Confessions of an Etonian Part 7

I had, in due routine, become captain of the Oppidans--could, on an emergency, translate the dead languages--had worked myself into the eleven of cricket and of foot-ball, and now came forth from Keate's chamber, destined to learn that "the recollections of past happiness are the wrinkles of the soul."

BOOK THE SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

The youngest of a numerous family,--now that every profession is overstocked,--has no right to entertain considerable expectations.

Therefore, when my father endured the expenses of my education till my twenty-third year, he did far more than was inc.u.mbent on himself, and far more than I, in any way, deserved. It was, indeed, an expensive education, and the object to be gained by it, the Church.

Unfortunately, my inclination for this had never been ascertained, and still more unfortunately, from my youth, I had ever opinions and difficulties on religious points, thoroughly inconsistent with the established one. These I had ever kept within myself, and it has been my ruin. Had I earlier exposed them to my father, perhaps I might have prosperously pursued some other profession, and been, at this moment, something like an useful member of society.

Finally, in opposition to my own judgment and conviction, I bowed to that of others, and was ordained Deacon, in St. George's Chapel, Hanover Square. I now retreated to a parish in a remote county, which henceforth might be considered in the light of an honourable exile.

One Sunday, then, in the depth of a rainy winter, I set off on my horse, with my canonicals strapped before me in a valise, to commence my clerical duties. On entering my parish, for want of a more respectable asylum, I put up at a public-house, where I changed my dress, and came forth, for the first time, in the character of a Divine, walking towards my church, where I met with an unusually large congregation a.s.sembled to hear "the new parson."

Notwithstanding my lamentable deficiency of self-possession, I got through the service without any distressing error--I ought not to have read the Absolution, that being restricted to priests, nor should I have upset the cushion on which I was kneeling, for, not having sufficient confidence to replace it, I was forced to hang on by my elbows to the reading-desk for the remainder of the Litany. As for my sermon, I knew it by heart, and it went off very well. I think, at all times, if my sermon was a good one, I used to get along well enough, for, as I proceeded, I became interested in it. On the other hand, when it was considerably below the average, I became even more so, labouring to gain the conclusion, like a wounded partridge to reach the adjoining enclosure.

Having accomplished the service, I fondly concluded that my little devoir was finished for the day, and that I might now retire to collect my agitated nerves in quiet, but at the porch I was requested to visit an old woman who was lying in the poor-house, in the last stage of a dropsy. The only entrance to her chamber, or rather, her loft, was by an upright ladder fixed against the wall, the two upper steps of which were broken away. After a little manoeuvring in consequence of this difficulty, I entered the place in the att.i.tude of Nebuchadnezzar in the act of grazing, "meekly kneeling on my knees."

Like all other invalids in humble life, she was anxious that I should become impressed with the full extent of her suffering, and to this intent was irresistibly importunate in her entreaties that I would grasp her arm, and, to my horror, the next moment I saw the impression of my fingers deeply, and, to all appearance, permanently stamped upon her flesh! With this ordeal she appeared satisfied, and having read the prayers for the sick, I really suspect a little impressively, owing to my feelings as a novice, and left upon her pillow a few shillings, I do think and hope that her spirits were a little brighter than before--and there was need, for there were faint hopes of her descending that ladder more, save for her "long home."

I once more directed my steps to the public-house for my horse, whose head I now turned towards a farm-house where I had written to procure apartments. I had proceeded but a short distance, when he sunk up to the girths in a small bog, but contrived to scramble out so soon as I had dismounted. I knew beforehand, that my future residence was inaccessible for any description of carriage, but as I was little likely to be enc.u.mbered in this way, it was a matter of no consideration, but it certainly annoyed me to find that every now and then I was liable to get my sermon moistened in a quagmire.

In the midst, then, of these bogs was my solitary abode, which enjoyed the somewhat singular appellation of Pinslow. This, I fancy, from its situation among the surrounding mora.s.ses, to have been a corruption of "Peninsula," as it had but one line of access.

I was destined to be the first of my profession that ever resided in the parish. The salary being very minute, with no parsonage-house, hitherto each clergyman, save the one of the neighbouring parish, had conscientiously declined the appointment.

