CHAPTER IX.
There is in the fine old town of Norwich, I believe, even to the present day, the remains of a whilom inn, which once stood not far from the River Wansum. Now nothing remains of it but a gable or two, transmuted to purposes very much below the dignity of receiving two-legged guests. Then, however, it was the principal inn in Norwich; and a great change had come over the state and condition of our inns since the time of Chaucer. In that day, inns had reached, in England, very nearly the climax of perfection. Hotels were an abomination unknown, although the name, descended from ancient times, still lingered in various parts of the country. Cleanliness, neatness, perfect ease, and independence characterized the inn of former years; the linen was white as snow; the food was generally of the best kind, however plain the cookery. There a man might take the world as it came; there he might pass his time as in a dream, obtruded upon by none of the hard realities of life, so long as he had in his purse wherewith to satisfy the demands of his host, which in those days were not very extravagant. There he might escape the impertinence, the annoyance, the importunity of the world. There he might riot or revel, muse or meditate, or read or write, or think or sleep, just as he pleased, without interruption. It afforded the most perfect species of liberty, the old English inn, without having any of the drawbacks of confusion and anarchy. No tax-gatherer ever came there, at least with the knowledge of the guests. The constable, even, was seen drinking his pot, or ladling out his punch, or smoking his pipe, with the other friendly persons round the bar, and, so long as order and decency were maintained, and perhaps a little longer, no one interfered with the quiet and ease that reigned within. The inn of the Half Moon, at the time I mention, was one of this sort; and toward it, in the first instance, as directed by others of experience, Ralph Woodhall took his way on his arrival in the city of Norwich, on a somewhat gloomy morning, about eleven o'clock. Before he took rest, however, or did more than brush his clothes from dust, and take off the heavy saddle-bags from their convenient position behind the saddle, to let his beast get a little refreshment and food, Ralph remounted, and rode away to another part of the town, higher up upon the Wansum. This was the old house, or palace of the old Dukes of Norfolk, in which, during their brief terms of residence in Norwich, they kept up in a limited sphere the state and dignity of a sovereign prince.
There had been some doubt in the mind of Ralph, when he arrived in the city, as to whether the nobleman on whom fancy, for the time, seemed to make his hopes depend, was in the town or not; but, as he passed along the streets, the number of servants which he saw in the Howard liveries, and the gayety and bustle which pervaded one quarter of the city, showed him that, so far as finding the duke, his first expectations were likely to be fulfilled. The antique gate-way, with a number of servants crowded under it--the wall surrounding the grounds extending to the river--the massive pile itself of the principal building, did not much impress him; for he thought it very much like one of the colleges at Cambridge, to which his eye was well accustomed. Appearing on horseback, and with a servant behind him, the gates were moved back by the retainers in the porch to give him admission into the court; and, descending there, he was led--while Stilling remained to look after the horses--to a little chamber on the ground floor called the Chamberlain's Office. There he explained his business by simply saying that he brought a letter for the duke from Lord Woodhall; and the grave-looking officer to whom he spoke, looking at the letter in his hand, led him into a waiting-room, where he found three other persons already in attendance on the duke's leisure. Each man was amusing the weary moments of expectation as best he might; one looking out of the window, which displayed an orchard in full beauty; one walking up and down the room, with eyes fixed upon the floor and hands behind the back; and one seated at a large table examining some books, which had been laid there, probably, to beguile the time. Patience and silence seemed to be the order of the day, and Ralph, after looking curiously at the splendid furniture which decorated even that plain room, betook himself to one of those volumes, which soon afforded him amusement to pass half an hour pleasantly. While he read, one after another of his companions in attendance was called out of the room, and at length, laying down the book, he fell into a revery, of that kind which often comes upon us at vacant moments--when brief summings up of the testimony borne by events to the progress of our fate, during a certain period just past, are made by memory, and left to the judgment of the mind, to see if any thing can be made of the case or not.
The great step was taken. Here he was, many miles from home, "seeking his fortune," as the term was then. He had entered the house of one who could at will advance his views or neglect his cause, with nothing to recommend him but one letter from a distant relation, and one from a person he did not know. Something, however, bearing on his destiny was to be decided soon, and he felt all that eager, fluttering anxiety of youth, which every man in early years must have experienced when the great object of the moment was in the balance. There was not much cause for hope, indeed; and expectation, even under the exaggeration of youth, could hardly see space to stand upon; but love is a great fanner of the flame of hope; and love was always mingling a word with all Ralph's cogitations.
