Part 20

The funeral of Eustace Inglesant took place a few days after, at the Church on the borders of the chase. Snow had fallen in the meanwhile; and the train of black mourners passed over the waste of white that covered the park. A multitude of people filled the churchyard, and crowded round the outside of the hall. Lady Cardiff, by lavish almsgiving and other vagaries, had always attracted a number of vagrant and masterless people to Oulton; and there were always some encampments of such people in the chase. She particularly favoured mountebanks and quacks of all kinds, and numbers of them were present at the funeral. Some few of the country gentry attended; but Eustace being almost unknown in the county, and his wife by no means popular, many who otherwise would have been present were not so. The Puritan authorities of the neighbourhood suspected Lady Cardiff's establishment as a haunt of recusants. Dr. More was a known Royalist; Eustace had been only restrained from active exertion on the same side by his love of pleasure and his wife's prudence; and the Puritans regarded the Quakers with no favour. The herd of idle and vicious people, as the authorities considered them, who frequented Oulton, was an abomination in their eyes; and understanding that a number of them would be at the funeral, two or three Puritan magistrates, with armed servants and constables, assembled to keep order, as they said; but, as it proved, to provoke a riot. To make matters worse, Dr. More began to read the Prayer Book service, which was forbidden by law. The Justices interposed; the mob of mountebanks, and players, and idle people sided with the Church party, which had always given them a friendly toleration, and commenced an assault upon the constables and Justices' servants, driving them from the grave side with a storm of snowballs. The funeral was completed with great haste, and the mourning party returned to the house, whither the mob also resorted, and were regaled with provisions of all kinds during the afternoon, being with difficulty induced to disperse at night.

Inglesant took no part in this riot, being indeed still too weak and ill to exert himself at all. He expected to be arrested and sent back to London; but the authorities did not take much notice of the riot, contenting themselves with dispersing the people, and seeing that most of them left the neighbourhood, which they were induced to do by being set in the village stocks, and otherwise imprisoned and intimidated.

Lady Cardiff had sent messages to Inglesant every day, expressing her interest in him, and she now sent Van Helmont to him with the information that a large sum of money, which she had assigned to his brother, would now be his. This sum, which amounted to several thousand pounds, she was ready to pay over to Inglesant whenever he might desire it. She hoped he would remain at Oulton till his health was more established, but she hinted that she thought it was for his own interest that neither his stay there, nor indeed in England, should be unnecessarily prolonged. Meanwhile, she recommended him to Dr. More and to the Quakers; the teaching which he would derive from both sources, she assured him, would be much to his benefit. Inglesant returned a courteous message expressive of his obligation for her extraordinary generosity, and assuring her that he should endeavour to benefit by whatever her inmates might communicate to him. He informed her that he intended, as soon as his strength was sufficiently established, to go to Paris, where the only friend he had left was, and that any sum of money she was so generous as to afford him might be transmitted to the merchants there. He had some thoughts, he said, of going to Gidding, but had learnt that soon after the execution of the King, the house had been attacked by a mob of soldiers and others, and that the family, who had timely warning of their intention, had left the neighbourhood and were dispersed. He concluded by hoping that before he left he might be allowed to thank his benefactress in person.

Some weeks passed over at Oulton with great tranquillity, and Inglesant regained his strength and calmness of mind. There was a large and valuable library in the house, and the society of Dr. More was pleasant to Inglesant, though in many ways they were far from congenial; indeed, there was more in Van Helmont's character and tastes that suited his tone of mind. During these weeks, however, Inglesant began to adapt himself to a course of religious life from which he never altogether departed, and which, after some doubts and many attempts on the part of others to divert him from it, he followed to the end of his life. He was no doubt strengthened at the beginning of this course by the conversation of Dr. More and also of the Quakers. These latter, whom Inglesant had been led to regard with aversion, he found harmless and sober people, whose blameless lives, and the elevated mysticism of their conversation, commended them to him.

The transient calm of this existence was, however, broken by one absorbing idea--the desire of being revenged upon his brother's murderer, of tracking the Italian's path, and bringing him to some terrible justice. It was this that induced him to seek the Jesuit, whom at one time he had been inclined to shun. No one, he considered, would have it in his power, from the innumerable agents in every country with whom he had connection, to assist him in his search so much as the Jesuit; and he believed that he had deserved as much at his master's hand. But it was not natural that, at any rate at once, he should suppose that such a motive as this would be any hindrance to him in a religious life, and for a long time he was unconscious of any such idea.

