CHAPTER III
“I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel, and£o| cry like a woman .” —- As You Like It
SIR PHILIP GARDINER, by the kind offices of Governor Winthrop, had obtained lodgings at one Daniel Maud’s, the ‘first recorded schoolmaster’ in Boston. Thither he went, followed by hi s moody page, after receiving his cloak from our thankless heroine.
Not one word passed between him and his attendant; and after they) reached their apartment, the boy, instead of performing the customary servile duties of his station, threw himself on a cushion, and covering his face with his hands, he seemed lost in his own sorrowful meditations.
There had been a little fire kindled on the hearth, on account of the inclemency of the night. Sir Philip laid the fallen brands together, lighted the candles, arranged his writing materials on the table, and without permitting himself to be interrupted, or in the least affected by the sobs,/ that, at intervals, proceeded from his companion, he indited the following epistle.
“To my good and trusty Wilton,
“‘In the name of Heaven, what sends you to New-England?’ were your last words to me. I had not time to answer your question then, and perhaps, when 1 have finished, you will say I have not ability now; but who can explain the motives of his conduct? Who can always say, after an action is!3bn«F,TKaFEeTiad sufficient motive? Not one of us, Wilton, sons of whim and folly that we are! But my motives, such as they were, are at your service — so here you have them.
“I was tired of playing a losing game; even rats, you know, have an instinct by which they'flee a falling house. I had some compunctious visitings at leaving my king when he hath such cruel need of loyal servants — jeer not, Wilton, — I had my scruples. It was a saying of Father Baretti, that whemTucifer fell, conscience, that once guided, remained to torment him. My assertion thus modestly illustrated, have I not a right to say, I had scruples? I was wearied with a series of ill-luck, and as other men are as good to fill a ditch, I have retired till dame fortune shall see fit to give her wheel a turn in my royal master’s favour. But why come hither? — to submit to ‘King Winthrop and all his inventions — his Amsterdam fan- tastical ordinances — his preachings, marryings, and other abusive cere- monies?’ — Patience, my good gossip, and I will tell thee.
“You have heard of my old friend and patron, Thomas Morton 2 of Furnival’s Inn; and you know he was once master of a fine domain here, at Mount Wollaston, for which his revels obtained the name of the ‘Merrv MoimJ.J The ruling saintships of this “New-English Canaan” were so scandalized, because forsooth, he avowed and followed the free tastes of a gentleman, that they ejected him from his own territory.
“He once well-nigh obtained redress from the king, and a decree in his favour passed the privy-seal, but the influence of his enemies finally prevailed. He has had the consolation of sundry retaliations on his oppo- nents; now, as he said, ‘uncasing Medusa’s head, and raising the old ghost of Sir F. George’s patent,’ 4 and then thrusting home the keen point of his satiric verse. However, though this was a bitter draught to his adversaries, it was but lean satisfaction to him; and having become old, and poor, and lost his spirit, he came hither once more, last winter, in the hope of obtaining an act of oblivion of all past grievances, and a restitution of his rights.
“Immediately after his arrival, he wrote to me that 1 Joshua had promised to restore to him, and to his tribe, their lot in the inheritance of the faithful — that he was again to be king of the revels on the ‘merry- mount, ’ where he invited me to live with him, his prime minister, and heir apparent.’ The letter came to hand at a moment when I was wearied with a bootless service, and willing to grasp any novelty; and accordingly I closed with the offer, but lo! on my arrival, I found that Morton, instead of being reinstated at Mount Wollaston, is in jail, and in honest opinion, is reputed crazy — as, doubtless, he is! Laugh at me, Wilton, even as the foul fiends laugh when their master is entangled in his own meshes — I defy your laugh; for though a dupe, I am not a victim; and Caesar and his fortunes shall yet survive the storm.
“I have done with Morton; no one here knows or suspects our former alliance. My name is not like to reach his ear, and if it should, who would take the word of a ruined man, against an approved candidate for membership with the congregation, for such even, am 1 — a ‘brother,’ in this community of saints.
“Luckily, Morton, with that cunning incident to madness, cautioned) me against appearing in this camp without the uniform of the church- militant, alleging, that we must play the part of pilgrims, till we were q uite independent of the favour of the saints. Accordingly, I assumed the puritan habit, bearing, and language that so much amused you at our last meeting. But why, you will ask, prolong this dull masquerade? For an object, my good Wilton, that would make you or me, saint or devil, or any thing else whereby we might secure it — the most provoking, bewitching, and soul- moving creature that ever appeared in the form of woman, is my tempter. She is the daughter and sole heir of Sir Walter Leslie, who you may remember was noted for his gallantry in that mad expedition of Buck- ingham to the Isle of Rhee. 5
“Is it not a sham e that youth and beauty should be thrown away upon; these drivelling, canting, preaching, praying, liberty-loving, lecture-going, pilgrims! Would it not be a worthy act to tear this scion of a loyal stock from these crabs of the wilderness, and set her in our garden of England? And would it not be a knightly feat to win the prize against a young gallant, a pink of courtesy, while the unfledged boy is dreaming of love’s elysium?
