In the Choir of Westminster Abbey: a story of Henry Purcell's days ... With illustrations by T. H. Crawford

Front matter

Henry Pukcell. From the picture by Sir Godfrey Knellcr. By permission of Mr. Al/red Littleton. IN THE CHOIR OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY A STORY OF HENRY PUR CELL'S DJYS KV EMMA MARSHALL Author of *■ Vntitr Salisbury Spirt;' * KcnsUig(on P,i!,ii\,' ' The Maittr of the A'Ti/sicijnt.' Eii. With I/tustntrions by T. HAMILTON CRAWFORD, R.S.W. LONDON SEF.LEV AND CO. LIMITED 3S Great Russell simki 1S97 TO THE REV. JOHN TROUTBECK, D.D. precentor of westminster chaplain-in-ordinary to the queen In Memory of Old Friendship I AM indebted to the Life of Purcell by Mr Cummings for many of the incidents related in connection with him in this story. Mr Gosse's Life of Congreve has also been con sulted, with such contemporary history of the Re volution of 1688 and accession of William and Mary as bore upon the musical compositions of the great organist of Westminster Abbey.

Woodside, Leigh Woods, Clifton, September 1897. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE PORTRAIT OF HENRY PURCELL, AFTER KNF.LLER, (Frontispiece) WEST FRONT OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 30 NORTH TRANSEPT OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY, . . . . 5S CORONATION OF JAMES II., 76 WESTMINSTER HALL AND ABBEY, 160 CHOIR OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY, . . . . . 226 OLD PALACE YARD, . 266 WESTMINSTER ABBEY FROM DEAN'S YARD, ....

Book I

Be useful where thou livest, that they may Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still. Kindness, good parts, great places are the way To compass this. Find out men's wants and will, And meet them there. George Herbert. A Westminster Abbey

Chapter I

A. D. 1684 As I look back on my past life, I may say it has been uneventful, yet it has fallen to my lot to see and hear much regarding those whose names are famous. So, mayhap, the record, which is a pleasing occupation to write, will be of interest to my descendants when I have passed hence. There comes to most of us a time of awakening from the dreams of childhood, a time when the shadows and bright visions of youth change into realities — times when we are brought face to face with the conviction that our pathway is not always flower-strewn, but there are thorns and brambles to encounter, and rough places to pass over, which cannot be avoided. Such an awakening came to me on a spring day in the year of grace 1684. The harsh voice of my stepmother called me from the poultry yard, where I was feeding the pigeons, and sing ing to myself as I scattered the grain for the pretty creatures, who came down from the dove cot, preening their feathers and strutting hither and thither as they pecked and cooed at my feet, for they knew me, and counted me as a friend. ' Betty ! ' — the call was repeated — ' come this instant ; you are wanted — Betty ! ' I had a per verse desire never to hurry when my stepmother called me in threatening tones.

So I walked leisurely enow to the gate of the yard, and saw my stepmother standing at the back door of our low-roofed house, repeating, ' Betty, you tiresome hussy ! go and smooth your tangled hair, and put on a clean cap, for a gentleman wants to see you. You are not well favoured, I can tell you, and had need make the best of yourself. You are no beauty, and a sad slattern.' I had heard this many a time, and was not greatly moved by it. I lived my own life apart from my stepmother and her children. Certain it is I gave her no cause to love me, and was, I well believe, far from trying to win her favour. ABBEY 5 How it was my poor father married a shrew, who brought four children by her first husband, as well as an orphan nephew of his — by name Edmund Pel ham — I cannot tell. It is ever a mystery why sharp-tongued women manage to get husbands over whom they ride rough-shod, while many a gentle one is left un wooed and unwed.

