A Whim, and Its Consequences / Collection of British Authors Vol. CXIV

by G. P. R. James

"What is that?" inquired Chandos.

"Why, the five hundred pounds," answered the other. "I can make no use of it, indeed. I have no need of it. I am like a tree that has grown into a certain shape, and can take no other. I have enough, Sir, for all my wants and wishes. That is what few men can say, I know; but I can from my heart; and when I get the money I shall not know what to do with it. I shall only be put out of my way, and, perhaps, be tempted to play the fool."

"No, no," answered his guest, "I neither can nor will take that which was justly destined for you. Besides, I do not need it, I am not so destitute as you suppose. Something--a pittance indeed, but still something--was secured to me long ago, and it no one can take from me. But, come; as we walk along, we will talk more."

And they did talk as they walked along, earnestly, eagerly, and took more than one turn out of the way because their conversation was not done. At length, however, they directed their course in a straight line across the park, and in a few minutes Winslow Abbey stood before them. Many of my readers who know the part of the country in which I live must have seen it, some few perhaps wandered all over it; but for those who have not, I must describe it as it appeared before the eyes of Lockwood and his companion.

Winslow Abbey was one of the few buildings of Richard the Third's reign. It was not of the most florid style of even that time, and much less so than that of Richard's successor; but still there was wonderful lightness and grace in the architecture. Some parts of the building, indeed, were older and heavier than the rest, but rich and beautiful notwithstanding. These were principally to be found in the abbey church, which was quite in ruins, mantled with green ivy, and fringed with many a self-sown ash. Growing in the midst of the nave, and rising far above, where the roof had once been, was a group of dark pines, waving their tops in the wind like the plumes upon a hearse. Who had planted them no one knew; but the record might well have passed by, for their size bespoke the passing of a century at least. There, ruin had fully done his work, apparently without one effort from man's hand to stay his relentless rage; but such was not the case with the rest of the building. Old and somewhat decayed it certainly was; but traces were evident, over every part, of efforts made, not many years before, to prevent the progress of dilapidation. In the fine delicate mullions, in the groups of engaged columns, in the corbels and buttresses, in the mouldings of the arches, were seen portions of stone, which the hand of time had not yet blackened; and here and there, in the ornamental part, might be traced the labours of a ruder and less skilful chisel than that which had sculptured the original roses, and monsters, and cherubims' heads, scattered over the whole. The ivy, too, which, it would seem, had at one time grown so luxuriantly as to be detrimental, had been carefully removed in many places, and trimmed and reduced to more decorative proportions in others. Where the thin filaments of the plant had sucked out the mortar, with the true worldly wisdom which destroys what it rests on to support itself, fresh cement had been applied; and though some years had evidently passed since these repairs had been made, the edifice was still sound and weather tight.

Projecting in the centre was a large pile, which had probably been the Abbot's lodging, richly decorated with mitre, and key, and insignia of clerical authority; for the Abbot of Winslow had been a great man in his day, and had sat in Parliament amongst the peers of the realm. On either side were large irregular wings, with here and there a mass thrown forward nearly on the line of the great corps de logis, and more richly ornamented than the parts between; but all, as I have said, beautifully irregular, for one of the great excellencies of that style of building is the harmonious variety of the forms. From either angle of the façade ran back long rows of lower buildings, surrounding a court with cloisters, external and internal; and on both sides the deep beech woods came boldly forward, offering, in their brown and yellow tints, a fine contrast to the cold gray stone and the green ivy. All that appeared on the mere outside of the building, was of centuries long gone by, or, at least, appeared so to be. Even the terrace in front, raised by a step or two above the surrounding park.--though probably abbots and monks had passed away ere it was levelled--had been made to harmonize with the Abbey by a screen of light stone-work in the same style. But through the small-paned windows of the building, the notions of modern times peeped out in efforts for that comfort which we so much prize. Shutters of dark oak were seen closed along the front, except in one room, where three windows were open, and rich damask curtains of deep crimson flapped in the November wind.

Chandos halted on the terrace, and gazed round. How many sensations crowd on us when we first see again in manhood the places we have known and loved in youth! But whatever were those in the young man's bosom, they vented themselves in but one expression. "Pull it down!" he exclaimed, in a tone at once melancholy and indignant. "Pull it down!"

"Who, in the name of folly and wickedness, would ever think of such a thing?" cried Lockwood.

"It has been spoken about, nevertheless," answered Chandos; "and he, who had the bad taste to propose it, has now the full power to do it. But let us go in: the house seems well enough; but the park is in a sad neglected state."

"How can it be otherwise?" was Lockwood's answer, as he led the way across the terrace towards one of the doors near the eastern angle of the building. "There is but one keeper and one labourer left. They do all they can, poor people; but it would take twenty hands to keep this large place in order. But the house is better, as you say; and the reason of that is, that, when Sir Harry was here last, just about five years ago, though he only stayed one day, he saw with his own eyes that everything was going to ruin. He therefore ordered it to be put in proper repair. But the park he took no notice of; and it has gone to rack and ruin ever since."