“Marvel as you please, Wilton, goodly prospects are dawning on me — fortune smiles, as if inclined to pay the good turn she has so long owed me. I am in prime credit with guardians and governors — the beau- ideal of duenna-aunts and serving maids. Time and chance favour me — but — but there is always some devilish cross upon my line of luck.
“Rosa came with me to this barbarous land — a fit Houri, you will say, for a Mahometan saint, but an odd appendage to a canting round-
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head — even so she is, but what was to be done! She had no shelter but my protection. I had still some lingering of love for her, and pity (don’t scoff. ); and besides, Morton’s representations had led me to believe that she would not be an inconvenient member of the household at Merry Mount, so I permitted her to disguise herself, and come over the rough seas with me. she is a fantastical wayward child, and a true woman withal. She loves me j to distraction, and would sacrifice any to me but the ruling passion of her sex, her vanity; but in spite of my entreaties and commands, she persists in wearing a velvet Spanish hat, with a buckle and feathers, most audaciouslv cocked on one side; and indeed her whole apparel would better suit a Queen’s page, than the humble serving-boy of a self-denying puritan.
“Luckily she is sad and dumpish, and does not incline to go abroad, but whenever she does appear I perceive, she is eyed with curiosity and suspicion; and suspicion once thoroughly awakened, discovery is inevi- table, for you know her face gives the lie to her doublet and hose.
Diana’s lip is not more smooth and rubious.
Her small pipe is as the maiden’s organ, sound and shrill; And all is semblative a woman’s part.
“If we should be detected, I know not what punishment may be inflicted by the Draco-laws of these saints — a public whipping of poor Rosa — cropping of my ears — imprisonment — perhaps death, if perad- venture some authority therefore should be found in the statutes of the land — that is to say, in the old Jewish records.
“But why expose myself to such peril? Ah! Wilton, you would not ask why if you could see my enchantress — but without seeing her, no man knows better than you, that
“Love is a sweet intice,
’Gainst whom the wisest wits as yet Have never found devise.”
“If 1 could but persuade Rosa to be prudent till we may both cast off these odious disguises; but she disdains all caution, and fears nothing but being supplanted in my favour.
“She is still in the fever of love — all eye and ear — irritable, jealous, watchful, and suspicious. One moment passionate, and the next dissolved in tears. So intense a flame must purify or consume the sentiment her beauty inspired — it cannot be purified and — the alternative — it is? c onsu med.
“I cannot rid myself of her — I cannot control her, and in this j eopard y 1 stand; but I abandon all to my destiny. Even Jupiter, you know, was ruled by fate. It is folly to attempt to shape the events of life; as easily might we direct the course of the stars — those very stars, perhaps, govern the accidents of our being. The stars — destiny — Providence, what are they all but various terms for the same invisible, irresistible agency! But Heaven forbid 1 should lose myself in the bewildering mazes of these high speculations! It is enough for me that 1 am a knight of the holy sepulchre, that I wear my crucifix, pray to all the saints and eat no flesh on Fridays. By the way, on the very first day of my arrival here, 1 came nigh to winning the crown of martyrdom by my saintly obedience to the canons of holy church. The Leslie, in simplicity or mischief, remarked on my confining myself to fish on Friday — rebel conscience, in spite of me tinged my cheeks, but thanks to my garb of hypocrisy, panoply of steel never did better service, — the light thrust glanced off and left me unharmed.
“You and I, Wilton, are too old to make, like dreaming boys, an Eldorado of our future, and you will ask me what are my rational chances of success in my present enterprise. I will not remind you of success on former similar occasions, for my vanity has been abated of its presumption this very evening by the indifference, real or affected, of this little sprite.
“Ladies must have lovers — idols must have worshippers, or they are nojonger idols. 1 have but one rival here, and he, I think, is appointed by his wise guardians to another destiny; and being a right dutiful youth, he, no doubt, with management, and good fortune on my part, may be made to surrender his preference, (which by the way is quite obvious) and pass under the yoke of authority. Besides, the helpmate selected by these Judges in Israel, for the good youth might be, if she were a little less saint and more woman, a queen of love and beauty. But she is not to my taste. I covet not smiles cold as a sun-beam on arctic snows. Nothing in life is duller than mathematical virtue — nothing more paralyzing to the imagination than unaffected prudery. 1 detest a woman like a walled city, that can never be
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approached without your being reminded that it is inaccessible — a woman whose measured premeditated words sound always like the sentinel-cry, ‘all is well!’
“Now the Leslie has a generous rashness, a thoughtless impetuosity, a fearlessness of the sanctimonious dictators that surround her, and a noble
to love and enterprise.