It would seem that vixens win in the long run, and get men to marry them by hook or by crook. Witness my stepmother, who had had two husbands, and was ready for a third — if he presented himself. I went up to my garret in the roof and did my stepmother's bidding. I had, as she said, tangled hair, but I thrust it back under the best cap which I wore on Sundays, tied with cherry-coloured riband, and let down my skirt, which was pulled through the pocket holes to keep it out of the way when about my work in the poultry-yard and dairy, and tied on a clean apron with a bib to hide blemishes, and so went to the parlour. ' Oh ! is this the girl, Mistress Lockwood ? And you want to get rid of her — eh?' ' Make your curtsey, Betty. This is his reverence, Master William Gostling, who is so conde scending as to wish to see you.' I felt a pair of keen eyes were looking at me from head to soot.

Then Mr Gostling said with a kindly smile, — ' Stepmother and you don't agree, and you won't break your hearts if you part company?' 'I'll answer for myself,' my stepmother said, 'and I shall be thankful if Betty is a good girl and earns her bread. I have much ado to live, with four of my own children to feed and clothe ; and a strapping lass like Betty should better herself if the chance comes in her way. She is mostly in a dream here, and full of vagaries.' ' That won't answer for the place I have in view for her. No dreaming and no vagaries, but quick ness and diligence and readiness to serve. But come hither, Betty,' Mr Gostling said, ' and tell me your mind.' I curtseyed and said, — ' First, sir, an it pleases you, I must know yours. A pleasant smile broke over the face, which was bent towards me. ' That's just and proper.

So now I will tell you all I have to tell. I have a dear friend, by name Master Henry Purcell, who lives in Dean's Yard, Westminster. His good wife needs help in the household — not menial service, but help. More over, there is a great deal of copying music to be done, mechanical work, needing neatness and A BBE 1 ' 7 precision. Do you take to this offer? If so, I shall, so I hope, do you and my friend a kindness, and a kindness to one whom I held in high esteem — your dead mother.' 'Oh! sir,' I exclaimed, 'if you knew her' — and then I was choked with tears. ' Yes, yes, I knew her ; a fair, sweet creature, with the voice of an angel, and of gentle birth. You do not resemble her except in the tones of your voice.' And here my stepmother interrupted. ' I've oftentimes heard Betty's father say she favoured him and not her mother ; but she has got her vagaries from her, for the poor thing never knew whether she was on her head or her heels ! ' 'Tut! tut!

Mistress Lockwood,' Mr Gostling said, bristling up, ' methinks it is ill-spoken to dis parage the dead. Whatsoever Frances Lockwood did, she was an angel of goodness.' My stepmother, fearful of offending Mr Gostling, hastened to draw back her words, and declared she knew my mother, and that she was all Mr Gostling said she was. ' Oh ! sir,' I ventured to say, ' I am not wanted here. I pray you let me go to your friends. I will do my utmost, I will indeed.' Even now I can recall the thrill of delight with which I felt the hand of Mr Gostling laid on my shoulder as he said, — 'Well, you shall make a trial of this, at anyrate, and get yourself ready to start by the stage-waggon which passes this way by the Tuesday in next week. I will meet you at the hostel where the stage puts down its passengers, and take you to Dean's Yard.

Do you love music ? ' Now, I had only heard the bassoon and fiddle in our village church, and yet music was in my soul, else how was it the song of the birds, the ripple of the mill stream, the whisper of the wind often moved me to ecstasy. I've lain many a time listening to the sounds around me, and longing, longing to keep ever in the enchanted ground they made for me. Thus, as I sa)-, I had lived my life apart for sixteen years, with but scant knowledge of what was passing around me, weary of the spoiled, unruly children, doing little services, such as skimming the milk in the dairy and feeding the pigeons, in a desultory way. But to Mr Gostling's question, Do you love music? put in the deep bass voice, such as, sure, there never was one deeper, I answered, — 'Yes, sir; I know I do: though I have never heard any except — ' I stopped, it seemed so strange to say I loved what I had never heard. ' Except what, child ?