On reaching my house, I found it to be rurally situated in the centre of its straw-yard, but altogether well suited to my wants. There was a very good one-stalled stable, or loose box, and as, on rainy days, I would throw off my reading-coat, and rub down my horse for an hour, this was an object of some importance. I was equally fortunate with regard to my sitting-room, for, without rising, I could reach anything I wished for, from one end of it to the other. A second room was sufficiently s.p.a.cious to hold the bed.

Towards the close of the evening, laying aside etiquette, as Crusoe would in his solitary isle, I went out in order to visit a curate who had lately taken the parish bordering on my own, and who, like myself, had just entered on his noviciate. Here I found Seymour, a fellow Etonian and contemporary.

Though we had never before been intimate, how happy was I to meet with him. For years had I been in the habit of seeing him every day, when all was happiness, and now to be with him again, though my prospects were as gloomy as the barren moors around us! I felt how different was my regard for him to that for friends of later date. The truth is, we knew each other!

This, together with youthful and happy a.s.sociations, is the secret of all those lasting friendships commenced in boyhood. We feel, however we may try to conceal it, that our acquaintances in later life may be playing a part, or at all events, may be guided more or less by interested motives; while, on the other hand, should sad experience not have taught us the same policy, it will inevitably happen, that sooner or later we shall have to deplore our imprudence. It is not so much that we are betrayed as misconstrued; our opinions are misinterpreted from ignorance of our real dispositions. This, then, is why it has become so imperative on us to shroud ourselves in reserve; and, alas! the more so as our dispositions may be sanguine and ardent.

Hence, too, the Lord Chesterfield's scouted maxim, "Do not be, but seem," though his lordship is not to be reprobated so much as the world, that compelled him thus to advise his own son. But I fear I shall be found fault with by both parties, as I have learnt to be, but not to seem.

No wonder, then, that we hasten to renew our early friendships, and throw aside all this deplorable restraint.

"Your father is a horrid radical," I once heard a boy say to the Lord Chancellor's son.

"And your mother is his Majesty's mistress," was the retort, in even plainer language.

This is adopting the other extreme, but will here serve as a sample of that youthful openness, however ridiculous and disagreeable, which teaches us at once how to choose our friends and confidants, with little fear of being mistaken; and when we have arrived at manhood, whatever number of years may have separated us, we are still conscious of each other's nature, because we have learnt, in the meantime, that it never changes, in whatever degree it may have done so in appearance. Let any one, for a moment, bestow his attention upon some prominent person of the present day, whose character may contrast with what it was in boyhood, and has he confidence in him? in other words, is he imposed upon with the rest? He may cling to him for auld lang syne, but he will be far from being deceived, while the other is as conscious that he is not so.

For this reason, I have always thought well of those who have carried on their early intimacy to after-life. One of them must be creditable to our race, for I have noticed friendship between two indifferent characters ever to be brief.

Seymour, poor fellow, was just now under rather adverse circ.u.mstances, for he had arrived here but five days, and had been confined to his bed during the four last of them, having caught cold from wet feet, which I regretted the more, as he had but little chance, in such a country, of ever again enjoying the comfort of dry ones. When I arrived at his hovel he had just come down to his sitting-room, and I think I seldom recollect a more comfortless, or ludicrous scene either. Till this moment, I suppose, he who had roughed it as little as any one, was now looking pale, wretched, and emaciated, with his slender, gentlemanly figure crouched close upon the comfortless fire-place. Should he have the energy to stir for anything, his nicely arranged hair was instantly dimmed with the cobwebs and dust which it gathered as it swept across the low ceiling. On the dark and damp floor was scattered a number of splendidly bound books, with a Wilkinson's saddle. Along the wall was tidily arranged an extensive collection of Hoby's boots, and a hat-box, imprinted with "Lock, Saint James' Street," but which article was now converted into a temporary corn-bin, and was nearly full of black oats.

CHAPTER II.

