Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: The great ledger-book--which I now saw turned to anengine of our salvation. Chapter XIV]
IDONIA:
A ROMANCE OF OLD LONDON
BY
ARTHUR F. WALLIS
ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES E. BROCK
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1914
_Copyright, 1913_,
By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The irregular pile of buildings known as Petty Wales, of whichconsiderable mention is made in this book, formerly stood at thenortheast corner of Thames Street. The chronicler, Stow, writes of"some large buildings of stone, the ruins whereof do yet remain, butthe first builders and owners of them are worn out of memory. Some areof opinion ... that this great stone building was sometime the lodgingappointed for the princes of Wales when they repaired to this city, andthat therefore the street, in that part, is called Petty Wales;" and hefurther adds: "The merchants of Burdeaux were licensed to build at theVintry, strongly with stone, as may yet be seen, and seemeth old thoughoft repaired; much more cause have these buildings in Petty Wales ...to seem old, which, for many years, to wit, since the galleys lefttheir course of landing there, hath fallen to ruin." It appears tohave been let out for many uses, some disreputable; and a certainMother Mampudding (of whom one would like to know more) kept a part ofthe house for victualling.
CONTENTS
I. IN WHICH I LEARN FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT I HAVE AN UNCLE II. IN WHICH PTOLEMY PHILPOT COMMENCES HIS STUDY OF THE LATIN TONGUE III. HOW A BROTHER, HAVING OFFENDED, WAS FORGIVEN IV. IN WHICH I SAY FAREWELL THRICE V. PRINCIPALLY TELLS HOW SIR MATTHEW JUKE WAS CAST AWAY UPON THE HEBRIDES VI. HOW THE OLD SCHOLAR AND I CAME TO LONDON VII. IN WHICH I CONCEIVE A DISLIKE OF AN EARL'S SERVANT AND AN AFFECTION FOR A MAN OF LAW VIII. A CHAPTER OF CHEATS IX. TELLS HOW I CHANGED MY LODGING AND LOST MY MARE X. HOW I SAW AN ENEMY AT THE WINDOW XI. IS SUFFICIENT IN THAT IT TELLS OF IDONIA XII. HOW MR. JORDAN COULD NOT RUN COUNTER TO THE COURSE OF NATURE XIII. PETTY WALES XIV. HOW IDONIA TAUGHT ME AND A CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD HOW TO KEEP BOOKS XV. IN WHICH I BEGIN TO EARN MY LIVING XVI. THE SIEGE OF PETTY WALES XVII. HOW I FOUND AN OLD FRIEND IN A STRANGE PLACE, AND HOW PTOLEMY RENEWED HIS STUDY OF THE LATIN TONGUE XVIII. IN WHICH I RECEIVE A COMMISSION AND SUFFER A CHECK XIX. IN WHICH I COME TO GRIPS WITH MR. MALPAS XX. THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHINESE JAR XXI. THE "FAIR HAVEN" OF WAPPING XXII. HOW MY UNCLE BOTOLPH LOST HIS LUCK XXIII. THE VOYAGE OF THE _SARACEN'S HEAD_ XXIV. THE TEMPLE BENEATH THE WATERS XXV. IN WHICH THE SHIPS OF WAR GO BY AND THE TALE ENDS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE GREAT LEDGER-BOOK--WHICH I NOW SAW TURNED TO AN ENGINE OF OUR SALVATION . . . _Frontispiece_
THE ARGUMENT BETWEEN MR. SKEGS AND PTOLEMY
MR. JORDAN REGARDED ME VERY MOURNFULLY
"YOU CANNOT BE IGNORANT THAT THIS AFFAIR IS LIKE TO END BADLY FOR YOU, MR. DENIS"
IDONIA
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH I LEARN FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT I HAVE AN UNCLE
The first remembrance I hold of my father is of a dark-suited tall manof an unchanging gravity on all occasions. He had, moreover, a mannerof saying "Ay, ay," which I early came to regard as the prologue tosome definite prohibition; as when I asked him (I being then but ascrubbed boy) for his great sword, to give it to a crippled soldier atour gate, who had lost his proper weapon in the foreign wars--
"Ay, ay," said my father, nodding his grey head, "so he lost his goodsword, and you would make good the loss with mine. Ay, 'twas agenerous thought of yours, Denis, surely."