Speak out.' ' Except the music that is all around me — the music of the birds, and the dripping water, and the wind.' ' There, that will do, that will do. You will soon know what music is when once you have listened to Master Purcell on the organ ; you will hear in it, as he calls it forth, the wind and the waves, and all the hundred voices which are, with due reverence let me say it, as the voice of God to the soul of man.' Mr Gostling and I were left alone in the parlour while my stepmother went to fetch a tankard of spiced canary and some sweet biscuits from the buttery for his refreshment. ' You will not be sorry to leave your home ? Mistress Lockwood told a friend of mine in Canter bur)- that she wished to find you a place in some gentleman's family, for she was put to it for money. This seems strange.' ' Indeed it is strange, sir, for it is all my father's money.

She has none, save what he left her ; and yet she has grudged me my fare, and had it not been for Edmund Pelham, I should never have had a book or learned aught. He has come hither from his college, and he has brought me books and taught me a little Latin, and has bid me take heart, for the longest lane has a turning.' Mr Gostling laughed. ' Yours has been but a short lane, child, and I fear me you have lacked patience, but I look to you to fulfil the duties which fall to you in Master Pur cell's household. No dreaming, you understand — no vagaries — though I scarce know what Mistress Lockwood means by this.' My stepmother returned now with the silver cup and biscuits, followed by Tommy, the youngest of her children, who, unmannerly child as he was, stretched out a greedy hand and half cleared the platter of the cakes.

His mother boxed his ears, but he only grinned and scampered off to the or chard, from which we soon heard cries and quarrels, and I knew it was no doubt because his sister Madge would fain share his prize. I counted the days and hours till Tuesday, and set about my preparations with a will. Strange to say, my stepmother was for once kinder than her wont. She brought out some taffeta and lace which had been my own mother's, and she gave me a small oaken chest to hold my best attire, instead of rolling it up in a package, which travelling on horseback made necessary. The evening before my departure I was surprised to see Edmund Pelham come up the garden path. He found me in the porch. My stepmother had gone into the village with Madge and Tommy, and I was free to sit quiet and try to fancy what my future life would be. ' Hallo, little Bet ! at the old game — moping by yourself.

I am on my way to present myself for a tutor's place at Eastham, and thought I would look in on my way. I came on foot from Cambridge, and I am dead tired.' He threw himself down on the floor of the porch at my feet, and asked, ' How goes the Faerie Queen, and what think you of Shakespeare's sonnets ? ' ' I have got some of them by heart,' I said ; ' but, Edmund, I am going away from home ; you are only just in time. I start by the stage-waggon on the morrow.' ' Going away ! — that's bad news. Has she been more vicious than usual ? ' ' No ; kinder. It is nought to do with her this time, except that she made it known to some gos sips of hers in Canterbury that it was time I earned my bread.' Edmund started up ' Shame ! ' he cried ; ' your father never made his will as he should have done, but he trusted to madam to see you well provided for.

Earn your bread, forsooth ! Why, you should have the best to be had here. Is it all spending on those brats ? ' ' She has to pay Dick and Harry's schooling at Hitchin, and two of the milch cows got a dis temper and died, and oh ! she says she can scarce pay her way. But, Edmund, I am well pleased to go. I am not wanted here, nor loved, nor cared for. It is best for me to go.' ' And, pray, where are you going ? ' ' To Westminster, to live with Mistress Purcell.' ' What ! the wife of the great musician everyone is beginning to talk of? ' ' Yes ; Master Gostling is Master Purcell's friend, and he it is who has furthered the scheme.' ' That sounds a better plan than I had feared. Yet, Betty, it is ill done to turn you out from Ivy Farm — from your home.' - It has not been like home since Madam Lock wood came into it.

