Frank Marland's Manuscripts; or, Memoirs of a modern Templar

Front matter

FRANK MARLAND'S MANUSCRIPTS. FRANK MARLAND'S MANUSCRIPTS; OR llUmob of a Utokn fa|k BT F. FREDERICK BRANDT. "Tompla quam dilecta." LONDON : J. F. HOPE, 16, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. MDCCCLK. LONDON : J. F. Hope, Great Marlrorough Street. FRANK MARLAInDS MANUSCRIPTS. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. From the times of Sir Walter Scott, and the date of the publication of his "Tales of my Landlord," and his " Chronicles of the Canon gate," to the more recent days of the appearance of " Boswell's Letters ;" indeed, I may say from a period " beyond which the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," a custom or fashion, call it what you please, has prevailed amongst authors. It is this : the writer, with a view of launching his work and gaining a foot ing with the public, commences by telling how he became possessed of the materials for such work.

He constitutes himself for the occasion an imaginary editor of imaginary memoirs, derived B from imaginary manuscripts, possibly in the form of imaginary letters written by and ad dressed to imaginary persons. He then proceeds to show how it happens, fortuitously and romantically, that he, of all men in the world, should be the lucky proprietor of the manuscripts in question, and how and why he is irresistibly drawn on as it were, and induced to place them before the public in the shape of a book. He lays stress upon his anxiety to share with others the pleasure which he himself has derived from the perusal of the amusing or instructive matter which has fallen into his hands, and wishes to make everyone, who is able and willing to expend a few shillings in the purchase of the volume which he is about to bring forth, or a few pence for the liberty of reading it, as happy and as wise as he is himself.

Recourse has been had to almost ever} fictitious statement within the range of a man's imagination, for the purpose of causing the world to believe that the self-styled editor is really and truly what he professes to be, and in no manner of way accountable for the sentiments and opinions contained in the pages of his work. For instance : Our author is called away from his home by news of the alarming illness of a near and dear friend or relative. After a long day's journey he arrives tired and weary at a pleasant country inn (here follows a vivid description of the snow out of doors, and the blazing fire within, effects of light on shining goblets, glasses, and pewter pots in the bar, red curtains, and all that kind of thing). He there puts up for the night. Having ordered and eaten a snug dinner, whilst discussing his solitary bottle of fine old port (you always find amazing wine at a roadside inn under similar circumstances), he is accosted by a stranger, who asks permission to bring his glass to the table of our friend, and who turns out to be a charming companion, with whom he passes a delightful evening.

Chapter. I. Treating Of The Birth And Infancy Of Frank Marland

In these days of biographies and autobiog raphies, both real and fictitious, of histories of men and women celebrated, no matter whether so in the eyes of the world or merely in the opinion of their own relatives and friends, a custom prevails amongst authors of dwelling upon all the incidents connected with the birth of the hero or heroine, as the case may be, of the story to be told. I think this custom a bad one, and my opinion is founded upon many reasons, not the least cogent of which is the gross indelicacy of raising the curtain, which does or ought to conceal the most minute cir cumstance connected with that critical period. In the class of works which I now presume to censure, a full and particular account is given of the approaching event, of the fears and antici pations of the parents, and of the prognostica tions of the village gossips, even as to the sex of the unborn infant.

The probability of the birth of twins is discussed, and in some cases the poor embryo has been named, and his career planned for him long before the day when produced into a cold and heartless world, he wisely dies almost before he has breathed. When the time for the introduction of the " welcome little stranger," approaches, the par ticulars of the advent of the doctor and nurse are given with as much care and minuteness of description as if it mattered one pin to the public, how, or under what circumstances these very necessary personages arrived, or indeed whether they arrived at all, or how, and under what circumstances the future hero of the story was born, always provided that he was born somehow or other. Still less do the readers of the present day take account of what the old crones, who are said to assemble on such occa sions, think of the size of the newly born infant physically viewed, or prophecy concerning his magnitude intellectually considered.

The imitators of Sterne have been numerous, and even admitting, for the sake of the talent by the author displayed, that the birth of one Shandy may be described with advantage, yet the family will not bear any additions, and I for one will not join the ranks of these plagiarists. To begin my history — Francis Marland was born of respectable parents in the county of Bulford — a county long celebrated for its aristo cratic squires, who are wont to estimate a man not by the amount of intellect or education with which he is blessed, but by the number of acres which he possesses — a county famous for the manufacture of a peculiar kind of cheese, and for a now-improving system of farming. In place of the term improving, I should be glad if I could consistently with the exigencies of veracity, have used the word improved, or good, or excellent.

