " and the fexton fays : ' c dangd if I had'nt better give 9 un a call ! " Neither was he one of thofe who grumble at all duty that happens to interfere with their purfuits ; as if pleafure was to be their vocation, duty an unpleafant exception. His parifli was large, many houfes lying wide apart and fcattered ; but he knew every one among his parifhioners, their hiftories, their forrows, and their various charadters. He well knew who among them had to be aroufed from killing apathy ; whofe miftaken zeal and fervour was to be repreft ; the fins that were to be conquered, and the virtues that were to be encouraged. Great care too he gave to the children. He knew them all ; had chriftened moft of them ; and looked upon them as young lambs to be kept from ravening wolves. Charity. ioj Walter Barnftarke's wants were few. Strong, but homely clothing, wholefome food, and a few works by good old authors ; thefe were the only things on which money was fpent for his own ufe. All the reft went to the poor, or in comforts for his old tutor. The little bag containing the three hundred pounds which his brother Silas had coveted, but which Sir John Lovell gave to him, was kept as a precious ftore, to be had recourfe to as charity might demand. Walter had taken Joanna Elderfield, then a widow, to live at the vicarage ; where flie did her beft to make her beloved and venerated fofter-fon comfortable, and to repay his kindnefs by her care. Walter was ftrong and aftive, though rather flenderly built. His beauty lay in the angelic expreflion that always decked his countenance. His hair was light-brown and fomewhat long, according to the fafhion of the times ; whilft he wore his beard in a point, and his mouftaches fedately drooping : not turned up and ftarched, like thofe of the gay men and foldiers of the day. At the firft glance, it was impoffible not to fee that he was thoroughly a gentleman in appearance, mind, and manners ; his coarfe black garments ferving but to fet off his gentle blood inftead of 108 Silas Barnjtarke. hiding it. His whole bearing and demeanour were fo holy and reverend, that for any woman to have looked on him fave as on a man to be refpeded and honoured, as one fet apart for a pure and facred life, would have been a hideous defecration. War had no fooner burft out in England, than Sir John Lovell's eldeft fon Robert, leaving France, where much of his time was pafled, hied him home to take part in the fray, by joining the king's noble, gallant, brave, but undifciplined and helter-fkelter army. With fuch a field before him, Robert Lovell could not remain idle, with his fword in the fcabbard. He had inherited his mother's vivacious French blood. He pofleffed a boiling courage, a reftlefs dispofition, a great love of adventure, a heart full of loyalty to his king, as well as of a fovereign contempt for fc thofe canting curs " the Puritans. Robert Lovell was light, aftive, and wiry. He fhould have been extraordinarily handfome ; but the fmall-pox, which he took during boyhood, had blurred his features, and left marks not to be effaced, marring the beauty of his face ; his large and fparkling black eyes being all that were left to tell what he might have been. This misfortune did not damp Lovell's gay and happy fpirit. He wore his long fword with an air ; put on . his wide-brimmed hat gallantly ; trimmed Grand old Englifh Valour. 109 his " royale " to the proper length, breadth, and point ; flarched, turned up, and combed out the tips of his black mouftaches in French ftyle ; rumpled his boot-top with careful careleffnefs ; and carried himfelf with an upright, eafy grace, very pleafing to Lady Lo veil's maternal pride. It was in vain that Robert tried to perfuade Francis to beftir himfelf, and to take a part in the conteft between the King and Parliament. Francis vowed that nought on earth would induce him to take fo much trouble, whilft he had it in his power to live quietly at home. It was not that Francis lacked courage ; he had more than an ordinary fliare of good, old-fafhioned Englifh valour : that fturdy valour, unflinching and cool, that performed fuch mighty feats in the hard times of the Peninfular war, and in the gallant fea- fights of yore ; that dogged, unpretending valour that kept mighty hofts at bay, and tore the great Napoleon's fceptre from his hand ; that manly qua- lity which fome men, now-a-days, pretend to look down upon as barbarous and cc unintelleftual" It is an ill fign for a country when even one man can be found degenerate enough to look contemptuoufly on fo diftinguifhing a national virtue as that grand old Englifh valour. To return, — no Silas Barnftarke. Francis, though as brave as a lion, was fo fupinely lazy that the a<5tive life of a campaigner would have been, to him, one long torture. Up by day-break, long marches, hard fare, out in all weathers ; thefe things would not have tallied with the ideas of eafy Francis, whofe father had never had caufe to quarrel with him fave on the fubjed: of lying in bed in the morning : a foft indulgence congenial to the boy's foul. Francis was always too lazy to go to bed at night ; and too lazy to get out of it in the morning. He loved to ftroll about the country or lie on the grafs in the fine long fummer days ; to fit in the chimney corner looking at the embers, when the wind was roaring, and the rain or fnow was falling ; but for all a6tivity he had an inherent averfion ! Imagine what fort of a campaigner he would have made ! Francis faid, truly, that if the rebels fhould ever dare to attack the houfe, he would lofe the laft drop of his blood in the defence of it ; but as for running after them from the Land's-end to John-o-Groat's he would rather leave that amufement to his brother. Robert, burning to join his Majefty's forces, was bufy from morning till night in hurrying on his preparations. Sir John Lovell was at all the expenfe of the A Royaliji Levy. 1 1 1 expedition. His fon fucceeded in levying twenty ftrong young men from among the villagers ; and thefe, together with himfelf, two nephews of Sir Peter Markeham, three more Roman Catholic gentlemen, and five young fquires from neigh- bouring eftates, with their fervants, raifed the force to the number of forty men. Robert Lovell, with Sir Peter's nephews, who had ferved abroad, worked moft diligently in trying to give his little troop fome flight military knowledge, before they left their homes. His patience was rewarded, in fo far that they fired with fome little degree of precifion, and learnt to handle their fwords pretty vigoroufly. The reft would, he hoped, be foon picked up when once they joined King Charles's army. Lady Lovell beheld all thefe preparations with chivalrous delight ; though, at times, her heart fank when fhe looked at her fon and thought that he might perhaps fall in a6lion. She lamented over Francis's lack of fpirit, telling him that he was : ff Un gros Jean Boul petri de plomb !" Francis, at this compliment, would laugh, kifs his mother, and tell her that when Robert was with the army, fhe would be very glad to have