It will be as well here to endeavour to understand something of the peculiar form which Christianity had assumed in Inglesant's mind--a form which was not peculiar to himself, but which he possessed in common with most in that day whose training had been more or less similar to his own. It was similar in many respects to that which prevails in the present day in most Roman Catholic countries, and may be described as Christianity without the Bible. It is doubtful whether, except perhaps once or twice in College Chapel, he had ever read a chapter of the Bible himself in his life. Certainly he never possessed a Bible himself; of its contents, excepting those portions which are read in Church and those contained in the Prayer Book, he was profoundly ignorant. It was not included in the course of studies set him by the Jesuit. Of the Protestant doctrines of justification by faith and by the blood of Christ, and of the Calvinistic ones of predestination and assurance, he was only acquainted in a vague and general way, as he might have heard mention of them in idle talk, mostly in contempt and dislike. It is true the Laudian School in the Church, in which he had been brought up, held doctrines which, in outward terms, might seem to bear some affinity with some, if not all of these; but they were in reality very different. The Laudian School held, indeed, that the sacrifice of Christ's blood had removed the guilt of sin, and that by that, and that only, was salvation secured of men; but they held that this had been accomplished on the Cross, once for all, independently of anything that man could do or leave undone. The very slightest recognition, on the part of man, of this Divine sacrifice, the very least submission to the Church ordinances, combined with freedom from outward sin, was sufficient to secure salvation to the baptized; and indeed the Church regarded with leniency and hope even the wild and reprobate. It is true that the Laudian press teemed with holy works, setting the highest of pure standards before its readers, and exhorting to the following of a holy life; but this life was looked upon rather as a spiritual luxury and privilege, to which high and refined natures might well endeavour to attain, rather than as absolutely necessary to salvation. With this view the Church regarded human error with tolerance, and amusements and enjoyments with approbation, and as deserving the highest sanctions of religion. Inglesant's Christianity, therefore, was ignorant of doctrine and dogma of almost every kind, and concentrated itself altogether on what may be called the Idea of Christ, that is, a lively conception of and attraction to the person of the Saviour. This idea,--which comes to men in different ways, and which came to Inglesant for the first time in the sacrament at Gidding, being, I should suppose, a purely intellectual one,--would no doubt be inefficient and transitory, were it not for the unique and mysterious power of attraction which it undoubtedly possesses. In the pursuit of this idea he received little assistance either from Dr. More. The school to which the doctor belonged,--the Christian Platonists,--had no tendency to that exclusive worship of the person of Jesus, which, in some religious schools, has almost superseded the worship of God. This he had received from the Jesuits and the mystical books of Catholic devotion which had had so great an influence over him. The Jesuits, with all their faults, held fast by the motive of their founder, and the worship of Jesus was by them carried to its fullest extent. Dr. More's theology was more that of a philosophical Deism, into which the person and attributes of Christ entered as a part of an universal scheme, in which the universe, mankind, the all-pervading Spirit of God, and the objects of thought and sense, played distinct and conspicuous parts.

One fine and warm day in the early spring, Inglesant and the doctor were walking in the garden at the side of the house bordering on the chase and park. The wide expanse of grassy upland stretched before them; overhead, the arch of heaven, chequered by the white clouds, was full of life and light and motion; across the water of the lakes the Church bells, rung for amusement by the village lads, came to the ear softened and yet enriched in tone; the spring air, fanned by a fresh breeze, refreshed the spirits and the sense. The doctor began, as upon a favourite theme, to speak of his great sense of the power and benefit of the fresh air.

"I would always," he said, "be '_sub dio_', if it were possible. Is there anything more delicious to the touch than the soft, cool air playing on our heated temples, recruiting and refrigerating the spirits and the blood? I can read, discourse, or think nowhere as well as in some arbour, where the cool air rustles through the moving leaves; and what a rapture of mind does such a scene as this always inspire within me! To a free and divine spirit how lovely, how magnificent is this state for the soul of man to be in, when, the life of God inactuating her, she travels through heaven and earth, and unites with, and after a sort feels herself the life and soul of this whole world, even as God? This indeed is to become Deiform--not by imagination, but by union of life. God doth not ride me whither I know not, but discourseth with me as a friend, and speaks to me in such a dialect as I can understand fully,--namely, the outward world of His creatures; so that I am in fact '_Incola coeli in terra_,' an inhabitant of paradise and heaven upon earth; and I may soberly confess that sometimes, walking abroad after my studies, I have been almost mad with pleasure,--the effect of nature upon my soul having been inexpressibly ravishing, and beyond what I can convey to you."