But so long as both landlords and farmers in that happy land insist upon assur ing you, that fields productive of sour grass, and rushes in ample crops and noble tufts are the best for feeding cows, whose milk is destined for conversion into cheese, I cannot in fairness be required by the most ardent admirer of Bul fordshire to go further in my praise of the agri culture of that county, than I do, when I aver that of late years, there has been a marked im provement in the system gradually gaining ground, and eventually perhaps destined to ap proach perfection. Well, Frank was born in a small and pretty village in Bulfordshire. Nay, I believe it to be the very sweetest and prettiest village in the known world. A perfect oasis it formed and still does form in the desert of that hideous county.

Frank's father was the curate of the parish over which this charming hamlet was scattered in detached farms and cottages, and in the glorious old black and white timber Rectory of Abbotsfield (the Rector himself being the son of a Peer and a pluralist was, of course, non-resident) Frank was born about the end of the year of grace, 1819. A short description of this house and of the grounds immediately surrounding it, may not be entirely without interest to the reader, and knowing how dearly my hero loved the place of his birth, I venture to interpose a page or two which some persons may well consider as some what out of place. The Rectory House in which Frank was born, was, as I have before observed, one of those black and white structures built of timber and wattled clay, so often to be met with in England, and especially in Bulfordshire and the neighbouring counties ; you entered it by a t gable-ended porch and massive oaken folding doors, leading into a large hall open to the rafters and beams of the roof.

Around this hall ran a gallery, to which access was gained by a flight of stairs guarded by carved wooden balustrades. Out of the gallery turned several old bedrooms, and particularly one called the Hall Chamber, over the fireplace of which was a tablet bearing a Latin inscription, referring truly to the fact that at a certain date the house "pene lapsa" had been restored, but believed by all servants and others ignorant of the dead languages to relate to some former rector of the parish. This worthy, so said the legend, had, at his own re quest, been bricked up in the chimney after his death, and it was well known that on stormy nights he was accustomed to promenade in the aforesaid gallery. How far this story is true I c cannot say, but the fact that the chimney of that old room always smoked is by no means with out its significance.

This hall was used as a dining room, and a very picturesque scene was that viewed from the gallery on the occasion of Mr. Marland -♦giving a grand dinner to his aristocratic neighbours. It was a cold and drafty place, however, and a new dining room was subsequently added, much to the comfort of Mrs. Marland, but the extreme horror of all the old gossips of the village, who used to say that the family would never prosper more after the abandonment of the ancient hall. There was a quaint old drawing room, or parlour, quaint old bedrooms, and a curious old room over the entrance porch, where the family governess held her gentle rule. There were funny old staircases leading from nowhere to nowhere, a large servants' hall, and a noble kitchen. Altogether it was a glorious old house. Outside it was as pretty a bit of picturesque architecture as man could desire to see, gable ended, pinnacled, and wea ther boarded ; grotesque corbels here and there, and dormer windows all over the roof.

Not less perfect were the Rectory grounds. Frank's father loved the place, and took a delight in im proving and beautifying it. He had trained ivy and creeping plants up every portion of the house, and over every building near, which of fended the eye. He was a great rose fancier too, and specimens of every species of every genus of that queen of flowers were to be found in the gardens of Abbotsfield Rectory. His taste, however, was not confined to roses, and in the proper season the whole grounds repre sented an embowered paradise of flowers. At the back of the house was a walk of fine nut trees, planted on a long stone terrace, and so old, so large, so luxuriant, as to meet over head and form one continuous avenue of nearly a quarter of a mile in length. Their age was extreme, and the annual festivities and al fresco entertainments under their shade, and the joyousness and jollity inseparable from a holiday visit to " Abbotsfield nutting " are things Ions to be remembered.

To conclude this somewhat lengthy, and, I fear, tedious description, let me say in one word, few more charmc ing spots than the place of our friend's birth, exist in this happy land of ours. Frank was the first-born of his parents, and no sooner was he introduced into the world than he was pronounced to be one of the very finest babies ever seen ; this as a matter of course. I have reason to believe that he was what is usually called " a fractious child ;" but, however this may be, one thing is very certain, namely, that he was in the habit of indulging in fits of screaming, displaying every symptom of ungovernable passion, and of no ordinary duration in point of time. True it is that at a later and more advanced period of his existence the " tantrums " to which he was subject, and which as he grew older abated in no very marked degree, were attributed to the fact that the poor child was engaged in the painful operation of cutting his first teeth.