I was for reaching it down forthwith, where it hung by the wall in itsred velvet scabbard, delighted at the pleasure I was to do my bedesman.
"Go to your chamber, boy," said my father in a voice smaller thanordinary.
"But, sir, the sword!" I cried.
"Ay, the sword," he replied, nodding as before. "But, go warn SimonPowell that he look to his poultry-lofts. And learn wisdom, Denis, foryou have some need of it, in my judgment."
The same temperate behaviour he ever showed; granting little, and thatnever to prayers, but sometimes upon good reasoning. He seemed to haveput by anger as having no occasion for the use of it, anger beingneither buckler nor broadsword, he would say, but Tom Fool's motley.This calmness of his, I say, it was I first remember, and it was thistoo that put a distance between us; so that I grew from boyhood to nighmanhood, that is until my eighteenth year, without any clearunderstanding of what lay concealed behind his mask of quiet. That hehad a passion for books I soon discovered, and the discovery confirmedme in the foolish timidity with which I regarded him. For hourstogether would he sit in the little high room beyond the hall, hisbeard buried in his ruff, while the men awaited his orders to go aboutthe harvesting, and would read continuously in his great folios: theLives of Plutarch, or Plato, or the Stoick Emperor, or other suchworks, until the day was gone and all labour lost. I have known ouroverseer to swear horrid great oaths when he learned that Master Cleevehad received a new parcel of books by the carrier, crying out that noestate would sustain the burden of so much learning so ill applied.
Our house stood within a steep combe close under the Brendon hills, andnot far from the Channel, by which ships pass to Bristol, andoutward-bound to the open sea. Many a time have I stood on a rise ofground between the Abbey, whence it is said we take our name of Cleeve,and the hamlet on the cliff above the seashore, gazing out upon thebrave show of ships with all sails set, the mariners hauling at theropes or leaning over the sides of their vessels; and wondered whatrich cargo it was they carried from outlandish ports, until a kind ofpity grew in me for my father in his little room with his rumpled ruffand his Logick and Physick and Ethick, and his carrier's cart at thedoor with Ethick and Physick and Logick over again.
At such times Simon Powell was often my companion, a lad of a strangewild spirit, lately come out of Wales across the Channel, and one Iloved for the tales he had to tell of the admirable things thathappened long since in his country, and indeed, he said, lately too. Icannot call to mind the names of the host of princes that filled hishistories, save Arthur's only; but of their doings, and how they talkedfamiliarly with beasts and birds, and how they exchanged their propershapes at will, and how one of them bade his companions cut off hishead and bear it with them to the White Mount in London; which journeyof theirs continued during fourscore years; of all these marvels I havestill the memory, and of Simon Powell's manner of telling them, whichwas very earnest, making one earnest who listened to him.
For ordinary teaching, that is, in Latin and divinity and arithmetick,I was sent to one Mr. Jordan, who lived across the combe, in a sort ofhollow half way up the moor beyond, in a little house of but fourrooms, of which two were filled with books, and his bed stood in one ofthem. The other two rooms I believe he never entered, which were thekitchen and the bedchamber. For having dragged his bed, many yearsbefore, into the room where he kept the most of his books, he found itconvenient, as he said, to observe this order ever afterwards; andbeing an incredibly idle man, though a great and learned scholar, hewould lie in bed the best part of a summer's day and pluck out bookafter book from their shelves, reading them half aloud, and onlyinterrupting his lecture for extraordinary purposes. My father paidhim handsomely for my tuition, though I learned less from him than Imight have done from a far less learned man. He was very old, and thecommon talk was that h
e had been a clerk in the old Abbey before theKing's Commission closed it. It was therefore strange that he taughtme so little divinity as he did, unless it were that the reading ofmany pagan books had somewhat clouded his mind in this particular. ForI am persuaded that for once he spoke of the Christian faith he spoke ahundred times of Minerva and Apollo, and the whole rout of AtheisticalDeities which we rightly hold in abhorrence.
My chief occupation, when I was not at school with Mr. Jordan nor onthe hills with Simon, was to go about our estates, which, although theywere not very large, were fair, and on the whole well ordered. Oursteward, for all his distaste of my father's sedentary habit, had areverence for him, and said he was a good master, though he would neverbe a wealthy one.
