Mary Powell & Deborah's Diary Part 15

"I deny that, as well as your Dates," says Father. "We enjoyed a Commonwealth under the Protector, who, had he not a.s.sumed that high Office which gave him his Name, would have lacked Opportunity of showing that he was capable of filling the most exalted Station with Vigour and Ability. He secured a wise Peace, obtained the respectfull Concurrence of foreign Powers, filled our domestick Courts with upright Judges, and respected the Rights of Conscience."

"Why, suppose I admitted all this, which I am far from doing," says Uncle, "what was he but a King, except by just t.i.tle? What had become, meantime, of your Commonwealth?"

"Softly, _Kit_," returns Father. "The Commonwealth was progressing, meantime, like a little Rivulet that rises among the Hills, amid Weeds and Moss, and gradually works itself a widening Channel, filtering over Beds of Gravel, and obstructed here and there by Fragments of Rock, that sorely chafe and trouble it, at the very Time that, to the distant Observer, it looks most picturesque and beautiful."

"Well, I suppose I was never distant enough to see it in this picturesque Point of View," says Uncle. "Legitimate Monarchy was, to my Mind, the Rock over which the brawling River leaped awhile, and which, in the End, successfully opposed it; and as to your _Oliver_, he was a cunning Fellow, that diverted its Course to turn his own Mill."

"They that can see any Virtue or Comeliness in a _Charles Stuart_," says Father, "can hardly be expected to acknowledge the rugged Merits of a plain Republican."

"Plain was the very last Thing he was," says Uncle, "either in speaking or dealing. He was as cunning as a Fox, and as rough as a Bear."

"We can overlook the Roughness of a good Man," says Father; "and if a Temper subject to hasty Ebullitions is better than one which, by Blows and hard Usage, has been silenced into Sullenness, a Republic is better than an absolute Sovereignty."

"Aye; and if a Temper under the Control of Reason and Principle," rejoins Uncle, "is better than one unaccustomed to restrain its hasty Ebullitions, a limited Monarchy is better than a Republic."

"But ours is not limited enough," persists Father.

"Wait awhile," returns Uncle, "till, as you say, we have filtered over the Gravel a little longer, and then see how clear we shall run."

"I don't see much present Chance of it," says Father. "Such a King, and such a Court!"

"The King and Court will soon s.h.i.+ft Quarters, I understand," says Uncle; "for Fear of this coming Sickness. 'Twould be a rare Thing, indeed, for the King to take the Plague!"

"Why not the King, as well as any of his Commons?" says Father. "Tus.h.!.+

I am tired of the Account People make of him. 'Is _Philip_ dead?' 'No; but he is sick.' Pray, what is it to us, whether _Philip_ is sick or not?"

"Which of the _Phillipses_, my Dear?" asks Mother. "Did you say _Jack Phillips_ was sick?"

"No, dear _Betty_; only a King of _Macedon_, who lived a long Time ago."

"Doctor _Brice_ commends you much for your grounding the _Phillipses_ so excellently in the Cla.s.sicks," says Uncle.

"He should think whether his Praise is much worth having," says Father, rather haughtily. "The young Men were indebted to me for a competent Knowledge of the learned Tongues--no more."

"Nay, somewhat more," rejoined Uncle; "and the Praise of a worthy Man is surely always worth having."

"If he be our Superior in the Thing wherein he praises us," returned Father. "His Praise is then a Medal of Reward; but it should never be a current Coin, bandied from one to another. And the Inferior may never praise the Superior."

Uncle was silent a Moment, and then softly uttered, "My Soul, praise the Lord."

"There you have me," says Father, instantly softening. "Laud we the Name of the Lord, but let's not laud one another."

"Ah! I can't wait to argue the Point," says Uncle. "I must back to the _Temple_."

"Stay a Moment, _Kit_. Have you seen 'the Mysterie of Jesuitism?'"

"No; have _you_ seen the Proof that _London_, not _Rome_, is the City on seven Hills? _Ludgate Hill, Fishstreet Hill, Dowgate Hill, Garlick Hill, Saffron Hill, Holborn Hill_, and _Tower Hill_. Clear as Day!"

"Where's _Snow Hill_? Come, don't go yet. We will fight over some of our old Feuds. There will be a roast Pig on Table at one o'clock, and, I fancy, a Tansy-pudding."

"_I_ can't fancy Tansy-pudding," says Uncle, shuddering; "I cannot abide Tansies, even in Lent. Besides, I'm expecting a Reference."

"Oh! very well; then drop in again in the Evening, if you will; and very likely you will meet _Cyriack Skinner_. And you shall have cold Pig for Supper, not forgetting the Current-sauce, _Wilts.h.i.+re_ Cheese, Carraways, and some of your own Wine."

"Well, that sounds good. I don't mind if I do," says Uncle; "but don't expect me after nine."

"I'm in Bed by nine," says Father.

"Oh, oh!" says Uncle; and with a comical Look at us, he went off.