Inglesant said that such a state of mind was most blessed, and much to be desired; but that few could hope to attain to it, and to many it would seem a fantastic enthusiasm.

"No," said the doctor, "I am not out of my wits, as some may fondly interpret me, in this divine freedom; but the love of God compelleth me; and though you yourself know the extent of fancy, when phantoms seem real external objects, yet here the principle of my opponents, the Quakers (who, it may be, are nearer to the purity of Christianity--for the life and power of it--than many others), is the most safe and reasonable,--to keep close to the Light within a man."

"You agree with the Quakers, then, in some points?" said Inglesant.

"They have indeed many excellent points, and very nobly Christian, which I wish they would disencumber from such things as make them seem so uncouth and ridiculous; but the reason our lady has taken so to them as to change some of her servants for Quakers, and to design to change more, is that they prove lovers of quiet and retirement, and they fit the circumstances that she is in, that cannot endure any noise, better than others; for the weight of her affliction lies so heavy upon her, that it is incredible how very seldom she can endure any one in her chamber, and she finds them so still, quiet, and serious, that their company is very acceptable to her; and she is refreshed by the accounts of their trials and consolations, and their patience and support under great distress. Baron Van Helmont frequents their meetings."

"What do you think of the Baron?"

"I think he knows as little of himself, truly and really, as one who had never seen him in his life."

Inglesant did not try to penetrate into this oracular response; but said,--

"Have you seen Mr. Fox, the famous Quaker?"

"Yes; I saw him once," replied the doctor; "and in conversation with him I felt myself as it were turned into brass, so much did his spirit and perversity oppress mine."

"There are some men," the doctor went on, after a pause--but Inglesant did not know of whom he was thinking--"that by a divine sort of fate are virtuous and good, and this to a very great and heroical degree; and come into the world rather for the good of others, and by a divine force, than through their own proper fault, or any immediate or necessary congruity of their natures. All which is agreeable to that opinion of Plato, that some descend hither to declare the being and nature of the gods, and for the greater health, purity, and perfection of this lower world. I would fain believe, Mr. Inglesant," he continued, to the other's great surprise, "that you are one of those. Ever since I first saw you I have had some thought of this; and the more I see of you the more I hope and believe that some such work as this is reserved for you. You have, what is very happy for you, what I call an ethereal sort of body--to use the Pythagoric phrase--even in this life, a mighty purity and plenty of the animal spirits, which you may keep lucid by that conduct and piety by which you may govern yourself. And this makes it all the more incumbent on you to have a great care to keep in order this luciform vehicle of the soul, as the Platonists call it; for there is a sanctity of body which the sensually minded do not so much as dream of. And this divine body should be cultivated as well as the divine life; for by how much any person partakes more of righteousness and virtue, he hath also a greater measure of this divine body or celestial matter within himself; he throws off the baser affections of the earthly body, and replenishes his inner man with so much larger draughts of ethereal or celestial matter; and to incite you still more to this effort, you have only to consider that the oracle of God is not to be heard but in His holy temple, that is to say, in a good and holy man, thoroughly sanctified in spirit, soul, and body."

*CHAPTER XVIII.*

Shortly after the conversation recorded in the previous chapter, Inglesant, who appeared completely restored to health,--thanks to the Baron Van Helmont and to rest of body,--left Oulton, and, without going to London, went to Rye, and sailed thence to France, where he arrived about the middle of May 1651. He had taken a passage in a vessel sailing to Dieppe, and from thence he posted to Paris, this route being thought much safer than the one through Calais, which was much infested by robbers.

He found Paris full of the fugitive Royalists in a state of distress and destitution, which was so great, that on the Queen of England's going to St. Germain's on one occasion, her creditors threatened to arrest her coach. The young King Charles was in Scotland, previous to his march into England, which terminated in the battle of Worcester. Inglesant was well received by the Royalists to whom he made himself known on his arrival. The Glamorgan negotiations were by this time pretty well understood among the Royalists, and Inglesant's conduct fairly well appreciated. He had the reputation of being a useful and trustworthy agent, and as such was well received by the heads of the party. He presented himself at the Louvre, where the Queen was, who received him graciously, and expressed a wish that he would remain in Paris, as she had been speaking not many days ago with Father St. Clare concerning him. Inglesant inquired where the Jesuit was, and was told, at St. Germain's with the French Court, and that he would be in Paris again shortly. After leaving the Queen, Inglesant applied to the merchants with whom his money was to have been lodged; but found that by some misunderstanding a much smaller sum had arrived than he had expected. Such as it was, however, he was able from it to make advances to the Royalist gentlemen, many of whom of the highest rank were in absolute distress; and he even advanced a considerable sum indirectly to the Queen, and, through the Duke of Ormond, to the young Duke of Gloucester.

