Resolved to make the Circuit of the Cottages, but onlie reached the first, wherein I found poor Nell in such Grief of Body and Mind, that I was avised to wait with her a long Time. Askt why she had not sent to us for Relief; was answered she had thought of doing soe, but was feared of making too free. After a lengthened Visitt, which seemed to relieve her Mind, and certaynlie relieved mine, I bade her Farewell, and at the Wicket met my Father coming up with a playn-favoured but scholarlike looking reverend Man. He sayd, "Moll, I could not think what had become of you." I answered, I hoped I had not kept him waiting for Dinner—poor Nell had entertayned me longer than I wisht, with the Catalogue of her Troubles. The Stranger looking attentively at me, observed that may be the poor Woman had entertayned an Angel unawares; and added, "Doubt not, Madam, we woulde rather await our Dinner than that you should have curtayled your Message of Charity." Hithertoe, my Father had not named this Gentleman to me; but now he sayd, "Child, this is the Reverend Doctor Jeremy Taylor, Chaplain in Ordinarie to his Majesty, and whom you know I have heard more than once preach before the King since he abode in Oxford." Thereon I made a lowly Reverence, and we walked homewards together. At first, he discoursed chiefly with my Father on the Troubles of the Times, and then he drew me into the Dialogue, in the Course of which I let fall a Saying of Mr. Agnew's, which drew from the reverend Gentleman a respectfulle Look I felt I no Way deserved. Soe then I had to explain that the Saying was none of mine, and felt ashamed he shoulde suppose me wiser than I was, especiallie as he commended my Modesty. But we progressed well, and he soon had the Discourse all to himself, for Squire Paice came up, and detained Father, while the Doctor and I walked on. I could not help reflecting how odd it was, that I, whom Nature had endowed with such a very ordinarie Capacitie, and scarce anie Taste for Letters, shoulde continuallie be thrown into the Companie of the cleverest of Men,—first, Mr. Milton: then Mr. Agnew; and now, this Doctor Jeremy Taylor. But, like the other two, he is not merely clever, he is Christian and good. How much I learnt in this short Interview! for short it seemed, though it must have extended over a good half Hour. He sayd, "Perhaps, young Lady, the Time may come when you shall find safer Solace in the Exercise of the Charities than of the Affections. Safer: for, not to consider how a successfulle or unsuccessfulle Passion for a human Being of like Infirmities with ourselves, oft stains and darkens and shortens the Current of Life, even the chastened Love of a Mother for her Child, as of Octavia, who swooned at 'Tu, Marcellus, eris,'—or of Wives for their Husbands, as Artemisia and Laodamia, sometimes amounting to Idolatry—nay, the Love of Friend for Friend, with alle its sweet Influences and animating Transports, yet exceeding the Reasonableness of that of David for Jonathan, or of our blessed Lord for St. John and the Family of Lazarus, may procure far more Torment than Profit: even if the Attachment be reciprocal, and well grounded, and equallie matcht, which often it is not. Then interpose human Tempers, and Chills, and Heates, and Slyghtes fancied or intended, which make the vext Soul readie to wish it had never existed. How smalle a Thing is a human Heart! you might grasp it in your little Hand; and yet its Strifes and Agonies are enough to distend a Skin that should cover the whole World! But, in the Charities, what Peace! yea, they distill Sweetnesse even from the Unthankfulle, blessing him that gives more than him that receives; while, in the Main, they are laid out at better Interest than our warmest Affections, and bring in a far richer Harvest of Love and Gratitude. Yet, let our Affections have their fitting Exercise too, staying ourselves with the Reflection, that there is greater Happinesse, after alle Things sayd, in loving than in being loved, save by the God of Love who first loved us, and that they who dwell in Love dwell in Him."
Then he went on to speak of the manifold Acts and Divisions of Charity; as much, methought, in the Vein of a Poet as a Preacher; and he minded me much of that Scene in the tenth Book of the Fairie Queene, soe lately read to us by Mr. Agnew, wherein the Red Cross Knight and Una were shown Mercy at her Work.
Aug. 10, 1644.
A Pack-horse from Sheepscote just reported, laden with a goodlie Store of Books, besides sundrie smaller Tokens of Rose's thoughtfulle Kindnesse. I have now methodicallie divided my Time into stated Hours, of Prayer, Exercise, Studdy, Housewiferie, and Acts of Mercy, on however a humble Scale; and find mine owne Peace of Mind thereby increased notwithstanding the Darknesse of publick and Dullnesse of private Affairs.
Made out the Meaning of "Cynosure" and "Cimmerian Darknesse." . . .
Aug. 15, 1644.
Full sad am I to learn that Mr. Milton hath published another Book in Advocacy of Divorce. Alas, why will he chafe against the Chain, and widen the cruel Division between us? My Father is outrageous on the Matter, and speaks soe passionatelie of him, that it is worse than not speaking of him at alle, which latelie I was avised to complain of.
Aug. 30, 1644.
Dick beginneth to fancie himself in Love with _Audrey Paice—_an Attachment that will doe him noe good: his Tastes alreadie want raising, and she will onlie lower them, I feare,—a comely, romping, noisie Girl, that, were she but a Farmer's Daughter, woulde be the Life and Soul of alle the Whitsun-ales, Harvest-homes, and Hay-makings in the Country: in short, as fond of idling and merrymaking as I once was myself: onlie I never was soe riotous.
I beginne to see Faults in Dick and Harry I never saw before. Is my Taste bettering, or my Temper worsenning? At alle Events, we have noe cross Words, for I expect them not to alter, knowing how hard it is to doe soe by myself.