The lesser incidents, too, which had lately occurred, presented themselves to the young man's mind when the greater facts were discussed; the interview with the strange personage calling himself Moraber; the conduct of Lady Coldenham; the meeting with Gaunt Stilling, and the misadventure which had occurred to the latter on the road, passed in review. Of all these, the demeanor of his new servant, his circumstances, and his conduct, puzzled Ralph most. What was he? Why did he at once obey the order to follow him? Was there any secret brotherhood or association in the land, like that of the disciples of the old man of the mountains, which bound its members to follow implicitly the orders of an unknown superior? There had been at that time whispers of such a league; and, if Stilling was a member thereof, what dangers and obstructions might not his own course be brought among by retaining the services of a person over whose conduct another maintained so absolute and independent a control? Then, again, the man's demeanor had not been without remarkable points. Perfectly respectful he always was; but that he had his own particular notions, and liked them better than all others, he did not fail to show. He seemed to have no feeling of degradation from the office of servant which he assumed. He gave no vain reason for his obedience; but there was something in his manner which seemed to say, "I have taken upon me certain duties, and the only proper, the only honorable course, is to fulfill them to the very best of my ability. No honest task degrades a man; the vanity of shirking it, or the fault of neglecting its requirements when undertaken, may degrade. These are the only acts which can make the position of a servant degrading. He is as honorable as his master, if he does his duty as well." No task seemed too hard for him; the very words menial services, so often used obnoxiously by the mean and vulgar, he seemed to scorn. His pride was in doing well what he undertook. He appeared to feel that, in doing so, he made himself, in Nature's book, equal with all, superior to many placed continually above him by station and wealth. He would trust the care of the horses to none other; he was careful of his young master's wardrobe; he refused to sit down with him at table, even in small inns, where such a course was common, both in England and France.
All this showed a high mind and a clear intellect; but his character had other puzzling points. Sometimes--and, indeed, this seemed his general humor--he was as gay as the lark, full of glee and merriment; but ever and anon he would fall into deep reveries--fits of thought, deep, profound, even sad, from which it was difficult to rouse him.
Some days after the period of which I write, indeed, he received a letter by the carrier, which seemed to increase the frequency and intensity of these attacks of moodiness; but that had not occurred when Ralph sat in the room at the Duke of Norfolk's, as I have mentioned, and the temper or character of his servant had, to his eyes, all the first sharpness about it.
He was busily engaged in reflections upon all these things, when a stately servant, who had previously called the others out to the presence of the duke, came to summon him also, and led him, with slow and formal steps, to another room on the same floor. Little do the great of this world know how any stiff, haughty, or repulsive manner affects those who, reasonably or unreasonably, have been building up hopes upon their influence or kindness--what luster urbanity or gentleness gives to a favor intended to be conferred; how, by kind courtesy, a disappointment is softened and diminished. Very frequently, the man who will give thousands in charity will not spare a kind word, although it would relieve pangs a thousand-fold more bitter than any which gold can touch. Honor, high honor, to that man who does generous acts generously. There are some such in the world, and, thank God! I know them; but they are not many.
The manner of the Duke of Norfolk was freezing in the extreme. He received his young visitor standing; and, before hearing any thing he had to say, informed him, in a tone cold, though apologetic, that he was in some haste, as he had to go out. Ralph was the more surprised, as the duke had established, generally, a character for courtesy in his dealings with people of inferior rank; but he presented the letter of Lord Woodhall with the hope that that might produce some change in the great man's manner.
Such was not the case, however. The duke opened the letter, ran his eye hastily over it, as a somewhat tiresome ceremony, and then folding it up again, stood silent, as if expecting that Ralph would either say something or go. Seeing, however, that the young man remained silent likewise, he at length said, "Well, Mr. Woodhall, I must think over this, and will let you hear from me in a few days. Tell my chamberlain where you are to be found in Norwich."
"I do not think, my lord duke, that I shall be here very long," replied Ralph, making up his mind, with the rapid rashness of youth, to expect nothing more from the haughty nobleman before him; "I have another letter, however, which I may as well deliver to your grace now, lest I should not have an opportunity of seeing you again."
The duke seemed surprised, and not quite well pleased; but Ralph took out the letter which Stilling had brought him, put it in the nobleman's hand, and was about to retire. The moment the Duke of Norfolk saw the superscription, however, a great change came over his face. "Stay! stay!" he cried; "let me see what this letter contains before you go;" and he ran his eye quickly, but with evident attention, over the few lines within. Before he had quite done, he waved his hand toward a seat, saying, "Pray sit down, Mr. Woodhall," and then resumed the perusal. As soon as he had finished, he took a seat himself, and looking upon Ralph with a smiling countenance, inquired why he had not given him that letter first.
"Because, my lord duke," replied Ralph, "I thought the other from my cousin, Lord Woodhall, the most important. I do not actually know by whom the epistle you hold in your hand was written, it having been sent to me to deliver, without any other intimation; but I suspect that it came from a person so inferior in position to Lord Woodhall, that it might have less weight in your opinion than the other."