"His worship's brother now," he once said, "who is, I think, one of thegreat merchants of London, would make this valley as rich andprosperous as any the Devon shipmasters have met with beyond theWestern Sea."
I asked him who was my uncle of whom he spoke, and of whom I heard forthe first time.
"'Tis Master Botolph Cleeve," he said. "But his worship does not seehim this many a year, nor offer him entertainment since they drew uponeach other in the great hall."
"Here, in this house!" I cried, for this was all news to me, andunsuspected.
"In this house it was, indeed, Master Denis," replied the steward,"while you were a poor babe not yet two year old. But there be somethings best forgotten," he added quickly, and began to walk towardswhere the men were felling an alder tree by the combe-brook.
"Nay, Peter Sprot," I cried out, detaining him, "tell me all now, forthings cannot be forgotten, save they have first been spoken of."
He laughed a little at this boyish argument, but would not consent atthat time. Indeed, it was near a year afterwards, and when I hadgained some authority about the estate, that he at length did as Idemanded.
It was a sweet spring morning (I remember) with a heaven full of bigwhite clouds come up from the westward over Dunkery on a high wind thatbent the saplings and set the branches in the great woods stirring. Wehad gone up the moor, behind Mr. Jordan's house, with the shepherd, torecover a strayed sheep, which, about an hour before noon, the shepherdchanced to espy a long way off, dead, and a mob of ravens over her,buffeted about by the gale. The shepherd immediately ran to the place,where he beat off the ravens and afterwards took up the carcase on hisshoulders and went down the combe, leaving us twain together.
"It is not often that he loses any beast," said the steward. "'Tis acareful man among the flocks, though among the wenches, not so."
I know not why, but this character of the shepherd put me again in mindof my uncle Botolph, upon whom I had not thought for a great while.
"Tell me, Peter Sprot," I said, "how it was my father and my uncle cameto fighting."
"Nay, they came not so far as to fight," cried the steward, with astart.
"But they drew upon each other," said I.
He sat silent for a little, tugging at his rough hair, as was his wontwhen he meditated deeply.
After awhile, "You never knew your lady mother," he said, in a deepvoice, "so that my tale must lack for that which should be chief of it.For to all who knew her, the things which befell seemed a part of herbeauty, or rather to issue from it naturally, though, indeed, they werevery terrible. Mr. Denis, it is the stream which runs by the oldcourse bursts the bridges in time of winter, and down the common waysthat trouble ever comes."
"But what trouble was in this," I asked, in the pause he made, "that itwere necessary I should have known my mother to comprehend it?"
"Nay, not the trouble, master," he answered, "for that was manifest toall. But 'twas her grace and beauty, and her pretty behaviour, thatnone who knew not Madam Rachel your mother, may conjure e'en the shadowof.
"You were a toward lad at all times," he went on, "and when yourbrother was born, though you were scarce turned two, you would besinging and talking from dawn to dark. Ah! sir, your father did notkeep his book-room then, but would be in the great chamber aloft, withyou and your lady mother and the nurse, laughing at your new-foundwords and ditties, and riding you and fondling you--God save us!--as aman who had never lived till then.
"'Twas when little Master Hugh came that all changed. For what must 'ado, but have down Mr. Botolph from London to stand sponsor to him, atthe christening. He came, a fine man, larger than his worship, andwith a manner of bending his brow, which methought betokened aswiftness of comprehension and an impatience of all he founddispleasing. Indeed, there was little he did not observe, noting itfor correction or betterment. Though a city man and a merchant, Mr.Botolph had but to cast an eye over this place, and 'Brother,' said he,'there be some things here ill done or but indifferent well'; andshowed him that the ricks were all drenched and moulded where theystood, and bade him build them higher up the slope. Master Cleeve tookhis advice in good part, for they were friends yet.