If it had not been for you, I should have had no friend here. It is, as I say, quite the best thing that I should go.' ' Well, it may be so, but if you are not happy at Westminster, let me know. I intend to get up in the world, and if I do, you shall rise with me — eh, Betty ? ' WES TMINS TER A BBE Y 13 ' Time enough to think of that,' I said. ' I have taken my degree at Cambridge, and I mean to get to the Bar. Meanwhile, to keep my head above water, I shall get the care of a dunder head to try and drive some Latin and Greek into his head. He is the only son of a pair of doting parents, Sir William and my Lady Audrey VVilmot. I shall enter at the Temple all the same, and eat my dinners and see you when I come to do this, so you won't be quite rid of me, little Bet!' ' As if I wished to be rid of the only friend I have in the wide world ! ' I answered.

I remember now, as if 'twere yesterday, how Edmund looked up into my face as he lay at my feet, and, taking my hand, said, — ' I will not bind you, Betty, with any promise, but I swear that nought shall turn my heart from you, and when I rise, as rise I wilt, if you con sent, you shall share my good fortune.' ' You will find someone else by that time,' I said. ' You will see a fair lady who will be proud to have you for a suitor, and then you will wonder you ever cared for me. I am no beauty — my stepmother is right in that.' ' And I vow she is wrong. Were ever eyes like yours, Bet ? They are like nothing in the world so much as the brown pool by the mill — brown but clear in its cool depths. And then your hair — how it ripples in the sunshine ! ' 'And then my short nose,' I said, laughing, ' which turns upwards, I am afraid ; and my large mouth and my sallow cheeks.' I spoke in jest, for I did not wish Edmund to know how in my secret heart I was thrilled with his words, and that I knew now for the first time that I loved him — him only !

I was only just past my sixteenth birthday, and he was twenty-three. Was it likely he would hold to me, so handsome as he was, so clever, and with talents far above the ordinary young gentleman of the time ? ' It is all very fine for you to jest, Betty. It is no jesting matter to me, child ! Have you not known — have you not seen how, from that day when I found you crying on your father's grave, I have loved you ? ' I cannot tell what answer I might have given, had not Tommy, with a loud whoop, come tearing into the garden, shouting, — ' Here's Ted ! Here's Ted courting Bet ! ' Hold you tongue, you young rascal ! ' Edmund said, and I sprang to my feet to hear my step mother say in no very pleased tones, — ' What brings you here, Edmund ? I thought you were still at Cambridge ? ' ' I am on my way to Eastham, five miles off.

I turned in here to see you, but I'll put up at the hostel in the village, if so it pleases you, Aunt Anne.' ' Nay, Edmund, be not so testy. You are wel come. Your chamber here is always at your ser vice. Come into the parlour. I'll send the children to bed, and then I'll hear your news.' It was to my stepmother's interest to be civil to Edmund Pelham. He had a small fortune in herited from his mother, and I had reason to know, in later times, that he had often given a dole of money to his aunt, who was in good sooth, only his aunt by marriage, her first husband's sister having married his father, who had made some money as a jeweller and goldsmith in the city. The last of all familiar things is ever painful. Thus I felt sorrowful when I thought I should never sleep again in the little garret where I had passed many a solitary hour.

The old pear tree, which covered the wall of the house under my lattice, was putting forth its rounded white blossoms, one branch lying across the lower pane of my window. I leaned out to breathe the fresh, crisp air of the spring night, and looked up at the starlit sky, questioning, as I had often done before, what lay in those depths, concealed by the glare of the sun, and revealed when darkness crept over the face of the earth. It was but natural that, in the stillness of the night, I should rehearse the words of love Edmund had spoken — natural that it was sweet to me to think there was one who loved me best. ' Not bound,' he said. ' Not bound by any promise.' That cut two ways. If I was not bound, neither was he, and I felt it was but likely he would soon forget me. Yet I would fain believe he would remember, and for myself — ah ! for myself — there could never be a doubt.