It is but yesterday, when I felt that to be "a pot-hunter"[1] was the lowest step of degradation; and I was quite right, for then I lived at home; my father had an admirable kennel of pointers and spaniels, a couple of well-stocked manors, and a zealous keeper. But, since then, "a change came o'er the spirit of my dream," and my finances not so flourishing that I could keep up a shooting establishment on the footing which I have hitherto enjoyed. At present I am provided with sustenance at the cost of one shilling a meal; but should I procure a dinner elsewhere, which seldom happened, or my fishing-rod prove effective, which it never did, a proportionate deduction ensues in the cost of my repast.

Once or twice, as September approached, it crossed my mind that this kind of economy was not entirely to be overlooked. But, no, no! True, I had got under a cloud, and "my house-hold G.o.ds lie shivered around me;" but, to become a pot-hunter! I had not fallen, nor would I fall, so low as that. September has arrived, and I have!

To entertain a proper feeling on the subject, I am fully sensible that a gentleman should only destroy game, which, when killed, is thoroughly useless to him; and being thus principled, I am at a loss to account for the unwonted delight I experienced whenever my gun did its work on the victim, which in a few hours was to smoke on my solitary board.

Some one affirms it to be as probable for an empty sack to stand upright, as for a needy man to be honest. The simile is ingenious and plausible, but as uncharitable. The weakness I have just acknowledged is undoubtedly attributable to my circ.u.mstances, though I trust I am still beyond the reach of the graver imputation. But I should be ambitious of proving more than this--the utter extravagance of such a theory; for it is a cruel one, and has caused both mischief and misery. How many otherwise inoffensive persons have I known implicitly to adopt an opinion to the prejudice of their less fortunate acquaintance, merely from their deficiency of the world's wealth! But, not content with this, these persons, who are the very people to esteem poverty as the worst of ills, not satiated with his dest.i.tution, must do their utmost to sink him still lower by their treatment of him; little suspecting, too, I should hope, that the most probable means of enticing a man to become a villain, is to convince him that the world deems him to be such. I have known more than one victim to this treatment, for all are not gifted with independency of mind sufficient to defy it.

Owing to an insurmountable detestation of my profession, I spent but a few days of the week in my parish. It was not that I was careless, and indifferent for the welfare of my parishioners; for, in spite of myself, I could not but like them.

Beyond doubt, it is imperative on a clergyman ever to be in the heart of his parish, employed in bestowing, spiritually and corporally, such a.s.sistance as it may fall to his share to be able to bestow. As to relieving their distresses arising from poverty, my finances were much too limited to be of any avail. With regard to those who were suffering on a sick bed, with but slender hopes of recovery, my powers of consolation were even more meagre.

I have said that my opinions widely differed from those supposed to be entertained by a Protestant clergyman, and particularly so on the efficacy of a death-bed repentance. Could it then be expected that I was thus to smear myself over with hypocrisy, and to a poor broken-spirited fellow-creature, looking imploringly for religious aid and comfort, utter to his confiding ears such doctrines as, at that time, I unhappily and foolishly thought to be no more "than sounding bra.s.s, or a tinkling cymbal?"

This, then, was not to be thought of or endured; and, therefore, sooner than remain inactive among my people, I was ever, as much as possible, studiously at a distance. Still it could not but annoy me, should my presence have been required on any emergency, while absent; and this, thanks to my fortune, never occurred, though I had many narrow escapes of it.

At one time, having postponed the preparation of my sermon during the earlier part of the week, I arrived, in consequence, at my lodgings on Sat.u.r.day evening, in order to get it ready for the morrow. I had scarcely begun, when Maria, dispensing with her lowly knock for admission at the door, rushed in, and announced an event which had just occurred within a mile of the house.

A girl of eighteen, and her sister of eight years old, had been spending her birth-day at their grandfather's, and, after dark, had set out on their return to their father's house, mounted on an old horse, with the younger girl behind. In the bottom of a valley which divided the two houses, ran a little stream, but which now, from heavy rain, had increased to a rapid and deep, though still a narrow rivulet. In pa.s.sing through the ford, the younger girl, while raising her feet to avoid the water, fell from the saddle, pulling her elder sister with her. The youngest, much frightened, rushed through the water and gained the bank. The foot of the elder one became entangled in the stirrup, which unfortunately caused her head and shoulders to remain beneath the water. The horse was so quiet as to stand still in the stream, grazing on the bank, and was thus stationary long enough for the girl to become insensible, when he walked out, and her foot, on his moving, becoming once more free, her helpless little sister, by the light of the moon which was then shining, could just see the stream roll away the body of her sister towards a deep hole a little lower down, when she lost sight of her. This, then, was the cause of the present interruption.