"But within a little while, I know not how, a shadow fell athwart all.In the farm, matters went amiss, and the weather which had formerlybeen fine became foul, with snow falling, though it was comeEastertide, and all the lambs sickened. The maids whispered of Mr.Botolph, who had never so much as set eyes on my lady till that time(she having kept her bed to within a week of the christening), that hehad spoken no word since the hour he saw her in, nor scarce oncestirred from his chamber. His worship, they said, took no heed of thismelancholy in his brother, or rather seemed not to do so, though heplayed no longer with you, and had small joy of the infant. But withMadam Rachel he sat long in chat, cheering her, and talking of whatshould be done in due season, and of how he would remove the staterooms to the upper floor (as was then generally being done elsewhere),and would build a noble staircase from the old hall; and of many othersuch matters as he had in mind.
"So for a week, and until the eve of the christening, nought could becalled strange, save that Mr. Botolph kept himself apart, and that theshadow on all men's minds lay cold. I doubt if any slept that night,for without the wind was high as now it is, and charged with snow. Wecould hear the beasts snorting in their stalls and the horseswhinnying. Little do I fear, Master Denis," said the old man, suddenlybreaking off, "but I tell you there was something abroad that night wasnot in nature.
"'Twas about midnight that we heard laughter; your lady mother laughingin her silver voice, which yet had a sort of mockery in it, and hisworship answering her now and then. After awhile comes he to my room,where I yet sleep, beyond the armoury.
"'Peter,' he says, 'hast seen my brother Botolph?'
"I told him no, but that I supposed he was in the guest-room down thelong corridor.
"'Madam Cleeve cannot sleep,' says he again, 'thinking that he is outin the storm, and would have us seek him.'
"I lit a candle at this, for we had spoken in the dark hitherto, andwhen it had burned up, I saw his worship dressed and with his boots on.His sword he held naked in his hand, and with his other hand he wouldpress upon his brow as one whose mind is dull. The gale nearly blewout the candle the while I dressed myself, and again we listened to thenoises without.
"I took a staff from behind the door.
"'Whither shall we go?' he asked me.
"'Surely to his room, first of all,' said I, 'for it is likely that mylady is deceived.'
"'I think so,' he said gravely, and we went upstairs.
"Without summoning him, Mr. Cleeve opened the doors of his brother'schamber, and at once started back.
"'He is not within,' he said, in a low voice, and neither of us spokenor even moved forward to search the room thoroughly. It was verymanifest to us that the shadow under which we had been moving for manydays was now to lift; and the certainty that it would lift upon blackterror held us in a sort of trance.
"I am not of a ready wit at most times, Mr. Denis, but somehow withoutthe use of wit, and almost upon instinct I said: 'Go you again to yourown chamber, master, and if all be well there, be pleased to meet mebelow in the great hall,' and
with that, hastening away, I left him.
"I ran at once to the stair, which has a window overlooking the basecourt; and as I ran methought the sound I had heard before of horseswhinnying, was strangely clear and loud, they being safe in stable longsince and the door shut. The candle which I still bore just then agust of wind extinguished, so that I could scarce find my way to thewindow, so black was all, and I so distraught. But once there, Ineeded not to look a second time, for down below in the snow of theyard stood a great coach with four sturdy hackneys that kicked andwhinny'd to be gone. 'Twas so dark I could distinguish nought else,yet I continued to stand and stare like a fool until on a sudden Iheard another sound of steel clashing, which sent my blood to my heart,and a prayer for God's pity to my lips.
"It was in the hall I found them, my master and Mr. Botolph; he cloakedas for a journey; and beyond, swooning by the fire which had not yetburned out, but threw a dull light along the floor, Madam Rachel, yourmother.
"Not many passes had they made, as I think, when I came between them.And indeed they did not resist me, for your father turned away at once,striding across the red floor to my lady, while Mr. Botolph, with justa sob of breath between his teeth, stole off, and as I suppose by thecoach, which we heard wheel about and clatter up the yard. I got me tomy cold bed then, Mr. Denis, leaving my master and mistress together.It was the chill she took that cruel night which became a feversuddenly, and of that she died, poor lady, and at the same time theinfant died too."
He twitched his rough sheepskin coat about him as he concluded histale, for the sky was gathering to a head of tempest, and after alittle while we went down the moor towards the combe where the greathouse lay in which I had been born, and where, as I knew, my father atthis moment was sitting solitary over some ancient folio, in theendless endeavour after that should stead him in his battle with thepast.