The teeth having all appeared, and the musical performances still continuing, the measles were the next reason assigned as a cause of his misconduct. The measles over, the chicken pox got all the blame and so on through every complaint to which children are said to be usually subject. I am bound, however, as a faithful chronicler of this most veracious history to say, that from inquiries which I have instituted, and observations which I have made on the character of my friend, I must give it as my decided opinion, that temper, and temper alone, was the cause of these outward and visible signs of the working of the old Adam within. The most effectual remedy which his father had been able to discover for cooling these amiable ebullitions of spirit, was a very simple one, but at the same time not without the merit of originality It was to put the young rascal to bed, no matter at what time of day, and to lay upon his little person a folio volume of " Dr. Stackhouse's whole body of Divinity."

This had the effect of causing the screams and struggles for a time to increase in loudness and vigour most tremendously, but eventually the result was, that Master Frank, totally unable to extricate himself from so ponderous a weight of learning, invariably fell fast asleep, and by this means the storm was calmed, and peace and quietness restored to the troubled household, of which he was at once the hope and the comfort. There is a story in that ever-to-be-remembered with feelings of gratitude and pleasure, work commonly called " The Arabian Nights," of a physician who cured a sick Sultan of a dangerous complaint in this wise. He inclosed in the handle of a racket-bat, or some such im plement, certain precious drugs, the virtues of which, when extracted by the warmth of the hand of the august player, penetrated into his whole system, and effected a perfect cure.

I know not whether Frank's case is a parallel one, and whether the words of wisdom contained in the volume laid on him, passed through the heated binding of the book and sank into his body in some mysterious and salutary manner but most assuredly he in after life looked upon this identical folio with no ordinary feelings of respect. It eventually came into his possession, and was one of the books seized by the Benchers for rent, and hence arose a most un seemly wrangle between the aforesaid dignitaries and our hero, the former alleging their right to take it as a distress, and the latter asserting that it was a heirloom, and passed with the freehold. However, whichever of the contending powers was in the right, the authorities of the Temple stopped Frank on his stairs one evening as he was attempting to carry off what he urged was his own property.

One slight circumstance was certainly hinted at, namely, that at this very time, a cart chartered by him from the nearest greengrocer's shop at eighteenpence an hour, was waiting in Middle Temple Lane, half full of his effects, and, with the book he was also taking, the whole of the plate which he possessed, consisting of half a dozen silver forks, as many spoons of the same metal, and a pewter pot won in a " scratch " boat race at Oxford. I may perhaps add, that the most valuable portion of his not very valuable furniture had already been cleverly removed from his chambers, and he got clear off with the forks, spoons, and tankard, but was obliged to part with his darling Stackhouse. Whether or not this learned treatise was legally distrainablc must remain in doubt; equally unsettled must be the question whether, as his enemies said, his object in taking it away was to raise money on it as he had done on sundry of his other goods, or whether, as he himself asserted, he was anxious to have as a companion during his voyage, an old and valued bedfellow, and a reminiscence of the days and scenes of his childhood, " before hecouhlrememberanything."

Of the infancy of a hero from the epoch when he " begins to notice," until he is breeched, it is difficult to say much. According to the laudable custom of our ancestors Frank was no doubt dosed with Dalby 's Carminative, soaked in Mrs. Johnson's Soothing Syrup, gorged with Godfrey's Cordial, and crammed with the nearest chemist's calomel. Up to the age of seven he was of course in a great measure under the management of his mother, and a most excel lent mother she was. A fond and loving wife, a kind and indulgent parent, and an amiable and exemplary lady in all respects. Her religious tendencies were of the most devout and strict nature, and her whole knowledge was derived from the Bible, and from serious works, beyond which her reading did not extend. She looked upon theatres and balls as snares of the arch fiend to entrap souls to perdition, and thought " Bogatzky's Golden Treasury," the lightest kind of literature that can be allowed to a professing and truly pious Christian.

She has left this wicked world, and is now reaping the fruit of a well-spent and blameless life, and enjoying, I trust, in heaven, that happiness which her sense of what was right never permitted her to ex perience on earth. Under this lady's tuition, Frank received the first rudiments of his education. He had Dr. Cumming's pleasing and charitable views instilled into him, and on the authority of a whole host of low Church divines was assured of his own utter worthlessness, and of the impossibility of salvation. He was told that he who is guilty of breaking the least of the commandments is guilty of them all, and with his poor little unformed reason to aid him, and the works of Stowell, McNeil, and Co. to back him in his self-deception, he firmly believed that because he once in his life feigned illness to escape going to church, and hearing a sermon which he could not understand, he was guilty of breaking the fourth commandment, and of course, according to the doctrine above propoun ded, was also amenable to the law against wor shipping graven images, swearing, and murder, to say nothing of the heinous offence of coveting his neighbour's wife.