Having learned that I loved Edmund Pelham, I could not forget the lesson henceforth, so I thought ! My farewells were soon spoken the next morning. My stepmother did not show any regret at my departure. It was a relief to her, and she did not hide it. Madge and Tommy made me promise I would bring plenty of hardbake and ginger nuts when I came back from London, and Giles and Rhoda — the man and his wife who helped on the farm and in the house — seemed more sorry to lose me than I could have expected, Rhoda throwing her apron over her head as she turned away from the door to hide her tears, while Giles shouldered my box and I carried the package which held my extra aprons and little matters that did not fit into the chest. When we got to the hostel to wait for the stage, I found Edmund Pelham there.

I had not seen him that morning, and thought he had gone early to Eastham I affected a lightsome mood, which hid my real feelings, and I did my best to jest and laugh, while I would sooner have cried and sobbed. However, there was not time for many words, for the stage came rumbling up, and I was soon stowed away inside the stage with four other passengers, who had many bundles and packages, so that we were near suffocated for air. I called to Edmund that I would sooner ride on the roof, but he shook his head, — ' No,' he said, coming close to the narrow window. ' No, you had best stay where you are. There are no women on the roof.' He held my hand till the last moment. Then the horn blew, there was a scraping of the horses' feet, and we jogged off. My fellow travellers were too much occupied with their own concerns to take heed of me, and I soon fell into a dose and slept for the greater part of the journey — awoke once by the coach getting into a rut and being nearly overturned, and got out with much hallooing and noise ; and again, later in the day, by a scare as to gentlemen of the road.

They stopped the stage, but finding no likelihood of booty, went off for richer prey. In the dim, fast-fading light of the spring evening, dazed and weary, I found myself in the courtyard of the inn where the stage stopped, and a deep bass voice cried out, — ' Is a young gentlewoman here named Lockwood ? Ha ! ' Mr Gostling said, ' here you are. I over looked you in the crowd. Now, then, we will get your baggage carried by a hand porter, and I will take care of you to Westminster. Tired, eh ? ' ' Yes, sir,' I said, ' and cramped in my feet.' ' Poor little one ! I will get you a cup of wine ere we set out on foot to Westminster.' So we turned into the parlour of the hostel, where Mr Gostling ordered a cup of wine and a platter of cakes, bidding me eat and drink and refresh myself. This was only one of the many acts of kindness I received at the hands of Mr Gostling.

There were several people in the parlour, and I heard Mr Gost ling say,— ' Ay, it was a wondrous escape. I only marvel I am alive to tell the tale.' ' His Majesty was in peril also,' one of the ques tioners said. ' In peril ! I tell you it was the narrowest escape king or subject ever had.' ' A warning, methinks, a warning ; but, 'twixt you and me, sir, if the lady who gave the yacht her name of Fubbs were at the bottom of the sea, it would be the ill wind which blew good to the country.' ' Hush ! hush ! man ; you forget you are speaking before a favourite of His Majesty's, whose bass voice has brought him not only favour but guineas.' ' In a silver egg — is not that so, Master Gostling ? ' ' You are full of questions,' Mr Gostling said. ' I am not bound to answer them. Come, child, we must be off, or we shall need to hire a link-boy, the evening is closing in.' I heard all that passed, but 1 could not under stand aught of it. ' Fubbs.' What a queer, ugly name, I thought.

Is anyone called in sober earnest Fubbs ? But remembering that Mr Gostling had not been pleased at being questioned by the men in the parlour of the hostel, I forbore to do so. I trudged along by his side, while he hummed airs in his deep, yet musical voice, and as I passed through the streets and saw what seemed to me unnumbered houses, I began to realise that I was 2o IN THE CHOIR OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY alone in the great city, and my heart turned to him who had spoken words of love to me the evening before. Why had I jested and laughed when we parted, while Edmund's face showed signs of strong emo tion ? What would I not have given now for the clasp of his hand — for the sound of his voice ? With these thoughts I stumbled along. My feet, all unaccustomed to the paving stones of a town, ached with soreness and weariness.