Uncle _Kit_ did not come last Night; I did not much expect he woulde; nor Mr. _Skinner_. Insteade, we had Dr. _Paget_, and one or two others, who talked dolefully alle the Evening of Signs of the Times, till they gave me the Horrors. One had seen a Ghost, or at least, seen a Crowd looking at a Ghost, or for a Ghost, in _Bishopgate_ Churchyard, that comes out and points. .h.i.ther and thither at future Graves. Another had seene an Apparition, or Meteor, somewhat of human or angelic Shape in the Air.

Father laught at the first, but did not so discredit _in toto_ the other; observing that _Theodore Beza_ believed at one Time in astrologick Signs; and thought that the Appearance of the notable Star in _Ca.s.siopeiea_ betokened the universal End. And as for Angels, he sayd they were, questionless, ministering Spiritts, not onlie sent forth to minister unto the Heirs of Salvation, but sometimes Instruments of G.o.d's Wrath, to execute Judgments upon unG.o.dly Men, and convince them of the ill Deeds which they have unG.o.dly committed; as during the Pestilence in _David's_ Time, when the King saw the Destroying Angel standing between Heaven and Earth, having a drawn Sword in his Hand, stretched over Jerusalem. Such Delegates we might, without Fanaticism, suppose to be the generall, though unseen. Instruments of public Chastis.e.m.e.nts; and, for our particular Comfort, we had equall Reason to repose on the a.s.surance, that even amid the Pestilence that walked in Darkness, and the Destruction that wasted by Noon-day, the Angels had charge over each particular Believer, to keep them in all their Ways. Adding, that, though he forbore, with _Calvin_, to p.r.o.nounce that each Man had his own Guardian Spiritt,--a Subject whereon Scripture was silent,--we had the Lord's own Word for it, that little Children were the particular Care of holy Angels.

And this, and othermuch to same Purport, had soe soothing and sedative an Effect, that we might have gone to Bed in peacefull Trust, onlie that Dr.

_Paget_ must needs bring up, after Supper, the correlative Theme of the great _Florentine_ Plague, and the poisoned Wells, which sett Father off upon the Acts of Mercy of Cardinal _Borromeo,--_not him called St.

_Charlest_ but the Cardinal-Archbishop,--and soe, to the Pestilence at _Geneva_, when even the Bars and Locks of Doors were poisoned by a Gang of Wretches, who thought to pillage the Dwellings of the Dead; till we all went to Bed, moped to Death.

Howbeit, I had been warmly asleep some Hours, (more by Token I had read the ninety-first Psalm before getting into Bed), when _Anne_, clinging to me, woke me up with a shrill Cry. I whispered fearfullie, "What is't?--a Thief under the Bed?"

"No, no," she replies. "Listen!"

Soe I did for a While; and was just going to say, "You were dreaming,"

when a hollow Voice in the Street, beneath our Window, distinctlie proclaimed,

"Yet forty Days, and _London_ shall be destroyed! I will overturn, overturn, overturn it! Oh! Woe, Woe, Woe!"

I sprang out of Bed, fell over my Shoes, got up again, and ran to the Window. There was Nothing to be seen but long, black Shadows in the Streets. The Moon was behind the House. After looking forthe awhile, with Teeth chattering, I was about to drop the Curtain, when, afar off, whether in or over some distant Quarter of the Town, I heard the same Voice, clearlie enow to recognise the Rhythm, though not the Words. I crept to Bed, chilled and awe-stricken; yet, after cowering awhile, and saying our Prayers, we both fell asleep.

The first Sounde this Morning was of Weeping and Wayling. Mother had beene scared by the Night-warning, and wearied Father to have us alle into the Countrie. He thought the Danger not yet imminent, the Expense considerable, and the Outcry that of some crazy Fanatick; ne'erthelesse, consented to employ _Ellwood_ to look us out some country Lodgings; having noe Mind to live upon my Uncle at _Ipswich_.

_Mary_, strange to say, had heard noe Noise; nor had the Maids; but Servants always sleep heavily.

Some of the Pig having beene sett aside for my Uncle, and Mother fancying it for her Breakfast, was much putt out, on going into the Larder, to find it gone. _Betty_, of course, sayd it was the Cat. Mother made Answer, she never knew a Cat partiall to cold Pig; and the Door having been latched, was suspicious of a Puss in Boots.

_Betty_ cries--"Plague take the Cat!"

Mother rejoyns--"If the Plague does take him, I shall certainly have him hanged."

"Then we shall be overrun with Rats," says _Betty_.

"I shall buy Ratsbane for them," says Mother; and soe into the Parlour, where Father, having hearde the whole Dialogue, had been greatlie amused.

At Twilight, she went to look at the Pantry Fastenings herselfe, but, suddenlie hearing a dolorous Voyce either within or immediately without, cry, "Oh! Woe, Woe!" she naturallie drew back. However, being a Woman of much Spiritt, she instantlie recovered herselfe, and went forward; but no one was in the Pantry. The Occurrence, therefore, made the more Impression; and she came up somewhat scared, and asked if we had heard it.

"My Dear," says Father, "you awoke me in the midst of a very interesting Colloquy between _Sir Thomas More_ and _Erasmus_. However, I think a Dog barked, or rather howled, just now. Are you sure the words were not 'Bow, wow, wow?'"