As soon as he attained the mature age of seven, his father took him in hand, and being an excellent classic, he deter mined that his son should equal, if not surpass, himself, and he was straightway set to master the abstruse learning of the Eton Latin Grammar. We may take it, that the period of our hero's infancy was now at an end.

Chapter II. Of The Childhood Of Our Hero

I do not know whether or not living in the midst of beautiful scenery has the influence which it is generally supposed to have upon the dwellers in a country favoured by nature with hills, dales, and rivers. No doubt the inhabi tants of flat districts partake in their characters of the dulness and stupidity of the surface of the earth, or that portion of it on which they themselves are resident. And yet I am by no means sure that the converse is the case. Switzerland is (as all admit) a picturesque and charming territory. But I confess I see but little in the denizens of that land to lead me to suppose that the beauties sur rounding them are reflected in their minds, or influence their status, mental or bodily, in any perceptible degree. However that may be, one thing is clear, namely, that the education of Frank Marland after he became his father's pupil was in no ordinary measure influenced by the fact that Abbotsfield was as pretty a village, and the scenery in the neighbourhood as romantic as the most hard-to-please searcher after the beautiful could wish to find.

But the influence which I refer to was perhaps somewhat remote, and it may require a page or two of explanation to convey to my readers an idea of the manner in which it was brought to bear upon his youthful mind. Apart from and besides the old Rectory House, which has been described in the previous chapter, one of the great attractions in a picturesque point of view of our hero's birthplace, was the Church, which occupied the site of an old monastery, and was itself a noble specimen of the perpendicular style of architecture. 1 confess that I am no great admirer of that style, but if ever there was an exception to a general rule the church in question formed that exception. Abbotsfield Church was the centre of a circle about six miles in diameter, comprising within its periphery, almost all the beauty of scenery to be found in Bulfordshire.

It was separated from the Rectory House by an old fish stew of fabulous depth, one of a series of four, originally attached to the monastery, and access w-as had from that house to the church over a species of dam or causeway, intervening between the " Church pool " and the " Hall pool," as the one immediately above was designated. At each angle of the churchyard was a magnificent yew tree, from which tradition averred many a stout bow had been cut. At the back of this noble ecclesiastical edifice, sur rounded by gigantic lime trees, was what had once been a pleasure ground, or plaisaunce, attached to Abbotsfield HaU, the remains of which, glorious with massive old beams of oak and relics of Cyclopean architecture, occupied one corner of what to this day is called " The Tilting Ground." Here were huge mounds of earth pyramidically shaped, on which it was said the heralds used to stand.

Here, too, were pits with tiers of seats cut in the mossy turf for the spectators of the single stick players and wrestlers, who in days of yore delighted the visitors of the bold Barons of Abbotsfield with feats of strength and dexterity. Artificial excavations filled with water on which sham sea fights formerly were enacted, courses for horse and foot races, flat spaces for the quintain and other games of our ancestors, terraces of earth, quaint yew trees, luxuriant ivy, and curi ously cut hedges, the whole forming a singularly attractive assemblage of remains of a past generation, encircled by a lofty wall of moss covered stone, as perfect and as well defined as when some four hundred years ago it was first built. Probably a more interesting spot exists not within Her Majesty's dominions, or one to spoil which modern inventions and so called improvements have done less.

In the old hall before alluded to was a natural curiosity in the shape of a swarm, or rather many swarms of bees, who had taken up their residence under the boards of a room on the first floor, and had there remained constructing combs of wax and filling the cells with honey from time immemorial. Once these poor bees were smoked out for the sake of the sweet treasures which they had collected, and truly some hundred weights of honey were obtained by the occupier of the hall, but it was said, and firmly believed by the whole parish, that in the ensuing spring all the bees in the county assembled and stung to death every cow which the author of this massacre possessed. Having performed this act of retributive justice they took up their abode in the old spot, to which access was obtained through defects in the outer coating of the wall of the house, and there they remained, and for aught I know, still remain undisturbed and unharmed.