And my guide, just in advance, walked on, having hired a link boy to precede him, the lurid light of his torch scarcely needed in the twilight, which was deepen ing every moment. At last we came to an open space, and Mr Gostling, turning, said, — ' That is the Abbey before you.' The Abbey ! And almost as he spoke the clock chimed for seven ; and above the murmur of the city, the call of the link-boys, the footfalls of passers-by, the bells were like a voice from the dark-blue sky above, against which were the massive walls of Westminster Abbey. It looked so stupendous to me, so vast, so mys terious, I stood looking up at its dim, dark outline till Mr Gostling said, — 'You'll have time enow to gaze at the Abbey, child, for you will live under its shadow.'

Chapter II

A. D. 1684 We now turned into a square under an archway, and Mr Gostling stopped before the door of a small house, on which he gave a thundering rap with the head of his stick. Dismissing the link - boy with the money he asked for, Mr Gostling, always im patient of delay, knocked again. Then bolts and bars were withdrawn, and a clear voice, many degrees higher in pitch than Mr Gost ling's, said, — ' Who could it be bringing the house about our ears but the Reverend Will Gostling.' ' I've brought the little maiden, as agreed,' Mr Gostling said. ' Step in, child, and show yourself to the chiefest musician in England.' ' So saith the biggest bass voice in England or the world,' Mr Purcell replied, with a laugh. 'Come in, come in, and I will call the mistress. You must need your supper,' Mr Purcell said kindly, ' after your journey.' I wanted nothing so much as bed, where I might hide the tears which I had much ado to keep back.

But now I found myself in a parlour, lighted not only by the lamp hanging from the oak beam that crossed the roof, but by two large candles standing on a desk covered with papers. In another corner of the parlour, in a recess, was a table with a basket of needlework, and before it Mrs Purcell was seated. ' Here, then, Fan, is the little handmaiden you have desired to ease your burdens, and you must needs give her a welcome.' Mrs Purcell looked at me with a pair of bright, searching eyes, and said, — 'She is very small, Henry. What is her age?' Then, untying my hood, my hair fell down over my figure. ' Well, she has a growth of hair, in good sooth. We must cut off some of these heavy locks, child.' ' May it please you, madam,' I said, ' I am not a child. I am sixteen years old, and — and — ' My voice was trembling, and, afraid I would burst out crying, I stopped short.

A BBE Y 23 ' Sixteen ! Who could have thought it ? ' Mr Purcell said; 'but hasten to get us supper, dear wife, and then you shall put the little maid to bed. She has had a long and tiresome journey.' Mrs Purcell went to do her husband's bidding, and I was left in the parlour with Mr Gostling. Mr Purcell went across the passage to another room, whence came the sound of a harpsichord and viola. ' Music, music, concord of sweet sounds ! it is the air you will breathe in this house,' Mr Gostling said, and then he seated himself at a harpsichord and began to sing, from a sheet of music which lay on the desk, the words, ' They that go down to the sea in ships.' The sound of his voice hushed the music in the other parlour, and Mr Purcell came back with a young man. ' I have only wrote those first bars ; before I pro ceed further, my good friend, you must relate the story once more.

You gave me but the outline t'other day. Let us have it before supper. It will pass the time, for my good wife is somewhat tardy in her cooking, and needs help, for she has never been strong for work since the birth and death of our little son.' They seemed to forget my presence. Now, after long, long years, I can recall myself as I sat on the high chair where Mrs Purcell had placed me, my feet scarce touching the ground, my tangled locks falling over my figure, the desolation of my heart unsuspected and uncared for. Yet soon, as I listened to Mr Gostling's story, I forgot my lone liness and forgot myself in the intense earnestness with which the tale of deliverance was told, with scarce repressed emotion. Mr Gostling had what is well called dramatic power of description. He brought before us the whole scene of danger and deliverance, so that his listeners might be said to live it with him over again.