On arriving at the spot, it was distressing to observe the insignificancy of the place, with regard to such a melancholy event.

The water where she had fallen, was not more than two feet in depth, and while searching for her body during the night, at any place I was able to jump across the stream. Yet, singular to state, we never found the body till the commencement of the fourth night from the accident.

The corpse of this poor girl was the first I had ever seen. Her eldest brother had discovered and placed it on the gra.s.s, and as he and her father gazed upon it, while the moon shone down upon the group standing motionless and silent in the gloomy ravine, never was I so conscious of the intensity of the misery which _can_ befal us--that indeed "the trail of the serpent was over us all."

The funeral of this girl was the first at which I had to officiate. It is singular that a funeral consequent on an unusual death should be attended by greater numbers than an ordinary one. On this occasion, I may safely say, that my little retired burial-ground, and its immediate vicinity, were occupied by thousands.

Though always in the habit of taking great exercise, I never experienced severer work than on the day which brought rest to others, not but that I might have avoided it. For five weeks successively I have served three churches each Sunday. On these days I had to walk forty miles, and ride another forty miles, and once or twice experienced heavy falls with my horse. This, then, I suppose, was steeple-hunting, properly so called--all this too was for love, at all events, not for money.

The latter, indeed, was very scarce in this part of England. My predecessor had served the parish fourteen years, for twelve pounds per annum. The present rector was in the annual receipt of forty-three pounds, out of which he had to pay me, but with the aid of a little simony, this was easily avoided, and as I took no fees, I can hardly call it a lucrative appointment, and certainly not a sinecure.

I am fully aware of the fallacy of judging on any subject, without examining both sides of the question, but the following case really seems to have only one:--

By great ingenuity, I should think, the sum of eight hundred and forty-five pounds is distilled from out the peaty soil of my humble parish, under the denomination of great and small t.i.the.

From the sound, one might be led to suppose that this sum was, in some slight way, connected with ecclesiastical purposes; and, by-the-bye, so it is exactly, for forty-three pounds go to the rector, and the remainder is distributed among three wealthy and n.o.ble families.

At first, too, one might expect that this sum would, at all events, afford to pay for a permanent and resident clergyman, with a roof over his head, "be it ever so humble;" but no, the parish is but the receptacle for the luckless, roaming deacon, and its poor parishioners are ever doomed to be as sheep without a shepherd, and to be fleeced accordingly.

Among these sabbatical circuits of mine, there was one which, though I shall be, more than usual, guilty of egotism, I do not wish to forget, it was so in keeping with the nature of the country--primitive and stern. It was the only time I was sensible of fatigue, though in the present instance I had not more than two churches to serve, nor was I under the necessity of walking more than half of the usual distance; but I was so ill with the influenza that I was doubtful of succeeding. Attempt it I would, for hitherto, though invariably hurried, I had never kept a congregation waiting for one moment.

Having got upon my horse, I rode him forty miles across the moors, to my own church first: so far from fatiguing me, I found that the freshness of the air had considerably added to my strength: still, the exertion of reading would have proved too much, had not the singers, perceiving my weakness, good-naturedly chaunted the prayers which occur between the lessons, just giving me breathing time, and sufficient strength to finish the service. The instant this was over, I walked away for the other church, determined, at all events, to persevere, for in a whimsical mood I had ever resolved to perform the Sunday's duty punctually, in spite of time, tide, or anything else. As I crossed each field, I was obliged to get on the top of every gate in order to rest myself, notwithstanding the exertion of it. On coming to the fatal little stream in the valley which divided the parishes, I became sensible that I had no strength to clear it, and that, should I attempt it, a total submersion must inevitably be the result. I had no time to hesitate, so at once walked through the ford, though at the time I was in a profuse and faint-like perspiration.