The penalty was too heavy to be incurred a second time by the tenant of the Hall farm. On an elevation overlooking the four old fish ponds, was an oc tagonal building called " The Pigeon House," and supposed to have been used in former times for the purpose which its name denotes. It formed a crowning object amidst the beautiful scenery of wood and water which surrounded it A fine avenue of enormous sycamore trees led to what was called Abbotsfield Court, a mansion curiously built round a square — to use an Irish phrase — and fitted up by some of the descendants of the old Barons to whom I have alluded, with furniture of the Louis Quatorze style. To end a description already far too lengthy, the beauties of this pretty place consisted of wood, water, old ruins, quaint buildings, and rustic cottages ex tending for some miles in every direction from the church.

On one side rose up as a back ground, a range of lofty hills covered with heather, and abounding in actual fact with grouse, moor fowl, and other game, and, according to the belief of many, with wonderful and unknown birds and beasts. Indeed, almost in every direction around Abbotsfield might be descried hills, some near, some far off, forming an effective frame to as glorious a picture as ever was painted by that great artist, Nature. Now the owner of the whole parish of Abbotsfield was Lord H , an absentee landlord, and one who gave little attention to his property. So long as his rents were regularly paid to his steward and remitted to himself, he cared little for the welfare of a tenantry, not one individual of which he had ever seen. The Rector followed the example of his noble relative, and was contented to draw his £800 a year by way of tithes, and to pay Frank's father the eighth part of that sum to do the whole of his duty.

Thus it happened, that in the absence of the landlord and the rector, the duty of representing these worthies fell upon Mr. Marland, and to him the inhabitants of Abbotsfield looked for support, aid, advice, and charity. He had, almost without assistance, to feed the hungry, doctor the sick, clothe the naked, and educate the rising generation, and his family was, as a matter of course, forced to undergo the usual deprivations and sufferings attendant upon such a state of things. Nor was this all. The Rectory being the only inhabited gentleman's house in the parish, all the county families were wont to drive their friends over to lunch with Mr. Marland, who was never wearied of pointing out the beauties of Abbotsfield to his aristocratic acquaintances. The church and its immediate neighbourhood was one of the lions of Bulfordshire, and who so well able as the talented curate to explain the monuments, and translate the Latin inscriptions on the tombs in the chancel of that sacred edifice ?

Lunches to people of the class which holds that rent is the best pledge of orthodoxy, and acres the only source of patriotism, are not provided without D money, and when, to this source of expense is added the cost of dinners, and visiting amongst those who had as much a day as he had a year ; model schools, the choir, the organ, charity, and the customary penalties of seeming a rector, and being a curate, one can but feel thankful that Mr. Marland possessed some private fortune, and that he did not exceed his income by more than a few hundreds a year. Charity begins at home. Does it ? Does it not rather begin where it is in a position to be remarked by our neighbours ? However, so it was, that in order to cut a figure abroad, the strictest economy had to be practised at home in Mr. Marland's family, and Frank was urged to learn the value of money, and how to do without it from his earliest age.

This was the effect of the exquisite scenery of his native place. If the beauties of Abbotsfield had never existed, Frank's father would not have had to keep open house to all comers, and Frank him self would have no doubt been treated more liberally, and educated differently, if not more perfectly than in actual fact he was. Whether or not Mr. Marland would, under circumstances which rendered him less popular, have been a happier man, I do not presume to determine. Having taken his son's education in hand, he devoted his mornings to the development of Master Frank's intellect, and from the age of seven to that of twelve, he by hook or by crook, by birch and stick, when milder methods failed, succeeded in driving into his little brain a most inordinate quantity of knowledge. Whilst, how ever, his mind was mainly attended to, his bodily vigour was by no means neglected.

He was taught to swim, to shoot, to ride, at first a donkey, then a pony, and eventually he arrived at the dignity of a horse. In short he became a " dab " at all athletic exercises. At the age of twelve he found himself crammed with clas sical knowledge sufficient to enable him to cope with boys much older than himself; and having a strong, well-developed body, he was in a position to make his way in a physical point of view, amongst the lads whom he was destined to meet at Nunnerley School, to which at this period of his life, it was the intention of Mr. Marland to send him. The town of Nunnerley was situated at the d distance of five miles from Abbotsfield. It boasted of a famous old school. One of those institutions founded by King Edward the Sixth, at which education was to be had for nothing.

Hither, about the year 1831, our hero proceeded, and as the hours of attendance commenced at seven a.m., all the year round, it was impossible that Frank should live at home, and go daily backwards and forwards to his studies, as many of the boys did. So it was settled that he should become an inmate of the Head Master's house. I will here bring to a close my account of Frank Marland's childhood, and the days thereof.