The duke smiled. "You were mistaken," he said; "we in the great world learn to estimate matters somewhat differently from others who have not mingled much with matters of general concern, and we give less weight than people generally imagine to rank and wealth. Lord Woodhall is a very excellent nobleman, and my particular good friend; but this gentleman," and he laid his hand significantly upon the paper, "is a very singular and extraordinary personage. Even in these days of infinite oddities he is very remarkable, and, besides his originality, he is a man of immense power of mind, strong will, vast patience, and unchangeable in his purposes; probably from a fixed opinion that certain things are to be, and that it is only required he should shape his course by them, and follow it perseveringly, in order to succeed in his endeavors. This turn has been given to his mind by a passion for judicial astrology, which he imbibed when he and I were fellow-students together at Oxford. He then belonged to Brazen Nose College, where that science, or pretended science, was a good deal cultivated, and although he never made a convert of me, yet I can not but admit that many of his predictions have had a very curious accomplishment. For instance, he named to me long ago, that a change, materially affecting the crown of England, would take place during the first week of February, one thousand six hundred and eighty-five. I read the prophecy to imply the death of the king, but throughout the whole of January his majesty remained perfectly well; and I saw him on the first of February without one token of decay, either in body or mind. I imagined my good friend's prediction would fail; when lo! came the startling news that he had been struck with apoplexy. You know the rest of the events of that week. His majesty died on the sixth, and a great change, indeed, took place."
The duke paused, and seemed to give his mind up to memory for some moments; and Ralph would not interrupt his reveries. At length he again broke silence, returning somewhat abruptly to the subject, and saying, "Moreover, my young friend, these two letters are written in a very different spirit. The first is a mere common letter of introduction, bespeaking my good offices for a young gentleman going to see the world. It is not even written in Lord Woodhall's own hand, though signed by him, and was never calculated to insure you more than merely the civility of an invitation to my house. The second, however, demands, in good broad terms, that I shall do whatever I can to promote your views, with sincerity and zeal; and, good faith, I am willing to do it, though the terms need not have been quite so imperative. First, however, I must know what those views are."
"I will explain them in a moment, my lord duke," replied Ralph; but the other cut him short, saying, "We shall not have time at present, for I am, in reality, going out upon business of some importance; I shall be back, however, in a few hours, and the best plan will be for you to come and take up your residence here for a fortnight or so. During that time we shall find plenty of opportunity for conversation, in the course of which I can learn all your intentions, and perhaps strike out some means of serving you. In the mean time, I will put you into the hands of my chamberlain, who will provide you with what rooms you need, and make you acquainted with the customs of the house."
Thus saying, the duke rang a small bell that stood upon the table, and summoned the chamberlain to his presence. Orders were cordially given for Ralph's hospitable entertainment, and leaving him in the hands of the officer, Norfolk went out to ride.
However far the duke might himself have unbent from his stateliness, the chamberlain remained as dignified as ever. Perfectly civil was he, indeed, for he had seen at a glance that the young stranger was high in the favor of his lord; but he was solemn and slow, with all the rigidity of a hackneyed official, putting a certain degree of state into the slightest movement, and uttering every word in a tone of ceremony. He inquired carefully what number of domestics Master Ralph Woodhall would bring with him, and finding that he was only to be accompanied by one, declared that that would render the arrangement of his apartments very easy, adding, with a pompous air, that gentlemen sometimes came accompanied by as many as twenty, which occasionally put the duke's officers to some inconvenience.
All, however, was at length arranged, a stable pointed out for the two horses, a small suite of rooms, at the western corner of the building, assigned to the master and his servant, and their names duly inscribed in the chamberlain's book.
This completed, Ralph took his departure, and returned to the inn, where Stilling was waiting his arrival, with some traces of anxiety upon his face.
"Well, sir, how has it gone?" he inquired, when Ralph appeared. "Is the duke courteous or not this morning? for the people here tell me his mood varies a good deal, according as he has many or few people to see; mighty civil to the first who come, somewhat short to the last."
"Matters have gone better than I could have expected," replied Ralph; "thanks, I believe, to the letter which you brought me, for till he saw that I can not say the duke showed any great urbanity."
"Ay, I knew that would do the business," replied Stilling.
"Why, I thought you did not know who it came from," observed Ralph
"True, I did not know," replied the man, laughing, "but I guessed. I have a rare bundle of guesses always about me, and they generally turn out tolerably right. But what is to come of it now, master! When shall we hear more? I do not like things to stick by the way."
"We shall hear more very soon, I trust," replied Ralph; "but, in the mean time, you must get ready, Stilling, to take up your abode with me at the duke's house."
"Hurrah!" cried Stilling, "that is progress, to have effected a lodgment on the walls already. But I won't lose a moment, sir, for that which is quick begun is quick ended, notwithstanding all that old women may say;" and away he went to lead forth the horses and replace the saddle-bags.