It is not necessary to enter into any details with regard to the state of France or the French Court at that time. The Court had been obliged to leave Paris some time before, owing to the violence of the populace, and was at present much embarrassed from the same cause. It was therefore quite unable to afford any help to the distressed fugitives from England, had it wished to do so, and even the Queen Henrietta,--a daughter of France,--could scarcely obtain assistance, and was reduced to the greatest pecuniary distress. The Duke of Ormond parted with his last jewel to procure money for the use of the Duke of Gloucester, whose guardian he was, and the inferior Royalists were reduced to still greater necessities. No sooner, therefore, was it known that Inglesant had means at his disposal, than he became once more a person of the greatest consequence, and every one sought him out, or, if not before acquainted with him, desired an introduction. He frequented the Chapel of Sir Richard Browne, who had been ambassador from Charles the First, and still retained his privileges, his chapel, and his household, being accredited from the young fugitive King to the French Court. This was the only Anglican place of worship in Paris, or indeed at that time, perhaps, in the world. Ordinations were performed there, and it was frequented by the King and the two young Princes, the Duke of York and the Duke of Gloucester, and by all the Royalist fugitives then in Paris.

Inglesant was the more welcome, as many of the Royalist gentlemen who had any money at all, refused to stay in Paris, where there were so many claims upon them, but went on to other countries, especially Italy. He found many of these gentlemen in a very excited state, owing to the efforts of the Queen Mother to discourage the English Church, and to win over perverts to Romanism. The King and the Duke, it is true, received the sacrament in the Ambassador's Chapel, partaking of it together before the other communicants, Lord Biron, Inglesant's old friend, and Lord Wilmot, holding a white cloth before the two Princes; but the Queen Mother was making every effort to pervert the young Duke of Gloucester, and throwing all the weight of her influence and patronage on the side of the Papists. Several of the maids of honour had been discharged shortly before Inglesant's arrival in Paris, for refusing to conform to the Romish Mass. Dr. Cosin, the Dean of Peterborough, a profound Ritualist, but at the same time devoted to the Anglican Church, had preached a sermon in the Chapel comforting and supporting these ladies. Inglesant being with the Queen at the Palais Royal, one morning, as she was going to her private mass, was commanded to accompany her; and upon his readily complying, the Queen afterwards spoke to him on the subject of religion, inquiring why he, who had so long been so closely connected with the Catholic Church, did not become one of its members. Inglesant pleaded that the Jesuit, Father St. Clare, had discouraged him from joining the Papists, as not convenient in the position in which he had been placed. The Queen said that the reasons which actuated the Father did not any longer exist, but that she would wait till she could take his advice; in the meantime requesting Inglesant to attend the Romish services as much as possible, which he promised to do. As a matter of choice, he preferred the English communion to the mass, but he regarded both as means of sacramental grace, and endeavoured at low mass to bring his mind into the same devout stillness and condition of adoration as at a communion. It would appear that about this time he must have been formally received into the Romish Church, for he confessed and received the sacrament at low mass; but no mention of the ceremony occurs, and it is possible that the priests received instructions respecting him, while there is clear proof that he attended the services at the Ambassador's Chapel, and once at any rate partook of the sacrament there.

Here he met with Mr. Hobbes, who expressed himself pleased to see him, and entered into long discourses with him respecting the Glamorgan negotiations and the late King's policy generally,--discourses which were very instructive to Inglesant, though he felt a greater repugnance to the man than when he formerly met him in London. The religious thoughts which had filled Inglesant's mind at Oulton were far from forgotten, and when he arrived in Paris, his first feeling had been one of dissatisfaction at finding himself at once involved again in political intrigue; but his affection for the Jesuit, apart from his desire to discover the Italian by his means, made him desire to meet him; and he continued in Paris, waiting with this intention, when an event occurred which altogether diverted his thoughts.