“MyTiope is bold, Wilton — my ambition is to win her heart — mv determination to possess her hand; by fair means, if I can, but if fortune is adverse, if, as 1 sometimes fear, when 1 shrink from the falcon glance of her bright eye, as if the spear of Ithuriel 6 touched me, if she has alreadv penetrated my disguise, and persists in disregarding my suit, why then. Necessity! parent of all witty inventions, come thou to my aid.
“Our old acquaintance Chaddock is riding in the harbour here, owner and commander of a good pinnace. I have heard him spoken of in the godly companies I frequent, as a ‘notorious contemner of ordinances,’ from which I infer he is the same bold desperado we knew him. My word for it, it does not require more courage to march up to the cannon’s mouth, than to claim the independence of a gentleman in this pharasaic land. Now I think if I should have occasion to smuggle any precious freight, and convey it over the deep waters, convenient opportunity and ht agents will not be wanting. Time will ripen or blast my budding hopes; if ripen, why then I will cast my slough here, and present my beautiful bride to my royal master, or if, perchance, royalty should be in eclipse in England, there are, thank heaven, other asylums for beauty and fortune.
“Farewell, Wilton, yours in good faith,
“GARDINER.”
/IS SIR PHILIP SIGNED his name to this epistle, he felt Rosa’s head drop upon his shoulder, an action that indicated, too truly, that she had been looking over the last paragraphs, at least, of his letter.
Fury flashed from his eyes, and he raised his hand to strike her, but before he had executed the unmanly act, she burst into a wild hysteric laugh, that changed his resentment to fear. “Rosa — Rosa,” he said, in a soothing tone, “for Heaven’s sake be quiet — you will be overheard — you will betray all.”
contempt of danger that stimulates me at least,
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She seemed not to hear him, but wringing her hands, she repeated again and again, “I wish I were dead! I wish 1 were dead!”
“Hush! foolish, mad child, or you will be discovered, and may indeed bring death upon yourself.”
“Death! I care not; death would be heaven’s mercy to what 1 suffer; what is death to shame! — to guilt! to the bitterness of disappointment! — to the rage of jealousy! — why should not 1 die!” she continued, over- powering Sir Philip’s vain attempts to calm her; “why should not I die? — there is nobody to care for me if I live — and there is nobody to weep for me if I die.”
“Patience — patience, Rosa.”
“Patience! my patience is worn out; 1 am tired of this dreary world. Oh, that Lady Lunford had left me in my convent — 1 should have been happy there. She did not love me. Nobody has loved me since I left the good nuns — nobody but my poor little Canary bird, Mignonne; and she always loved me, and would always sing to me, and sing sweetest when my lady was cruellest. Cruel as my lady was, her cruelty was kindness to thine, Sir Philip. Oh, that you had left me with her!”
“You came to me with your own good-will, Rosa.”
“Ay, Sir Philip — and will not the innocent babe stretch its arms to the assassin if he does but smile on it? You told me you loved me, and I believed you. You promised always to love me, and 1 believed that too; and there was nobody else that loved me, but Mignonne; and now 1 am all alone in the wide world, I do wish 1 were dead.” She sunk down at Sir Philip’s feet, laid her head on his knee, and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. “Oh, what shall I do,” she said, “where shall I go! if 1 go to the good, they will frown on me, and despise me; and I cannot go to the wicked, — they have no pity.”
Sir Philip’s heart, depraved as it was, felt some motions of compas- sion as he looked on this young and beautiful creature, bowed to the earth with remediless anguish; some touches of remorse and pity, such as Milton’s fallen angel felt, when he contemplated those “millions of spirits, for his fault amerc’d of Heav’n.” “Poor child!” he said, laying his hand on her smooth brow, “would to God you have never left your convent!”
Rosa felt the blistering tears that flowed from the relicts of his better nature, drop on her cheek. She raised her heavy lids, and a ray of pleasure shot from her kindling eye. “Then you do love me,” she said, “you would not weep only for pity — you do love me still?”
Sir Philip perceived the eagerness with which she caught at the first glimmering of returning tenderness, and well knew how to draw his advantage from it. He soothed her with caresses and professions, and when he had restored her to composure, he endeavoured to impress her with the necessity, for both their sakes, of more prudent conduct. He convinced her that their happiness, their safety, and perhaps their lives, depended on their escaping detection; and after explaining the defeat of his hopes in relation to Morton, he averred that the part of his letter relating to Miss Leslie, was mere badinage, written for his friend’s amusement; and he concluded with reiterated promises, that he would return with her in the first ship bound to England.
Rosa was credulous — at least, she wished to believe — she was grateful for restored tenderness; and without daring to confess how r nearly she had already betrayed him to Miss Leslie, she promised all the circumspection that Sir Philip required.
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